Across Captive Seas Read online

  Angela had witnessed the ultimate betrayal, all the more shocking because she had thought Scott incapable of the act. Stupid fool! Idiot! That’s just what she was, the victim of Scott’s cruel hoax. What lies the man was capable of and she had fallen for them, like an innocent lamb led to the slaughter. Well he had duped her for the last time. Never again would she believe him. She was leaving and would never return.

  Righteous indignation was the only force that empowered her to shakily mount her horse and make her way back to the castle. Once there she accosted Angus in the courtyard ordering him to take her sailing in the ketch.

  He looked at her white face and wide, glittering eyes and knew there would be trouble. They had fought again; the marriage was continually on the rocks. Angus tried to dissuade her but she was adamant—if he didn’t take her she would go into town and hire a fishing boat. He gave in reluctantly, eyeing the fog and wondering if they would even catch a breeze. Well if they didn’t there would be no way to sail to the Isle of Skye.

  Clyde Macdonald kicked a rock down the embankment, his rifle slung over his shoulder. Foul weather and even if he found something to shoot at, it would escape into the fog before he could take aim. Thank goodness he would be off to London in a few weeks, back to the gay, liberal society he liked so much.

  He had been buried in the country for over a year now, ever since his father’s death; his mother dragging around the dismal, old castle like a wounded bird. How anyone could survive such bleakness and monotony was beyond him. The only activities available were hunting, drinking, sailing, and whoring—and there was a shortage of passable-looking females.

  Clyde’s boredom dissipated as he gazed down at the path that led to the center of the forest, to that mawkish old abbey with no lock on the door. Unlocked, legend had it, so that all lovers would have free access to it. Sentimental rubbish!

  The servants avoided it like the plague, especially since someone had found two baskets of dying red roses by the altar last fall. It was supposedly haunted by Mary Macdonald, builder of the monstrosity, a lady who trailed through the woods crying for her lost love.

  But what he saw now was enough to make him, skeptic that he was, believe in ghosts. Gliding along the fog-shrouded path was an apparition in gray. She faded in and out of sight as she passed through pockets of mist. Her face was white, almost translucent and her big, odd-colored eyes were haunted. Clyde had never seen such eyes in his life and what hair; as dark and glossy as a raven’s wing.

  No woman could possibly be that beautiful; the slim symmetry of her body was utter perfection. She was a wood nymph he decided, his eyes glues to her graceful movement. His heart turned over in his chest. In all his twenty-two years, never had any woman—or specter— affected him in such a manner.

  She vanished from sight and Clyde’s heart lurched. He couldn’t let her get away, he must find out who she was, where she came from. He knew every comely wench on the island and she certainly didn’t come from here—besides she was richly dressed like a lady of quality.

  Clyde half ran, half fell down the steep hill, causing a minor landslide in his haste to find her. He chided himself for giving way to childish fancies. She had to be real! He was insanely, wildly in love with her!

  Clyde ran headlong down the loamy path frantically searching for her between the trees. She couldn’t just disappear—but where was she? He reached the small clearing where Sweetheart Abbey held its own against the forest. She was nowhere in sight and his heart sank down to his boot tops.

  Opening the door Clyde came to a standstill, his awe-struck green eyes swiftly examining the empty interior of the abbey. It was Lady Mary! Loud, unearthly cries shattered the silence, turning his heart to ice. She had dissolved into thin air, only the heartrending sobs an indication she had ever existed.

  He couldn’t move, spellbound by the phantom crying for her lost love. It went on and on without ceasing until he felt like crying himself. Could anyone, anything contain such sorrow? He put his hands over his ears, but still he could hear her.

  How long he stood there he didn’t know. It could have been minutes or hours. A small sound, like a coin falling to the stone floor caught Clyde’s attention. He looked around, once, twice and then saw something sparkling beneath one of the high-backed wooden benches.

  It was she! lying full length on a bench, her streaming face pillowed against her arm. A heart-shaped diamond ring glittered on the flagstone floor beneath her. She was no ghost—ghosts didn’t cry tears. She was very human; the part of her face Clyde could see was a mask of agony and her eyes were red and swollen from weeping.

  He touched her hand and she sprang upright, her watery, green-blue eyes flying open and her hand pressed to her heart. Her sensuous, rose-tinted lips parted in surprise at the sight of him but she said nothing.

  “I heard someone crying and came to investigate,” Clyde said lamely, feeling an intruder on his own property. He put his rifle down and sat beside her. “I’m Clyde Macdonald, of Stonehaven. If I can help you in any way. . . .”

  “No!” Her voice was husky from crying. “I’ll go!” Angela got to her feet and rushed for the door.

  “Wait!” Clyde called. “You dropped your ring.” He picked it up and went after her, holding the diamond out to her.

  “I never want to see it again,” she said tonelessly, backing toward the door.

  “But it’s an expensive stone—looks like a betrothal ring.”

  “My wedding ring.” Some feeling returned to Angela’s voice. “And I will never wear it again!”

  “Is your husband dead?” Clyde was hopeful.

  “I wish he was, the beast! I hate him; he’s arrogant and cruel, sadistic. And he flaunts his mistress under my nose!” Her voice rose to a shriek and she shouted a string of expletives that brought a flush to Clyde’s face.

  Why a man would want a mistress with a creature like her for his wife was beyond Clyde. Lord, she was angry, her eyes flashing like aquamarines and two hot spots of color on her high cheekbones. The words she had just shouted about her husband were enough to make a trooper blush and he wondered where she had learned them. He wanted to know everything about her. She was magnificent!

  Angela snatched the ring from his hand and marched out the door and around to the back of the abbey. Kneeling by the sunken graves she began digging in the soil, ruining her gloves. When she had scooped out a hole about a foot deep she threw the diamond in, packing the earth back over it. She stood up and stripped off the gloves, looking up at the young man who stood in the fog watching her.

  He had a pleasant open-looking face with green eyes and hair somewhere between blond and light brown. Very slim and of medium height he carried himself well. His clothes were elegantly tailored, probably from London, and he spoke very correct English as if trying to hide a Scottish accent.

  He laughed and it lit up his whole face. “I say, I don’t think they will appreciate it. Why don’t you keep it. You might change your mind.”

  Angela didn’t answer. She pushed past him noting the concern on his face and tried to find the pathway back to the loch. The fog was so thick she couldn’t even see the abbey now. Clyde loomed up out of the fog, his legs lost in the swirling mist.

  “It’s turned into a real pea-souper,” he said. “But don’t worry, I could find my way back blindfolded. Where was it you were going?”

  “My servant is waiting at the boat in Loch Sligachan.”

  “I thought you weren’t from here. But you could never sail back to wherever you came from in this. Please accept the hospitality of my mother, Lady Macdonald, and myself. You and your servant are welcome to stay with us at Stonehaven Castle.”

  Damn! They weren’t back yet. Scott paced pantherlike beside the dock watching a thick blanket of fog roll in from the ocean. What had possessed Angela to run off to Sweetheart Abbey? Well at least he knew Angus was with her; if they were stranded on Skye he would know what to do to protect her. But what if they were caught out i
n the Sound. It didn’t bear thinking about.

  They could drift out to the Atlantic and be lost forever. The ketch could be wrecked on a reef or run over by a larger ship. There was even the possibility they could capsize if the waters became too rough. Angela could swim but she wouldn’t stand a chance with her heavy skirts weighting her down—and how long could a human survive in the icy water, lost and not knowing which way to go? Even if none of those things happened, if they were drifting around out there, they could die just from exposure.

  Scott was almost tempted to go after them but the only vessel left was a rowboat and already the fog curled around the castle. No, he could do no good floundering around out there lost himself. There were the children to consider too. If Angela didn’t come back he would be left to raise them alone.

  He felt almost sick with apprehension. Now that they were reunited and she loved him, Scott couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. He had had a few twinges of conscience over the lie he had told Angela, but it was working out so perfectly he was glad he had decided on the course he had taken. Now his conscience was bothering him over another matter.

  It had been bound to happen, he couldn’t spend the rest of his life living like a monk. But the thought that he had deceived Angela didn’t sit very easily on his mind. It hadn’t been planned; it just happened, and before he knew what came over him it was finished.

  It had been Peggy, a little older and plumper, the girl he had sown his wild oats with the summer they were both seventeen. She was married now with five children but her lusty, uncomplicated nature was the same. They met quite by accident, she had been picking berries, and when they recognized each other he had caught her in a hug and swung her around. The rest of their brief encounter had been like being struck by lightning. They both wanted it and couldn’t hide their feelings.

  Scott didn’t want to be unfaithful to Angela, but a man could only take so much. He was surprised he had held out this long. Well, as long as he kept his philandering to the barest minimum and was extremely careful, there would be no problem. Angela hadn’t the slightest inkling that he needed a physical relationship with any woman. But he had to protect her at all costs; their marriage was much more important than any dalliance.

  The fog shrouded the island now and Scott turned and went back into the castle. The fogs could be treacherous, lasting for days and some had been known to last for over a week. He would go see the children; at least if he was playing with them his mind would be occupied and it would keep him from thinking of what might be happening outside.

  Scott hardly slept that night. He tossed and thrashed around in the bed and every few minutes got up to look anxiously out the window. It wasn’t even black out, everything was gray and the fog pressed in against the windows, trying to invade the castle itself.

  For five days it lasted and by the time the fog cleared Scott was a sleepless, worried wreck. They were either dead or alive and if they were alive they should appear at any moment. If they weren’t there within the hour he would get every boat in town out looking for them.

  Scott took the spyglass and climbed the stairs of the round tower. From the top he could almost see Sweetheart Abbey. He scanned the island, the horizon and the waters. Still no Angela. “She has to be all right!” he shouted. “Please, Angel, come home to me!”

  He caught sight of something and put the glass to his eye again. It was the ketch! Thank God they were all right! Good old Angus—leave it to him to look after things. Scott frowned, as it got closer it seemed that there were three people in the boat. Well he would find out soon enough who it was.

  Scott was at the dock to greet them as the ketch pulled up. He lifted Angela onto the wooden planks and enfolded her in his arms, squeezing her so tight she was sure he cracked her ribs. She forced herself to respond warmly and kiss him, the success of the plan depended upon catching him unaware.

  Scott looked tired, Angela noted, and she couldn’t help still feeling something for him. It had taken years for her to fall in love with him but she prayed it wouldn’t take that long to get over it. The diamond glittered in the sunlight on her finger. Clyde had convinced her of the wisdom of unearthing it again. Scott would have noticed its absence and that wouldn’t do at all. Their plot was all set, ready to spring shut like a steel trap at the proper time.

  Chapter Three

  The days spent at Stonehaven Castle were a respite for Angela to sort out her feelings and gather her wits about her for what she decided to do. If there had been a confrontation with Scott right after his infidelity there would have been a fight the likes of which neither of them had ever experienced. So it was just as well that she was stranded on Skye and very fortunate that she had run into Clyde.

  It was evident from the beginning that Clyde was enamored of her and this worked to Angela’s benefit when she found out that he was returning to London in two weeks’ time. He insisted that she accompany him on the ship that would set her free from her brutish husband. When she let it slip that she wanted an annulment he became as shy and nervous as a schoolboy, casting calf’s-eyes at her.

  Obviously Clyde nurtured secret hopes that once Angela was free they might be more than friends. This amused her but at the same time she felt as if she were using him and his good nature for her own ends. But there was no other way to escape Scott and the unbearable situation he had put her in.

  Speed was of the essence. Already she could sense Scott’s grasp of something being awry. Angela couldn’t help it. How could she pretend everything was all right when it wasn’t? It would take a consummate actress to fool Scott, and that she wasn’t. So Angela made excuse not to be alone with him and when he asked her if something was wrong she pleaded a headache or some other indisposition.

  Early one morning Scott received a note that his immediate presence was needed in Dornie and strode to the stables frowning. The message was rather vague and he had an uneasy feeling about it. The frown deepened as he thought of Angela. She had been very quiet and withdrawn since returning from Skye, and when he made any attempt at questioning her her answers were amorphous.

  He wondered if anything had happened there that she hadn’t told him about. From his brief meeting with Lord Macdonald it was evident the boy was bewitched by Angela and Scott wondered if Clyde had made any improper advances. It was possible, and perhaps Angela hadn’t told him for fear he would call Clyde out.

  Scott rode away from the castle along the loch road and several miles later almost ran into Peggy hurrying in the opposite direction. She hailed him, her face worried and her manner distraught. Explaining quickly that she had been on her way to see him Peggy told him that she had seen Angela in the village late yesterday afternoon and although the two had never met she was aware it was Scott’s wife. But Angela’s reaction was amazing; she stopped dead and stared at her as if she hated her.

  “If looks could kill,” continued Peggy shaking her head, “I would na’ be here now. I was thinkin’ it strange and came as quick as I could this mornin’. Something’s wrong.”

  “Thank you. Yes, you’re right, something is very wrong!” Scott wheeled his horse around and galloped at breakneck speed back home.

  “Just those three valises,” said Angela pointing. “I thought it would be better to travel light.”

  “You are right as always,” smiled Clyde and he directed the servants to load the baggage on his boat.

  The letter had worked, just as Angela had known it would and Clyde’s timing had been perfect. His boat had slipped up to the island just as Scott had gone from her sight. He should be gone for several hours, chasing down the false lead.

  Angela hadn’t slept a wink all night, going over every step of their plan again and again. It had to work. She and Molly had surreptitiously packed the barest essentials and secreted the valises. Angela’s heart pounded in her throat. In a few minutes she, the children, and Molly would be gone, leaving behind forever this episode in their lives. The two weeks of waiting had seem
ed like two years and now every second stretched into an eternity.

  Robert struggled as Angela pressed him too tightly against her and she loosened her grip, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Molly took Lorna’s hand and they started for the door. Angela looked around the great hall for the last time, bidding a silent farewell to the place she had come to love so well.

  The door swung open and Scott appeared, taking in the situation with one cool sweep of his eyes. Clyde had never seen such brutal savagery on anyone’s face in his life. He didn’t stand a chance against such a giant. Scott towered over him and at that moment Clyde knew what it felt like to face the devil incarnate.

  Scott’s hand shot out and grasped Clyde by the front of his jacket, lifting him completely off his feet, noting with satisfaction the terror bulging in his eyes. With a quick powerful movement Scott hurled him across the room, to land ignominiously in the corner, a disturbed suit of armor crashing down on him.

  Angela thrust Robert into Molly’s astonished arms as Scott turned to her, his eyes blazing. She had seen that expression before—once when he had almost drowned her and again the night he had discovered her with Keith. Her breath came in quick gasps, fear coursing through her body with every frantic beat of her heart.

  Clyde watched dazed as the tiny, elegant lady took a step toward her enraged husband and slapped him across the face with such force the sound was like a pistol shot. What pluck! Angela had more courage in her little finger than he had in his whole body. The blow stood out red on Scott’s face and stopped him momentarily but then he grasped her arm and Clyde threw himself on Scott’s back determined to help.

  Scott shook him off as easily as a fly and dragged him to the door. “If I ever see your face again, you young puppy. I’ll break your damned neck!” With that he kicked Clyde with his booted foot sending him tumbling headlong down the front stairs.