Page 85 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
“I came with Alistair.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and her eyes darted toward the gates as though she expected someone to appear and drag her away. “He made me come. He said it was time. He said that we couldnae stay away any longer, that the clan would talk, that we needed to mend the rift between us before it was too late.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened. “Where is me wife?”
Marion flinched at the hardness in his voice, but she did not step back. She reached for his arm, her fingers curling around his sleeve, and he felt her trembling through the fabric.
“They havenae left the territory.” The words came out in a rush, as though she had been holding them inside for too long and could no longer contain them. “They are still here. In the old dungeons. The abandoned fort is beyond the eastern woods. Do ye remember it, Rowan? Ye used to play there when ye were small. Ye and Gordon, before?—”
“Marion.” Rowan caught her by the shoulders and held her still. “How do ye ken this? How do ye ken where they are?”
Her face crumpled, and her tears fell faster. “Because Alistair took them. He took the woman and the child, and he hid them in the abandoned fort beyond the eastern woods. He told me that if I spoke a word to anyone, he would kill me. He said he would make it look like an accident, and nay one would ever ken.”
Alistair.
His uncle. His father’s brother. The man who had written to him years ago with the news that Gordon was dead, who had stayed away from MacLaren lands while Rowan buried his parents, his sister, and his first wife.
“Why?” Rowan’s voice was cold, colder than he had intended, but he could not feel anything except the rage building in his chest. “Why would he do this? What does he want?”
Marion shook her head, gripping his arms tightly as though she needed him to hold her upright.
“He wants the castle. He has always wanted the castle. When the plague swept through it and everyone was dyin’, he thought he would inherit it. He was the braither of the Laird, and ye were just a boy. He thought ye would die too, but ye didnae. Ye came back from battle and assumed the lairdship, and he couldnae bear it.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened. He wanted to ask more, wanted to demand answers, wanted to understand how his own uncle could have turned against him so completely. But there was no time. Every moment he spent asking questions was a moment Sorcha and Elspeth spent in danger.
Ewan appeared at his side, his sandy hair plastered to his forehead and his expression grim. “Rowan, we need to move. If Alistair has them, every moment we wait?—”
“I ken.” Rowan straightened and turned to look at his friend. “Ewan, take me aunt to her chambers. Post guards at her door. She isnae to leave, and nay one is to speak to her without me permission.”
Marion’s face crumpled. “Rowan, please?—”
“I will deal with ye when I return.” His voice was steely, leaving no room for argument. “If me wife and me daughter are alive, we will speak. If they arenae…”
He did not finish the sentence. He did not need to.
Ewan took Marion’s arm and led her away, and Rowan watched them go for only a moment before he turned to mount his horse.
But before he could swing himself up into the saddle, Ewan was back at his side. He had thrust Marion into the arms of a nearby guard to hurry back across the yard, clapping a heavy hand on Rowan’s arm.
“Rowan, wait.” Ewan’s voice was low, meant only for his ears. “I need to ask ye somethin’.”
“There is nay time.”
“There is always time to think before ye ride into danger.” Ewan’s grip tightened. “Why would Alistair take them? What is his endgame? He must ken that we will come for them. He must ken that ye willnae rest until they are found. So why would he risk everythin’ to take them in the first place?”
Rowan went still.
Why would Alistair take them? What does he hope to gain?
He thought about his uncle, about the bitterness that had festered in him for years, about the envy that had turned into something darker. Alistair had always wanted the castle. Had always wanted the power that came with being Laird. But taking Sorcha and Elspeth would not give him any of that. It would only bring Rowan’s wrath down upon him.
Unless…
“Unless he doesnae plan to survive,” Rowan said slowly, the words coming to him as though from a great distance. “Unless he plans to take them with him.”
Ewan’s face went pale. “Ye think he means to kill them?”
“I think he means to hurt me.” Rowan’s expression was grim. “I think he has been waitin’ for this moment for years, and he doesnae care what it costs him. He wants to watch me suffer. He wants to watch me lose everythin’, the way he thinks he lost everythin’.”
“Then we need to move faster.”
