Down the Rabbit Hole

“He learned that I’ve been neglecting her in favor of gambling and . . . other women. If he should tell her, and she leaves, all will be lost. I’ve given my word to give up my vices and become a dutiful husband.”


The woman’s voice lowered to a hiss. “Your hunter must finish this.”

“For double the price?”

“What do we care what price he demands?” There was a hint of smile in the woman’s words. “Once the deed is done, we’ll see that he takes his secret to his grave. That way, we get to keep it all. Ours, as well as what he demanded.”

There was a long stretch of silence before the man’s voice sounded hushed. “How clever of you. You’re right, of course. He leaves us no choice. If we’re ever to be free, we must rid ourselves of all obstacles.”

“There will be a new moon rising soon. Send your man to Stag’s Head Peak as soon as it appears in the sky.”

“’Twill serve the beast right. All his grand talk about honor. He values his family lands more than his family’s needs. I’d gladly trade both honor and land for the gold it will bring us.” The man’s voice was chilling. “Soon it will all be ours. And no one will be the wiser. Even while they mourn their loss, our clansmen will cheer the death of a beast that fills all their hearts with terror.”

“And all will hail the day that they were finally set free of the Beast of the Highlands.”





CHAPTER THREE




Beth jolted upright and felt a moment of panic at the shadows leaping and dancing across the walls of her room. When she realized they were caused by the flames on the grate, she let out a sigh of relief.

Had she really overheard a plot to kill Colin Gordon? Or had it all been a bad dream? After that fall, and the crazy night she’d put in, she couldn’t be certain of anything. She decided that, at least for now, she would store it away, along with all the other strange nightmares that had plagued her sleep. They’d been so disjointed, so terrifying, they couldn’t possibly be anything more than bits and pieces of nonsense. It had to be as Colin Gordon had told his housekeeper. The fall had affected her mind.

The dawn sky outside the balcony was awash with ribbons of pink and gold and mauve. If she moved quickly she might still be able to repair the damage she’d caused by her embarrassing introduction. That awkward fall on the way to the lodge had ruined any hope of making a grand entrance. On the contrary, she’d made a complete fool of herself the previous evening. She’d not only barged in on a party, but had angered her host.

At least he’d been gracious enough to permit her to stay the night. But he’d been angry enough to let her know he felt he had no choice. No matter what arrangements had been made by the firm, she feared she would not be welcome to remain another day. She needed to meet with him as soon as possible and present the firm’s offer, before she lost her best, her only, chance to make a deal.

She touched a hand to her head, where a dull ache was a reminder of just how hard she’d fallen.

She shoved aside the bed linens and got to her feet.

She could find no light switch. What in the world . . . ? Could Colin Gordon be so determined to honor his family’s history that he’d refused to switch his hunting lodge over to electricity?

And where were her clothes? Apparently the housekeeper had taken them away to be cleaned. In their place lay a very old-fashioned costume. Some sort of gown of unbleached ivory wool, along with a soft chemise and knee-length drawers that appeared to be hand-embroidered with delicate rosebuds.

Was this intentional? Was she being informed that the masquerade party would last the entire weekend?