Chapter 43

Her hand in Kyle's, Troth climbed to the next level of the castle, feeling buoyant from the pure, clean rush of his chi. Even if he hadn't spoken, she would have known that the chapel had crystallized his spiritual healing. Wholeness had been coming gradually, she realized, as he fought his way back to physical and emotional health after the ordeal he'd endured in China.

Ruefully she recognized that she hadn't been much help to him. She'd gone from anxious servility to prickly anger, skipping the intermediate stage of being a caring, helpful friend, let alone a true wife. She'd been of no use to either him or herself. The weeks since his return had been difficult for them both. Yet they'd survived, and were both regaining internal harmony. What might that lead to?

The second level of the castle contained low, crumbled stone sheds that had been used for storage, workshops, and livestock. Rather than explore, they continued climbing and went through the gate of the third and highest level. The keep, guardhouses, and other essential buildings, all roofless now, were set around three sides of a courtyard. The fourth side, on the south, was formed by the high stone wall that they'd just passed through, which separated the main level from the workshops.

The approaching storm had stiffened the wind to the point where it would take a man's hat off, but that only added to the barbaric splendor of the setting. Troth threw back her head and laughed, because she was happy and Castle Doom was as wild and free as the wind itself.

The main keep ran along the east wall to their right, but Kyle gestured left to the stone steps that ran up to the battlements in the southwest corner of the courtyard. "If you can manage one last climb, you'll be able to see half of central Scotland."

She gave him a teasing glance. "I shall manage. I'm not so sure that you will."

Before he could reply, an ear-numbing boom shattered the air. Troth winced, thinking it was thunder from the coming storm.

As another bolt shook the skies, Kyle grabbed her around the waist and physically dragged her through the empty doorway of the keep. More thunder sounded while he yanked her left from the door and flattened her against the stone wall. Disoriented, she gasped, "What are you doing? "

"Someone's out there, and he's shooting to kill," he said grimly.

Before Troth could protest, several more cracks sounded, and she saw debris flying upward from the ground inside the doorway, less than a yard away from them. She stared in horror at the pockmarked earth. "Why would someone be shooting at us?"

"I wish I knew. Perhaps it's a madman who has taken up residence here and resents intruders."

She could feel the beating of his heart where they pressed together. He was protecting her, she realized. No bullet could strike her without going through him first. "How did you know so quickly?"

"In India I joined some army patrols on the North-West Frontier. Very educational. The Afghans are excellent shots. One doesn't forget the sound of a rifle when it is aimed at one's heart."

She was willing to bet he'd never mentioned such expeditions to his father. The thought of him there horrified her, and she hadn't even known Kyle then.

The shooting had stopped after they disappeared from view, so he withdrew a step and pulled off his coat. After bunching the fabric, he edged the coat into the open doorway at head level. Another ragged volley sounded, and from the way the fabric jerked she guessed that at least one bullet had struck Kyle's decoy. As he put the coat on again, she saw the white of his shirt through scorched, smoldering holes.

"I think there must be at least two men, and they're carrying multishot rifles," he said coolly. "Probably they're in the guardhouse directly opposite us, so they have a clear view of the whole courtyard, including the gate that leads to the lower level. We'd be riddled with bullets before we moved ten feet toward the gate."

"I didn't know there were multishot rifles."

"Several of the most expensive London gunsmiths make them. It's not the kind of weapon a poor, crazed Scottish hermit would be carrying."

Grasping for hope, she asked, "You always travel armed, don't you?"

"Yes, but all I have is a single-shot pistol that would be good only at close quarters. Useless against two rifles."

When she started to ask another question, he placed his hand over her mouth as he listened. The only sound was the wail of the wind. If someone was moving stealthily across the courtyard toward their refuge in the keep, there was no warning sound. The knowledge that the killer might be approaching even now made Troth's skin crawl.

Kyle pulled out his traveling pistol and cocked it, aiming it in the direction of the door as he raised his voice. "If we're trespassing on your property, please accept my deepest apologies. Allow us to go unharmed and we'll never bother you again."

"Aye, then," a thickly Scottish voice boomed across the courtyard. "Come ye out and ye can leave safely if ye swear ne'er to come back."

Troth frowned, thinking the voice familiar, but Kyle's face hardened like granite. "I don't trust you to let us walk away unharmed, Caleb Logan," he called back.

Her jaw dropped as she recognized the voice of her father's old partner. But why would he be here, trying to kill them?

"So you know it's me," Logan said jovially, reverting to his normal accent. "You guessed right, too-you willna leave Castle Doom alive. You took your time getting here, though. Scouse and I got bloody bored waiting for you to arrive."

"Damnation, Logan's the one who suggested bringing you here," Kyle said under his breath. "It was such a good idea that it never occurred to me that he was setting a trap. God only knows why he wants us dead. Do you know who Scouse is?"

Troth nodded. "One of Logan's sea captains. They say he's a vicious devil."

"A reliable ally for murder, in other words." Kyle scanned the empty shell of the keep that was both shelter and prison. Four stories tall and the largest of the ruined buildings, the keep was the eastern wing of a U-shaped series of structures, all roofless and of varying heights. The doorway through which they'd entered was the only opening on the ground floor. All other doors and windows were two or more stories up the walls. The builders of Castle Doom hadn't wanted enemies to be able to enter easily.

His gaze lingered on the lowest of the south-end windows. Two stories up, it overlooked the lower levels of the castle. Then he shook his head. "We could probably manage to climb up to that window and then down the outside of the keep, but once we reached the lower levels of the castle we'd be easy targets. If we climbed from the back of the keep and down the cliffs… Well, I'll try if there's no other choice, but the odds aren't good."

She was so terrified she could barely breathe, but she managed to keep her voice steady. "You're saying there's no way out, and it's just a matter of time until Logan or Scouse come into the keep and shoot us like rats."

"I'd risk the cliffs first, but I think there's a better way." He caught her gaze with his. "Christ, I hate suggesting this!"

"Whatever the best chance is, we try it. What are you thinking? "

"You're agile as a monkey and you can outfight any man I've ever seen." He made a gesture that encompassed the keep and the north end of the castle. "The ruins run around three sides of the courtyard, and they offer concealment for someone to circle around and reach the guardhouse from the back. If I keep Logan talking and distracted, do you think you can make your way through the ruins and attack them from behind? Kung fu is no help against a rifleman at a distance, but if you can reach them without being seen, we have a chance."