The Capture of the Earl of Glencrae by Stephanie Laurens
He landed against the upright rock on the waterfall end of the ledge—but he didn’t let go of Baine’s shoulders. The instant his spine met the solid rock, he swung Baine to the side—off the ledge—and let go.
The rest happened in a heartbeat.
Baine tipped past the point of no recall. On a panicked yell, he released one hand and flailed wildly—then fell.
But he’d left one hand locked in Dominic’s coat.
The sudden wrench before Baine’s weight ripped his fingers free spun Dominic around—out over the edge.
His feet had no purchase on the wet ledge.
Instinctively he flung his arms around the upright rock.
As his weight swung him out over the void.
On a scream he heard even over the falls’ roar, Angelica appeared above him, reaching around and over the rock to curl her small fingers into his coat sleeves.
She’d flung herself against the rock, wrapped herself around it. Anchoring him.
Temporarily.
He dangled a hundred yards above the jagged black rocks on which Baine already lay broken.
Beside him the waterfall thundered past, drenching him, drenching the rock his wet fingers clung to.
His grip on the rock was tenuous. He tensed his fingers, felt several slip. Cursed and forced himself to relax them, to keep at least that much contact.
Searching the cliff to either side of the anchoring rock, he looked for toeholds, but the ledge was undercut. Unable to swipe the wet hair from his face, he hauled in a breath, blinked, squinted, and saw one little outcropping to his left.
His weaker side.
Even as he contemplated it, Angelica jerked. Caught her breath on a sob.
He looked up at her and realized her feet had slid.
She was helping support his weight, and his weight was too great; inch by inch, he would pull her over the rock, until they both fell.
He glanced at the toehold. In an effort that left his shoulders and hips screaming, he managed to lift his left leg without pulling against her and balance the toe of his boot on the protruding rocky knob.
The contact allowed him to brace enough to ease the pull on his arms a fraction.
Even as he did, Angelica slipped again.
Cold certainty rolled over him. There was no way she could hold him, and there was no way he could climb up.
“Angelica . . . angel, you have to let go.” He refused to think of what he was saying, clung instead to the reason—the one reason above all else.
Pale, her features tight, she stared down into his face. “No.”
He inwardly sighed. “Sweetheart, you can’t hold me. If you try to hang onto me, you’ll fall, too, and that’s madness. Please, let go.”
Her chin set in a way he’d grown to delight in but didn’t want to see now. “You’re not listening. No—I’m not letting you go. Not now, not ever. That’s not how this is supposed to end.”
He didn’t know how much longer he had. His fingers were nearly numb. When his grip slipped, he’d fall . . . and take her with him. He dragged in a breath, looked up and met her eyes. “I love you. You are the sun and moon and all life to me. I told you I don’t deserve you, and I don’t expect you to love me back, but I know you care for me, so please, I beg you, because I love you, please let me go.” He hesitated, lost in her eyes, then simply said, “I can face death, but I don’t want to die knowing I caused your death, too.”
“Then you better not fall—and you’re not going to die!” She choked, slipped again, then through clenched teeth muttered, “Why are men such fools?”
He clung to calm. He couldn’t last long. “Ang—”
“No!” The negative was ferocious. She glared at him. “You dolt—has it never occurred to you that I love you? Which means I will never, ever, not in a million years let you go?”
Angelica saw his slow blink. Realized that he hadn’t, in fact, worked that out. “Arrgh!” If she could have, she would have hit him . . . suddenly remembered. “Where are my brothers and cousins?”
His lips twisted. “They were following, but I outstripped them. They’re probably lost and well away from here. You can’t count on any help—”
She filled her lungs as best she could, tipped her head back, and screamed to the sky, “Rupert!”
Filling her lungs again, she screamed, “Alasdair! He-e-elp!”
Her cries echoed back from the mountains all around, then faded into the roar of the falls.
And her body shifted forward again. She looked down, knowing that it was entirely possible that they both would fall and die. Her breasts were flattened against the rock, the front of her gown soaked, her leather-soled shoes wet . . . and only the balls of her feet were still in contact with the ledge.
Face set, Dominic grimly looked up at her. While she kept her fingers locked in his sleeves, he wouldn’t try to let go of the rock—would do his best to hang on. She saw him open his lips, but before he could speak, she did. Fiercely. “Don’t you dare argue! You have to hang on—we have a shared life to live, in case you’ve forgotten. You promised you would marry me if I helped you get the goblet back, and I have, so you can’t renege and leave me a ruined woman.”
He looked at her, and she saw the simple, unadorned light of love shining in his eyes. “Angel—”
“No.” She wanted to shake her head, but she didn’t dare move even that much. “I decided you were mine the instant I saw you in Lady Cavendish’s salon—I set out to make you fall in love with me from then, and now I’ve succeeded I’m not letting you go, not now, not ever. As far as I’m concerned, not even death will part us, not yet—not for a very long time.”
She heard rock crunch above them.
“Angelica?”
“Down here!”
Seconds later, her brothers and cousins, Breckenridge, and Jeremy were all there. And for the first time in her life, she wasn’t going to trust them. She had something far too precious at stake.
“Let go, and we’ll haul him up.” Gabriel had fastened his hands about her waist, anchoring her.
Confident he—all eight of them—would never let her fall, she set her chin and shook her head. “No. I’m not going to let go. You can organize yourselves and pull him up, but I’m not letting go while you do it.”
Dead silence followed that pronouncement. None of them were slow; they could follow her reasoning.
It was Devil, standing beside the rock, who, after exchanging glances with the others, looked at her, then exhaled through his teeth. “All right.”
The organizing wasn’t a simple matter. Dominic weighed more than any of them, and with the ledge so slippery they couldn’t risk just having one man pulling on each of his arms. In the end, Devil was anchored by Richard and Lucifer, and Vane by Demon and Gabriel. Breckenridge and Jeremy held on to her while Devil and Vane, one on either side of the rock, leaned over and reached around until they each grasped one of Dominic’s wrists. Slowly, they straightened, inch by inch drawing Dominic up until they stood upright and his chest was level with the edge. Once all of them were steady, braced, and ready, on a count of three, they all shifted first one, then two, then three paces along the ledge, away from the rock and the falls, to where the edge was clear and they could pull Dominic the rest of the way up and onto it.
With his feet finally on solid ground, Dominic drew in a huge breath, then nodded to the men who had saved them. “My thanks—”
Angelica flung herself at him, slapped her hands to his cheeks, hauled his head down, and kissed him.
Hard. Long. Deep.
He closed his arms about her and she all but wrapped herself about him—in full view of her brothers, cousins, and future brothers-in-law.
His head started to spin.
She finally pulled back, broke the kiss—then pushed out of his arms, drew bac
Puzzled, he rubbed at the spot. “I don’t have any fascination—”
“Was that”—flinging out an arm, eyes blazing, she pointed at the sheer drop past the edge of the ledge—“or was that not the second . . . no, wait! What did Baine say—he pushed you off a cliff years ago, didn’t he?”
“That was a ravine.”
“Don’t quibble. It was a cliff—another cliff. Which makes this the third cliff you’ve fallen off!”
Her voice was rising. Conscious of their audience, he tried to calm her. “This is Scotland. There are a lot of cliffs.”
“But you don’t have to make a habit of falling off them!” She pointed at the edge again. “That was the second time in as many months!”
Her voice quavered. If he suggested she was getting hysterical . . . she might cry. And that would be worse. Infinitely worse. So he nodded. “All right. I’ll stay away from cliffs for the foreseeable future.” He heard a muffled guffaw from further along the ledge, but he kept his gaze on her over-bright eyes. Arched his brows. “All right?”
She glared at him, but then lifted her chin and nodded. “Yes. Good. See that you do.”
With that, she stepped closer. He put an arm around her and she leaned against him, resting her head on his chest.
Over her head, he looked steadily at the eight large men filling the other end of the ledge.
They looked back at him, then Devil Cynster turned away and stepped off the ledge onto the path leading down. One by one the others followed, some—most—with smiles he wasn’t sure he understood curving their lips, until there were only her brothers left.
The black-haired one, Lucifer Cynster, continued to measure him for a moment more, but then Angelica shifted and looked at the pair; after a second of studying her, Lucifer’s lips kicked up and he, too, turned away.
Leaving Gabriel staring, face impassive, at his youngest sister.
Angelica narrowed her eyes at her most protective brother in clear and unequivocal warning.
After a moment, Gabriel shifted. He lifted his gaze to Dominic’s face, then shook his head. “She’s all yours. Enjoy in good health.”
As Gabriel turned away, Dominic murmured for her ears alone, “I intend to do just that.”
Angelica looked up at him and smiled. Brilliantly. What had happened—all they’d won—was only just sinking in . . . she remembered and looked round. “Where’s the goblet?”
They both looked toward the cairn. “There it is.” She walked over and picked up the golden cup from where she’d dropped it when she’d rushed to help Dominic. Dusting it off, she carried it back to him. Halting beside him, she examined the round jewels set circling the bowl, the swirl of the stem, the finely etched interior, then she presented it to him.
He smiled, lifted it from her hands, then, one arm sliding around her, ushered her along the ledge, and they set off in her brothers’ wake.
Lucifer glanced back, then predictably halted and waited until they reached him. He nodded at the goblet. “What’s that?”
Dominic hesitated, but he knew of Lucifer Cynster’s reputation. He handed the goblet over. “It’s the Coronation Cup of the Scottish Regalia. It’s what this saga has been all about.”
“It is?” Walking beside them, Lucifer examined the cup. “How so?”
Dominic waved at the others walking ahead. “Let’s get back to the castle, and we can tell you all there.”
Handing back the goblet, Lucifer shivered. “I won’t say no to a hot bath and dry clothes.” He grinned at Dominic. “At least when we borrow your clothes, they won’t be too small.”
Dominic smiled.
Devil, Vane, and Richard were standing in a group a little way along. Devil pointed off the track as they reached them. “I assume that’s the murderer you went after?”
Through a veil of roiling spume, they could just make out the body of Langdon Baine, sprawled face up on the jagged black rocks at the base of the falls. Dominic nodded. “That’s him.”
“He got to the goblet first—it was hidden in the cairn—and when I grabbed it he tried to throw me off the edge.” Angelica glanced up at Dominic. “Dominic got there just in time.”
Devil nodded. “We saw that part, but we got lost finding our way up.” He looked at Dominic. “Who was he?”
“Langdon Baine. He’s—he was—laird of Clan Baine. They hold the lands to the south of ours.” Dominic nodded at the hills on the opposite side of the valley in which the castle stood. “Their lands are on the other side of the ridge, high and not particularly fertile.”
“What did he have against you?” Vane asked.
“I don’t know, but I suspect”—Dominic raised the goblet, considered it—“that it was more in the nature of an undeclared clan feud. He apparently wanted to wipe all Guisachans from the highlands.”
Gabriel eyed the goblet. “And stealing that would have done it?”
“It would.” Dominic caught Gabriel’s eye. “I’ll explain later.”
He glanced back at the distant body, then they all turned and walked on.
Angelica caught his eye, arched a brow.
“I’ll send a party from the castle to fetch his remains and take them to Baine Hall.”
She nodded, then thought of the other bodies that waited for them in the keep, and sobered.
Bringing up the rear of their procession, they walked home in silence.
Home.
As they rounded the ridge and the castle came into view, rising majestically above the loch, surrounded by its forests, set within its mountains, she felt her heart swell, and marveled. She’d only been there for a few days, yet it was already home in her mind. Curious . . . but perhaps not surprising. She glanced at Dominic. It was the place he called home, the one place on earth where he truly belonged. And she, and her heart, now and forever, belonged with him. With his.
Looking down at the goblet, he paused, then handed it to her. “You get to carry it in.” Putting it into her hands, he raised his gaze to her eyes. “Without you, I wouldn’t have succeeded in reclaiming it.”
She smiled and they walked on, with her cradling the goblet in her hands. “You might also say that without it—without your father pledging it, without your mother stealing it, without you seeking to reclaim it—you would never have found and claimed me.”
Looking up, she met his eyes, saw the emotion she’d seen so clearly above the falls still softly shining in the cloudy green.
Reaching up, Dominic took one of her hands from the goblet and twined his fingers with hers. “Often in my life, I’ve seen the signs, read the trails, enough to know fate moves in mysterious ways . . . and she always has her own agenda.”
Angelica laughed, a musical sound that echoed off the hills and filled his heart.
Smiling, he drew her on. As they walked down the slope to the postern gate, he dared to believe that, at last, fate had finally finished with him.
Explanations had to wait. The instant they stepped into the store room, curious Cynsters at their backs, there were decisions to be made, orders to be given, arrangements, and all manner of organization to be attended to.
However, by general consensus the first matter to be dealt with was the goblet. With her male relatives looking on, Angelica found herself by Dominic’s side on the porch of the keep, holding up the goblet to the cheering clan.
Dominic looked down at her, then stepped back and closed his hands about her waist. “Here.” He hoisted her up and sat her on his shoulder.
She laughed and raised the goblet even higher—and the clan roared its approval.
Later, they retreated to the great hall. Food and warming drinks were served while guest rooms were made ready and hot water was heated. Dominic
Although curious herself, Angelica let them go and went instead to see Elspeth, who had recovered enough to demand to be allowed to help Brenda lay out the countess, then she checked with Mulley and John Erskine as to the likely funeral arrangements for Dominic’s mother and McAdie. The old man had hung on long enough to hear the cheers from the courtyard. “After that,” Mulley said, “he just smiled and let go. Reckon he’s at peace now.”
The next hours went in sorting out her relatives, each of whom, being so very male, insisted that she, courtesy of the falls every bit as damp as they were and a fragile female to boot, had the first of the hot water.
She wondered if they’d actually thought she would argue. Warm again, her hair dried, brushed, and arranged, satisfyingly garbed in one of her new teal silk gowns, she bustled about what she now thought of as her keep, and organized them.
At one point, she met Gabriel, Lucifer, Devil, and Vane in the upstairs gallery outside the rooms they’d been given; they’d been talking, but fell silent as she swept up to them. Halting before them, she studied each of their faces, then drew breath and simply said, “Thank you. If you hadn’t been bull-headed enough to come racing up here . . .” Just thinking about what she’d nearly lost had emotion clogging her throat. Blinking, she waved a hand.
They all looked faintly horrified.
Gabriel reached out and hauled her into a hug. “If you want to thank us, for God’s sake don’t cry. Save that for him.”
She sniffed. “All right.” She jabbed his arm and he released her. “Just don’t think I approve of why you came, but I am very grateful that you did.”
She kissed each lean cheek, then left them shaking their heads, bemused and confused as ever.
Then dinner was upon them. The boys and the dogs had returned from their day’s outing with Scanlon and his crew, with a buck for the kitchens and the story of the hunt on their lips. Discovering a host of men all very like their cousin suddenly in residence, and swiftly ascertaining that all those men—just like their cousin—were willing to engage with and humor young boys, Gavin and Bryce didn’t know to whom to appeal first for information, and stories, and tales of life.