Page 54 of Highlander's Rebellious Affair
“If Lyall finds a way to spoil our plan–”
“He wouldnae because this time we are one step ahead of him, and we have all the proof we can get. We also have the support of the goldsmith.”
Rhea rushed into the Castle then, and Ian noticed the panicked look on her face. “What is the matter?” he asked, and Rhea swallowed.
“The goldsmith is–”
“Oh, no, is he dead?” Hope asked, cutting her short, and Ian waited for his sister’s reply.
“Nay, he is nay dead, but I dinnae ken where he is.”
Ian’s confused gaze did not leave her face, and she added, “I went to the cottage to get him and bring him here, and I found his daughter cryin’ in the front yard. She said she woke up this mornin’ and he was gone.”
Ian clenched his fist, and turned away from them. He wanted to scream out his frustration, and march into the hall where Lyall was celebrating, and challenge him, but he had to remain calm and clear headed if he was going to have a shot at ending this.
Hope’s worried gaze was on his face when he turned back to face them. “What do we do now? If the goldsmith is dead then there is nay way he will be testifyin’ to the truth tonight.”
“I dinnae think he is dead,” Ian replied, choosing to maintain his belief that the man was alive. “We will go into the Hall as planned and act like everythin’ is right. Lyall would be on the watch to see if we falter and he will prey on our weakness once he sees it. If he has the goldsmith then we have to make sure we get him back alive, for Gretchen’s sake.”
Rhea nodded, and Ian sucked in a deep breath, not knowing what to expect in the Grand Hall now. He knew Lyall must have had his spies working while he was out unconscious, and since the goldsmith went missing this morning, he could at least hope the man was still alive, and this was just one of his uncle’s many schemes. But to what end?
“Let’s go to the feast,” he said to Hope and took her hand again. “Rhea please go find Gretchen and make sure she is safe, and the rest of the night will go according to plan,” he said.
“But we don’t have the goldsmith–”
“We have the journal,” he replied. “That is the move Lyall wouldnae see comin’. In the meantime, have the men search the entire Castle for the goldsmith.”
* * *
The loud music performed by the musicians and the act by the dancers did nothing to catch Ian’s attention. His uncle’s cackle filled the hall, and he watched as he drank deeply from a quaich and slapped a servant on her back teasingly.
He saw Lyall glance in Hope’s direction and then whisper something to her father before he signaled the musicians to stop the music. Ian remained on his seat, quiet, and observed. Most of Lyall’s men looked at ease where they sat and dined, and he spotted a few of Laird Drummond’s guards.
The rest of the Lairds at the feast had very little of knowledge of what was really going on, and so they simply enjoyed their meal and the wine poured for them as they watched the dancers.
Lyall stood up, lifted his quaich to make a toast, and his gaze met with Ian’s. “A toast to my life,” he said, a grin on his lips, and the crowd cheered, then quieted down again. “And a toast to my nephew, a brave lad, and a strong opposition to me for many years.”
The cheers dropped, and Ian took the cue, stood from his chair and raised his quaich. He sipped from it first, and then Lyall did the same. The tension in the atmosphere was thick, but Ian waited for Lyall to make the first move.
“I ken what ye did,” Lyall finally said when he had emptied the contents of his quaich. “Arrest him,” he ordered his guards and Ian watched as the men marched toward him. Hope moved on her seat, but he placed his hand on her shoulder, signaling for her to remain still on her seat.
He walked around the table and allowed the men take his arm and drag him to where Lyall stood. They forced him to the ground, and he knelt. Ian saw the satisfied smile on Laird Drummond’s lips, but he said nothing, allowing Lyall to enjoy the moment.
“Ye tried to kill yer Laird,” Lyall accused, and a hushed silence enveloped the entire room. “Yer crime is punishable by death.”
Ian realized his uncle’s scheme was to take him out by taking advantage of the attack on his life, and he smiled. “Ye tried to kill me first, and ye used my best friend to do it.”
Callum stood from where he sat then and stepped forward. Ian gave him a nod of acknowledgement as he stood beside him, and Lyall cocked a brow.
“Ye have no evidence of that accusation.”
“Ye also have no proof that I tried to kill ye,” Ian retorted, and Lyall cackled. Ian stood from his kneeling position, and pushed back the guards who tried to stop him.
“I also have proof of how ye murdered my maither, and then my faither, just so ye could take the Lairdship for yerself.”
Another hushed murmur filled the room, and for the first time he saw his uncle’s fear-stricken expression when he reached into the pocket of his kilt and took out the journal. “Proof written in yer own words,” Ian added, and tossed the journal to Laird Drummond.
Hope’s father was Lyall’s biggest support. His power and influence made it possible for Lyall to connect with the other Lairds, and climb the social ladder.
