Marcus's stomach lurched.
Justin frowned. "The guards would have instructed them to jump long before they reached the cliff. The men wouldn't have willingly gone over with the carriage." Justin turned and walked toward the road until he disappeared among the trees. A moment later, his faint call sounded from beyond the trees.
Marcus didn't move.
"Father," Kiernan said.
Marcus looked at him and Keirnan gave him an inquiring look. Marcus started toward Justin's voice. He broke from the trees to find Justin examining the road. Father Fynn followed, his horse's reins in hand. Kiernan trailed with the remaining horses.
Justin didn't look up at their approach, only said, "Marcus, you are a far better tracker than I. Have a look."
Marcus moved forward as though in a dream and squatted next to Justin.
"This road is nearly as rocky as the shore," Justin said. "However, there is no mistaking these tracks."
Marcus looked at the inch long depression crushing the moss which grew between the rocks.
"And," Justin went on, "these." He pointed to another small rut to his right.
Marcus looked at the track. He frowned and looked up at Justin. "A second carriage"
The earl nodded. "Have you any idea if this could be Elise's carriage?"
Marcus looked from one carriage track to the other, then back at Justin. "Nay."
"They are two separate tracks, then?"
"Aye. They are spaced too far apart to be the same carriage." He surveyed the ground. "This road isn't used a great deal." The road branched off the main road to Edinburgh. He looked at Father Fynn. "This is the road you took from Braemer?"
"Aye," the priest answered.
"We found no sign of the carriage leaving the main road," Marcus said.
"True," Justin agreed. "But the rain the night before obliterated most tracks."
Marcus rose and stepped slowly toward the trees, all the while scanning the ground. When he saw the partial indentation of a hoof print, he looked up and stared at the trees through which Elise's carriage had raced.
"Kiernan," he called without looking back, "bring me my horse."
"Wait here," Marcus told Justin and Kiernan when they followed him down the chapel hallway. They had remained close—too close—on the ride to the church, and Marcus had no stomach for it when he faced what lie ahead.
They obeyed, and he continued to the door that separated him from the body of the woman Father Fynn insisted was his wife. Marcus reached for the door, his hand shaking so badly he gripped the doorknob with force enough to turn his knuckles white. He pushed the door open, stepped through, then shoved it shut behind him.
In the time it took to slide his gaze from the floor to her body, the memory of Elise turning to face him the day he'd happened upon her in the meadow flashed before him. Burned into his mind was the proud expression that revealed the indomitable spirit that would not be tamed.
The memory shattered at sight of the body lying on the small bed in the corner of the room. He reeled. Father Fynn warned that her skull had been damaged beyond recognition, but nothing had prepared Marcus for this. His belly roiled. He fell to his knees, his stomach finally giving up what little he had been coerced into eating the past two days. He wretched until he thought his liver would follow, then slumped forward.
A sudden pounding on the door jarred him. "Father!" Kiernan called from the other side of the door.
Amidst the pounding came Justin's calmer, "Marcus."
"Stay out!" Marcus shouted.
He leaned forward, his palms finding purchase on the floor amidst the vomit. The pounding ceased. Marcus slowed his ragged breathing, but no amount of effort controlled the shaking of his body. He forced his head up, steadying his gaze on Elise's skirts, torn and mud-caked. He recognized the light yellow damask. His gaze moved of its own volition to her hands, folded across her chest in an attitude of rest. Without thought, his gaze yanked farther up her body and he stared at the unrecognizable face.
Marcus jerked to consciousness as though roused from a slumber of years. Daylight had faded the sky to a purple haze. He rode between Justin and Kiernan. He searched his memory but found no recollection of how he had come to be there. He looked left, past Kiernan, and studied the forested land. There was something—something he couldn't quite grasp. He looked ahead at the road, damp from the day's shower. The recollection hit him like a bolt of lightning. He couldn't mistake the place. Marcus yanked on his horse's reins, wheeling the beast past Kiernan.
"Father!"
Marcus ignored his son and galloped through the trees toward the spot where Elise's carriage had run off the cliff. Hoof beats followed, but he cared nothing for his companions. He broke from the trees into the clearing at the cliff's edge and brought his horse to a halt ten feet from the cliff. Marcus leapt from its back and strode to the very edge of the cliff.
"Father!" Kiernan's shout preceded his burst into the clearing.