It was time for the
ceilidh
. Charlie had spent the last two days on a wildly extravagant hunt with his best friends and his sisters’ husbands, as well as some excellent friends he’d made in the glen. In his tramps through chilly burns and over rocky terrain, he’d released all his nervousness about his plans to win Daisy back and surrendered to the elements.
A dose of the Highlands was what he’d needed … it felt right in his very bones that he was still here in Scotland and working to improve the state of his property and the climate of his adopted village of Glen Dewey.
His heart filled with pride in his new home when he sang along with his hunting companions the well-known verse by Robert Burns:
My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart’s in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer;
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe,
My heart’s in the Highlands, wherever I go.
Every hunter knew he mustn’t force, but lure, his target to him. Tonight, at the
ceilidh,
Charlie told himself, he would open his heart, and he hoped Daisy would accept it.
And then he would make her his.
Now his friends and family were gathering for the great event in the hall at Castle Vandemere, which wasn’t half as vast as the one at the Keep. But Charlie found it much more inviting, perhaps because he’d asked his sisters and his friends’ wives—Poppy, Molly, and Jilly—to decorate the space for him. They’d hung wreaths and stuffed vases with beautiful flowers and made stunning collections of candles that warmed every corner of the room.
But when the party arrived from Rose Cottage, Daisy wasn’t among them.
“Where is she?” he asked Joe and Hester.
His female guests hovered behind him. All of them couldn’t wait to meet Daisy, who they knew was meant to be his bride—if he could convince her of that fact.
“She’s at Mrs. MacLeod’s, getting her hair done,” said Hester, “and och, she looks so beautiful. Wait until ye see her. Her slippers look like they were made for an angel.”
Grandmother smiled. “Mr. Glass says he never sells them to a woman herself. They must be bought
for
her by someone who loves her very much. He asks the buyer to describe this special woman, and he listens with his heart. From there, he makes her a unique design.”
“I’ve got on a pair of Mr. Glass’s slippers myself,” said Cassandra, and pointed her toes. “I’ve never found out who chose them for me. They appeared on my bed the night of the last
ceilidh
.”
All the women from London rushed forward to see them.
“They’re magnificent,” said Poppy. “And so perfect for you.” She flashed a brilliant smile at Cassandra. “I’ll tell Nicholas about them right away.”
“I must have a pair of Glass slippers, too,” exclaimed Molly. “I’ll tell Harry. I wonder what they’ll look like?”
Charlie immediately told his sisters he’d let their husbands know that they must pay a visit to Mr. Glass’s cobbler shop, as well.
Then he leaned over to Cassandra. “Daisy chose them for you,” he told her.
Cassandra drew in her chin. “But we hated each other at that time.”
“I know,” said Charlie. “But she said her papa would approve, and that when she described you to Mr. Glass, she looked at you through your father’s eyes as best she could. So in a way, they’re from him.”
Every woman there got tears in their eyes, Cassandra most of all.
Jilly bit her lip. “They’d be all the rage in London. I’m going to get a pair for my dear friend Otis.”
Cassandra tilted her head. “A man?”
Jilly nodded. “But he’s not just any man. He’ll be able to carry them off. You’ll see. You’ll have to come visit us.”
“Thank you very much for the invitation.” Cassandra smiled. “But I’m a Highland lass now. My heart is here, and here I’ll stay.” Charlie saw her look over at Mr. Beebs, who’d turned out to be not only a very responsible overseer but her hero as well.
When Cassandra disappeared into the crowd, Molly spoke first. “I wonder where Miss Montgomery is?”
“I don’t know,” Charlie said, and tried not to be nervous.
But it was difficult when he had her ring in his pocket—the one she’d given to Mrs. Gordon to pay for all the villagers’ gowns. He’d bought it back. He wanted to propose to her tonight—
If the moment were right.
He had a long way to go before he’d know.
Another half hour went by. The
ceilidh
was well under way, and everyone was having a marvelous time.
Or so it seemed. His friends and family seemed on edge, especially Grandmother.
“She’s awfully late,” Grandmother fretted, which was rare for her.
“I know.” Charlie patted her hand. “I can’t help but worry.”
One by one almost everyone from Rose Cottage came up to him and said they wondered what was taking Daisy so long.
“Mrs. MacLeod must have had to start her hair over again,” said Hester.
“Or perhaps her hem fell,” said Cassandra, “and she’s repairing it.”
But then Mayor MacLeod and his wife arrived—without Daisy.
“Where is she?” Charlie asked them.
Mrs. MacLeod gave a little gasp. “Why, I thought she’d have been here by now. She left a good while ago with her mother and Miss Perdita. They happened to come by the hoose while I was fixing her hair. Said they were going late to the
ceilidh
.”
“Mrs. Montgomery wasn’t even invited to the
ceilidh,
” said Charlie.
Mrs. MacLeod expelled a worried breath. “That’s what Miss Montgomery told us, but then Mrs. Montgomery took off for Castle Vandemere with Miss Perdita by her side. And Miss Montgomery said she couldn’t let them go alone to wreak havoc among your guests, so she asked me to hurry and pin up the last curl, which I did with all haste. And she went running after them.” She took another breath. “Then old Mrs. Buncombe came over and the mayor had to help her retrieve her stubborn cow from the High Street. By the time we’d finished, they’d disappeared among the rocks and scrubby pines up on the mountain.”
“What?” Charlie felt his voice grow cold. “They left the road?”
Mrs. MacLeod put her hand to her mouth. “I suppose they did. All the locals know the shortcuts. It never occurred to me to worry.”
“They’re on the mountain.” Fear ran its cold finger down Charlie’s spine. Something wasn’t right.
“Get all the men outside,” he told the women surrounding him. “Tell them we need to find Daisy. I’m leaving now.”
And he raced outside. He’d have to do this fast. If Mona attempted any sort of escape from Glen Dewey after wreaking havoc, there was no one in the village to stop her on her way out—except old Mrs. Buncombe, who was feeble and half blind.
But knowing Mrs. Montgomery, Charlie thought she was so off kilter she might just want revenge—and to hell with escape.
He would check his and Daisy’s special spot first. The Stone Steps. They were on the way up the mountain, and if Daisy were in any sort of trouble, he hoped she’d try to make her way there.
And then he thought of the bog.
No. She was too wary to go near it. Thank God for the Highland summer nights and their light. She’d know that copse of trees, and she’d steer clear.
He hoped.
Once she’d caught up with her stepmother and stepsister, Daisy quickly gave up trying to convince them not to go to the
ceilidh
. Neither one was listening to her anyway.
“Ouch,” Mona said after a few minutes of bickering with Perdita, and began to hobble.
“We should stick to the road,” Daisy said. “You’re less likely to get injured.”
They’d come to the Stone Steps.
“I’ll sit here for a moment,” said Mona. “And then we’ll be on our way again.” She winced. “I think I twisted my ankle.”
Daisy crouched before her. “Let me see.”
And was suddenly lifted up like a sack of flour and thrown over Perdita’s shoulder so hard, she felt one of her slippers fly off her foot.
“What are you
doing
?” Daisy cried, upside down. The blood immediately began to pound in her head.
“Ssshhh!” Perdita said. “No yelling.”
“Of course, I’m going to—”
But Mona wrapped a gag around her mouth so fast, Daisy nearly choked. And when the shrew tied it in a tight knot at the back of Daisy’s head, she felt the first stirrings of genuine fear overwhelm her fury.
Mona wanted to hurt her. This wasn’t a prank.
Daisy knew this without question.
Perdita strode forward, her grip tight on Daisy’s legs, and try as Daisy might to beat her with her fists, she could get no traction as she bounced along. Her flailings didn’t make a dent in Perdita’s determination to hold her fast.
And then Mona deftly slid a noosed rope over her hands and pulled it tight, effectively tying her hands behind her back.
Daisy did her best to scream with the gag, but the sound was muffled and came out weak. No one at any distance would hear her.
She bucked and writhed, but Perdita merely held her tighter and kept walking.
Daisy was getting dizzy. Spots of red and black appeared before her eyes.
“Hurry,” Mona hissed at Perdita. “We’ve only a few minutes before the sun goes down.”
“I’m hurrying,” Perdita said. “Why can’t we just kidnap her and sell her as a slave?”
A slave?
“I know what I’m doing,” said Mona. “A slow death by bog will give me great pleasure. And there will be no evidence.”
All Daisy could see was down. And below her, the ground turned from grassy and rocky to bracken covered. And then there were tree trunks.
This was the copse not far from the Stone Steps. The one with the dangerous bog.
Binney’s Bog.
Daisy kicked and screamed to no avail.
Mona laughed. “You’re angry. Well, now you know how I feel. For twenty years I’ve endured you, and I’ve had enough. Hurry, Perdy. If we’re going to make a run for it, you’ve got to do this fast. I’ll wait for you in the village.”
“No!” cried Perdita. “Aren’t you coming with me?”
“I said I’ll wait for you,” Mona said through gritted teeth, and left without even saying good-bye.
Perdita hurried, which meant Daisy was scratched by twigs and branches. It got darker and darker in the woods. Finally, Perdita put her down. Daisy’s chest heaved as she tried to inhale through her nose.
Don’t panic,
she told herself.
Perdita was breathing hard, too.
Daisy blinked over and over. “Please,” she tried her best to say. “Please.” And then she looked down at the gag on her mouth.
“You want to talk?”
Daisy widened her eyes and jumped up and down.
“I’ll let you say one thing,” Perdita muttered, “but that’s only because a prisoner usually gets one last chance to say something. I read that once.”
She looked away from Daisy and gave what sounded like a snort. And then suddenly a series of sobs erupted from her homely face. “Daisy, I don’t want to do this. But I’m scared she’ll kill me if I don’t. I’m
scared
of her.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “If I let you talk, do you promise not to yell for help?”
Daisy nodded her acquiescence.
Perdita stuck her finger between the gag and Daisy’s cheek and pulled the cloth away from her skin for a brief second.
“The Highlander would never do something so cowardly,” Daisy said quickly.
Instantly, Perdita scowled. “I’m no Highlander. Just ask the Spanish marquis. He hates me for pretending to be one. And it’s all your fault.”
She tightened the gag, and now Daisy was the one to cry.
Perdita took a moment to wipe her nose on her skirt, then suddenly her shoulders sagged, her anger forgotten. She turned to Daisy. “There’s one last thing I have to tell you. I’m sorry I burned down your mother’s bungalow.”
Daisy felt a jolt run through her, causing her knees to buckle. Perdita had caused the fire—and not she?
“Even Mother and Cassandra don’t know I’m responsible,” Perdita said in a whisper that was loud enough to bounce off the trees. “You left it darkened, and then went inside to play cards with Roman and Cassandra. And I decided to go out there to cut up the dresses you’d made. I had to light a candle to do it. But one dress caught on fire, and then everything went up in flames. It was an accident, and I’m sorry. Not because you lost your dresses and the bungalow, but because I know I”—she let loose with a sob—“I’m the one responsible for your father’s death. He was a good man. And I’m bad.”