She closed her eyes, willing her pounding heart to slow. If this paper had been meant for Michael, why had it sat folded on Marcus's desk the last four days? The man who had demanded the Campbells deliver Shamus's killer to him wouldn't overlook a wife murdering her husband.
Marcus's anger at discovering that the woman he wanted to marry was a wanted criminal like Shamus's murderer would be even greater. She had eluded Price these past months. After what happened between her and Marcus last night, could she hide from him?
Marcus strode across the courtyard toward the gate. The drizzling rain, which had fallen since dawn, now turned into the large drops promised by the dark, low clouds. He would be surprised if Elise had ventured into the village on such a dreary summer day. In fact, he had expected her to be shut up in his library. He felt again the acute disappointment at not being able to make love to her before a low fire as he'd planned.
A moment later, he stood on the battlements, scanning the path leading into the village but saw no one approaching. He shifted his gaze to the dark shadows concealing the secret passage, then turned and surveyed the courtyard. The rain hadn't interfered with the daily goings on. People traveled to and from the castle and among the cottages beyond the bailey.
He scanned the grounds, his gaze centering on Winnie's cottage in the distance. He started to turn from the deserted-looking building when the door opened and a woman stepped out. Marcus studied the figure as she hurried down the single step onto the ground and started in the direction of the castle. He followed her progress until he discerned Mary's features, then turned from the wall. Perhaps she knew something of Elise's whereabouts. A moment later, he pushed through the postern door and strode through the eating hall to the kitchen. Mary appeared in the kitchen's back door as he entered.
"Have you seen Elise?" he demanded without preamble.
The girl paused in the doorway. "N-nay, laird."
Marcus surveyed the women in the room, all of whom had stopped their work and were looking at him. "No one here knows where Winnie is?"
A general "nay" went up and he turned from the kitchen. Where the bloody hell was Elise? And as for Winnie…
A cursory investigation of the castle turned up no sign of Elise. Only three weeks earlier he had been searching for her in much the same manner.
Her absence then was innocent enough. Yet the number of times she had gone to Michael's against his express command, combined with last month's disappearance, unsettled him.
Two hours later, after a more thorough search, including the dungeons, Marcus stalked toward Winnie's cottage. The secret passageway had become his nemesis. At every turn, he feared Elise had somehow managed to escape through it, despite the fact he'd had it sealed from the outside.
He found Winnie's cottage empty. Marcus worked his way through the keep, his temper rising with every step. At last, he reached Lauren's home. Aye, she'd seen Elise, only that had been over an hour ago. He strode from her cottage, across the compound, and into the kitchen. Winnie, this time, sat at the table, plucking a chicken, just as she should have been.
"So, milady," he said, bringing her attention to him, along with that of the other women in the room, "you have returned to the roost."
Winnie looked up from yanking tail feathers from her victim's rump.
"Have you seen Elise?"
Comprehension shone on her face.
"Don't play games with me, Winnie," he warned. "You have seen Elise. I can see it in your eyes."
"No need to get testy." She turned to her chicken. "Try the women's drawing room."
Another five minutes and Marcus shoved open the drawing room door. The women jumped as the door hit the wall with a bang. He swept his gaze across the room before settling dangerously on Elise, who sat on the large couch against the left wall. No one moved as he strode toward her.
"Good Lord, what in the world is wrong?" she blurted when he halted in front of her.
With a jerk of his head, Marcus cleared the room. The door closed with a soft click and he demanded, "Where have you been?"
She blinked. "I-I have just come from Lauren's—"
"Not just come. You left there over an hour ago."
"What have I done now?" she retorted in the same dark tone he'd used.
"It never occurred to you to inform someone—anyone—where you were going?" Marcus grabbed her shoulders. "Don't do this again." He hadn't realized until seeing her, just how far his fear had run. He hugged her.
She wriggled within his grasp. "Marcus."
He leaned back and looked into her face. "The next time you leave the castle, tell someone."
Her brow furrowed, then her lips pursed. She wrested herself from his arms and tumbled back onto the couch. "Go away," she snapped, and reached to smooth her skirts, which had bunched beneath her.
Marcus sat beside her. "Listen to me. There is mischief afoot, and I won't live in fear for your safety, even within the walls of my own home. Do you understand?"
Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want from me? I am a veritable prisoner as it is. Now, like some child, I must ask permission before stepping outside my room?"
"Bloody hell, do you think the Campbells came here out of boredom?"