Page 103 of Highland Renegade
Not that things hadn’t gone according to plan, but a tiny bit of superstition—or maybe it was experience—hovered and niggled at her. Generally, whenever her life seemed to be moving along like it should, something invariably happened to make her plans run amok. So far today, nothing had. Hamish had delivered the message as they were breaking their fast, Ian had acted like it were a true emergency and left immediately. Carr had announced that he would be working on the accounting books much of the day, making it clear he would be around, while Rory had mentioned a few of the horses needed shoeing and he would be overseeing the farrier when he arrived. She and Fiona had spent the day with a half dozen maids going room-to-room to discuss what needed airing and cleaning.
And now, night had fallen. Carr and Devon had concluded their discussion with their uncles, and both Ian and Rory waited in the room with her. She couldn’t see them, since the candle had been extinguished and the brazier coals banked, but she could hear steady breathing. Her own was shaky.
It seemed she lay there for hours—the bit of moonlight that had shone through the window had shifted position—when finally she heard a sound. It was hardly discernible…a softclick, but her ears were attuned to the silence like a fox awaiting a hare at a ground hole. Only she were the hare.
Although Ian and Rory were still quiet, she could sense the tension in the air.
There was a slight creaking sound and slowly, the wardrobe door opened. Through her half-closed eyes, she could see a figure emerge. The moonlight glinted off the knife in his hand, and it was all Emily could do not to scream. Her nightmares had been real…
And then, all hell broke loose. Broderick was halfway to the bed when Ian tackled him. The man fell against the bedpost and managed to scramble out of his grasp and crawl onto the mattress. Rory grabbled for the knife as Emily scooted up against the headboard, wrapping her arms tightly around her knees as Broderick tried to slash her. The door to her bedchamber flew open and Carr and Devon burst in with their own weapons. There was a great deal of cursing from all of them as bodies thumped and collided, Ian practically lifting his uncle off the bed to throw him on the floor. There was a sickening crack and then silence, save for the heavy breathing. Then hands reached for her and Emily managed to stifle a scream when she realized they belonged to Ian.
“Hush.” He smoothed her hair and pulled her close. “Hush. ’Tis all right now.”
She clung to him as someone managed to light the oil lamp hanging by the door. “Is…is he dead?”
“Nae. Just knocked out,” Rory said.
Broderick moaned and began to stir as Carr finished tying his hands with the rope he’d brought. “Let me go, ye fools!”
“Think again who the fool is,” Devon growled at him as another figure appeared in the doorway.
“What is going on here?” Donovan asked, his eyes widening as he saw his brother on the floor and then his hands went up as Carr and Rory advanced on him. “Whatever Broderick was up to, I had nae part!”
“Our uncle just tried to murder Emily,” Ian said.
“What?”
“And he murdered Isobel, too,” Devon added.
Donovan looked at each of them and then down at his brother. “Is this true?”
“The whore cheated on me,” Broderick spat out. “I loved the bitch and she cheated on me!”
An odd expression crossed Ian’s face and then cleared. “So ye meant yerself when ye said Isobel cheated on the man who loved her.” It was a rhetorical question and he got only a defiant look for an answer.
“But why try to murder Lady Woodhaven?” Carr asked.
“Because she is English.” This time he did spit. “And she wanted the distillery. It was supposed to be mine.Mine. Donovan was going to sell me his portion when he retired. I had plans—”
“Nobody interrupted yer plans,” Ian said. “Emily gave ye only an opportunity to make more profit.”
“The damn English do nae keep their promises,” he said defiantly. “Ye ken what the English have done to MacGregors for nigh two centuries! Ye are going to trust the damn bit—”
His words were cut off by Ian’s fist. “One more word against Emily and there will be murder done here this night.Yers.”
Broderick gave him a belligerent look but kept still. Donovan took a step closer to him. “Ye meant to kill Lady Woodhaven? I will hear it from ye.”
Rory held up the knife. “He had this in his hand when he emerged from the passageway.”
Donovan glanced at it, then back to his brother. “I will hear it from ye.”
“Aye.”
“Were ye also responsible for the whisky put in her tea and the hemlock in her wine?” Devon asked. When Broderick didn’t answer, he crouched down and grabbed him. “I was blamed for both those things. My own brother doubted me. I will have the truth from ye as well.”
“Aye,” Broderick finally said. “I took the foreshots from the whisky so it wouldna smell.”
“What are those?” Emily asked.
