Free Emerald Embrace by Shannon Drake Page A

bed.
    Her fingers were shaking. He hadn’t behaved at all as a gentleman. But then, maybe such a man as Creeghan would never have to pretend that he was what he wasn’t. He had been blunt, crude. He had told her he wanted her.
    She stood up and smoothed down her dress. It was time to arrive deep down below for the memorial service.
    She did not wait for Holly or anyone to escort her. She left her room, closing the door softly behind her. As she hurried for the stairway that would lead her down to the crypts, she reflected that she would have to extend the realm of her search. And to do that, she would have to have Laird Creeghan’s permission to peruse his collection of books. Surely, he could not be so crass as to deny such a request.
    Unless he was afraid she would find something.
    Unless he had murdered Mary.
    She swept away the thought as she passed through the great hall and realized no one was about. She glanced at the timepiece that hung from the slender chain upon her neck and rested at her breast. She was late. The family had surely assembled already.
    The rough stairway leading to the crypts was well lit, but she bit into her lip to remind herself that she must not think of things such as murder. And she must not think that Laird Creeghan had murdered Mary, for if the library yielded nothing to her, then it would be necessary to prowl through his private quarters.
    Did he take Mary there? Were his rooms as dark and dangerously intriguing as the man? Had he carried his laughing bride there to be with him?
    Her palms were wet, her throat was dry. She was descending deep into the valley of the dead, and for a moment, in the twist of the stairs, it seemed she was alone in the world. Alone with the cold, damp stone and the threat of eternal darkness. Alone with the corpses of hundreds of years arrayed in their finery to come up and meet her and greet her, and welcome her to Creeghan when it seemed that the present master would not.
    She heard voices. The fit of fancy left her and she nearly laughed aloud. What a liar she was to say she was not afraid of ghosts! How odd that she could have endured so much for so long, that hellish war, only to come here and find that she was frightened by the thought of a long-deceased chieftain or his bride.
    She came to the last step. Nothing more frightening than the wine cellar to her left, she reminded herself. And before her, there was the chapel, the chapel so beautifully kept, and alive with the light from its exquisite windows.
    She hurried for the chapel and stepped inside. The family was all there, and the servants of Creeghan, so it seemed, and half of the village, too, perhaps. She nearly laughed, despite the solemnity of the occasion. She had thought herself alone. There were at least fifty people within the small chapel.
    And all of them staring at her when she entered. Some openly, some covertly, yet all with suspicion. She was a stranger here, she realized.
    And these people belonged to Creeghan. Just as the castle, just as the land, just as the great bay horse. They made their livelihoods through the laird’s largesse. She wondered if they weren’t every bit as tethered to the lairds of the castle now as they had been hundreds of years ago.
    She tried to smile, and yet her effort faltered, for it seemed she was being boldly studied by young eyes and old.
    A hand slipped through her arm and she turned to see Elaina. “Martise, I was about to come for you! Holly informed us you were tired this morning, the travel catching up with you, no doubt. But when you didn’t arrive here, I grew quite worried.”
    “I did not mean to be so late; I apologize.”
    “Oh, it’s quite all right!” Elaina assured her. And then Martise realized that Bruce Creeghan was standing behind her.
    “Ah, so our dear Lady St. James has come to make her appearance at last!” he said. “Excuse me, Elaina,” he said smoothly to his sister, his hand then upon Martise’s elbow as he led her