Page 5 of Draped in Plaid
Chapter Two
Rory
“Bloody hell…”
I slammed down the quill on my desk shuddering the wood and causing the candle on the corner to flicker from the sudden force. I wasna going to get a bloody thing done.
Every time I looked down at the logbook, or tried to cipher the missives coming in from various allies, I pictured Tomas hunched over my desk, scribbling, interpreting, and ruling in my place. Immeasurable guilt burned within me.
I pictured him having to deal with Ranulf’s disobedience and eventual betrayal. I should never have asked it of him.
When I asked if he was up to the task, and I’d seen the hesitation in his eyes, I’d pushed it on him anyway. Because I had to get to the Guardian. Because Scotland called me first. Duty to King, Country, Guardian. Then came my wife and clan. An order I wished I didna have to follow.
Now… Tomas’ death, and so many others were on my hands. Their blood, a stain to my soul that could never be washed clean. The causalities from Ranulf’s attack, the destruction… All of it was on me.
Even as the weighty responsibility settled on my shoulders, I wasna sure what else I could have done, besides have my son executed or locked in the dungeon. Two mean punishments I’d resisted, keeping faith that Ranulf would soon see the error of his thinking.
A bet I shouldna have taken.
Shoulda. Woulda. Coulda. Countless regrets, but it did no use for me to list them off. What’s done was done. Now was the time to clean up the fool’s mess.
I closed the ledger and stood up, stretching out the kinks from having hovered overlong at the desk. I shouldna have tried to do this yet. But after seeing to the destruction, praying for the dead and making sure the reinforcements were taken care of, I’d needed a moment to compose myself. The ledgers had given me a measure of solace before we left Dunleod. A way to unwind after a long day. But the repetitiveness of it did nothing for me now.
I was glad Moira had not come back down after leaving me to wallow. I’d have been sore company to keep. Poor lass. She’d been such a huge supporter of mine since the moment we met, in this time and the future. I couldna live without her. And Fate had seen to it that I didna have to.
I needed her. Needed her love. Needed her to attend my poor soul. There was many a night I laid my head at her breast just to listen to the steady, strong drum of her heart. A beat that seemed to say in itself that life was worth living.
Eagerly, I left my study, climbing the circular stair to our bedchamber. The sun had set, but I could see a small bit of light beneath the door. A cozy hearth fire, a quiet, intimate dinner, our large four-poster bed…
I sought the warmth of her arms.
I lifted the handle, pushed, but the door didna budge.
“Moira?” I called.
There was no answer, but a deafening silence. Why was the door barred?
I jiggled the handle again, thinking perhaps it had only jammed. But still, it would not open. This was not like my wife. For certes, she’d fallen asleep in the tub afore now, but never with the door barred.
“Moira,” I called again, more urgent this time.
Still no answer.
Ballocks!My heart slammed against my ribs, instinct warning something was not right.
Not wasting another minute, I slammed my shoulder against the door, calling out to her again and again. My shouts brought servants and guards rushing toward me. I put my heel to the handle of the door and kicked with all my might, splintering the wood planks, but the bar held steady.
Between the cracks, I could make out nothing. The tub was vacant. As was the bed, the chairs. The room was empty.
Every hair on my body stood on end. The implications of an empty, barred chamber were too much for me to acknowledge. I kicked and kicked until the entry door splintered apart, revealing what I’d seen between the cracks—emptiness.
My blood ran cold.
Moira’s scent lingered in the air. Not too long ago either, she’d been here.
I rushed to the window, looking down, dreading what I might find at the bottom of the wall, but there was nothing but dirt and a wagon overturned.
Moira was not here. Neither was she outside the window.
