"Rosa. Rosa!"

Hands, ever so gently, wrapped around her body. The smell of whiskey and musk, and heat. Then excruciating pain. Oh God, her shoulder.

"It's going to be all right. I'm going to take care of ye."

And then the darkness reclaimed her.

* * *

"What did ye think ye were doing?"

Rosa's eyes fluttered open. She was back in McWilliam's bedroom, lying on his bed, and he stood over her, his arms crossed over his chest, biceps bulging.

"What happened?" She struggled to sit. Her shoulder didn't hurt nearly so bad anymore. "Was it dislocated?"

He nodded, once. His gaze stern as he looked her over. "I heard you scream as you fell over the edge. Luckily it wasn't so steep and ye didn't fall too far."

"You heard me?"

"I was at the church. The vantage point from there is perfect to organize search parties." His expression darkened. "You haven't answered my question."

"I was doing the same thing you were. I was heading for the top of the hill. I wanted to know if I would see anything from up there." That sounded a little pathetic, but she didn't back down.

"Even after I told you to stay inside?"

"You're not my master. And I'm not your prisoner. I can come and go as I please."

He ran a hand through his hair with a frustrated growl. "I know that. But it's not safe. Not until I've caught the bastard who murdered Rodd." Rodd was a murderer and now he'd been murdered. Sweet heaven, their lives were beginning to sound like a penny dreadful.

"I can't sit around and do nothing," she snapped, equally frustrated. It was beginning to feel like they'd had this argument a hundred times before. "I can be just as stubborn as you," she threatened.

He pursed his lips, as though he was refraining from saying something particularly ungentlemanly. In the end, he pushed his way onto the bed, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. She dug her elbow into his side "I'll not let you boss me around," she confirmed. "I'm my own person."

"I know." He pulled the pins free of her hair, so it cascaded around her shoulders. "But it's my duty to protect you."

"Only if you let me protect you too."

He pulled back, just far enough to brush his lips lightly over her own. Her insides melted.

A self-satisfied smile touched his lips, and his kisses became more persistent. "I thought..." he murmured, his lips pressed to hers, "when ye screamed..." A nip to her bottom lip. "Love..."

She entwined her hands in his hair, giving over to his inexorable attack on her senses.

His hold tightened, one hand running over her back to her bottom.

Rosa winced.

"What's wrong?"

"That hurt." She rubbed her own lower back, her brow furrowed.

"You must have hit it when you fell."

"No..." she said slowly. "I think I was pushed."

"Pushed?" McWilliam straightened. He could hear his own pounding pulse in his ears. "Do you mean someone pushed you with malice intent?"

"I think so." She tapped her forehead, a crease forming between her eyes. "I remember hearing someone walking up behind me, and then they pushed me down."

He took her face between his hands. "Do you remember anything else? Did you see anything? A boot, or maybe a smell?"

"No. It all happened so fast. I didn't even remember I'd been pushed until you touched my back."

He winced, his insides churning. This was exactly why he'd tried to send her away. She'd be safest away from this estate. But now it was too late to send her to Grant. Not that she'd go willingly anyway. She was so determined to help.

And, he silently conceded, he couldn't really blame her for that. He'd want to be out searching if it was his family threatened.

"It will be getting dark soon," Rosa said with a glance towards the window. "Tomorrow—"

Nay. "We'll deal with tomorrow when it comes." Reluctantly, he stood up. "Do you think you can sit still for a few more hours without getting yourself killed? While there's daylight left I want to re-join the search." Be damn if he wanted to leave her, but he couldn't stop looking. Not when there was still a chance. Still hope.

She gave him her governess look again. It was the look that said 'mock me at your own expense', and it was all together too prim and proper. He wanted to rip off her clothes and pillage her until she screamed his name to the heavens.

But now wasn't the time. And he didn't want to risk being too rough, not after the fall she'd already suffered. And right now, feeling like this, he couldn't guarantee it would be anything but rough.

Pulling a key from his pocket, he pushed it into her hand. "This is for the door. I want you to lock yourself in. I don't know how long I'll be. Fenella can keep an eye on you, but I don't want you to let anyone in. Not even her."

"I don't think that's really necessary—"

"So someone dinna just try to push you down a cliff?" He raised a questioning eyebrow.

She didn't answer.

"Lock the door after me, Thistle." An order. He moved to the door, and she followed, a little unsteady on her feet.

"What about Rhona?"

"I'll tell her the same." He kissed her forehead keeping his hands firmly pressed to his sides to stop himself locking them both in his bedchamber and having his wicked way with her. "Lock the door, and try to get some rest."

"Bossy Boots McWilliam," she said, pouting in a way that stirred his soldier.

He snapped the door closed before his body defied commonsense and he really did rip the clothes from her body.

After quickly checking in on his pregnant sister, McWilliam was halfway to the portcullis when Glenn caught up with him. The young man had taken everything in his stride, and McWilliam was impressed with the effort he'd put into the search.

"We've checked the blackhouses, the Rocky Ruins, the loch and the church," he reported with his effective enthusiasm. "There's a group still scouring the mountains behind Gall, but they're not likely to return before nightfall."

"What about the village itself?"

"Mistress Mary organized that search herself, but there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary."

"And Mary's house?" He hated to ask, but they could leave nobody untouched.

"I did that myself. There was nobody there." He frowned. "I don't want to say it but three days isn't really long enough. There's no way we can search everywhere all over again in that amount of time."

"Then don't say it," McWilliam snapped. "What about the castle?"

"Mistress Mary is bringing the women up now. It's not ideal, but they volunteered and we need all the help we can get."

Good. "It'll be fine. Just make sure they stay in pairs, and keep them away from Rosa and Rhona. I don't want either of them disturbed."

"Right." Glenn bowed his head and then broke into a jog back towards the portcullis where Mary and the other village women had just appeared.

"Get Fenella and the rest of the staff to help," he called after the young man.

"That lad's got spirit." Cameron appeared as if out of nowhere by McWilliam's side.

"Where have you been all afternoon? I didn't see you join the search."

"Nay. I'd stayed here. Someone has to keep an eye on Rhona and the sassenach."

"And a hell of a good job ye did. Someone tried to kill Rosa."

Cameron's mouth dropped open. "When? Where?"

"It doesn't matter." McWilliam brushed him off. He was still angry that his uncle hadn't told him about Rhona and for making her feel so afraid. And he'd certainly hadn't forgiven Cameron for aiding and abetting Rosa's escape attempt. "The point is Rosa's safe. She's locked in my room, and nobody can get in there. She has my key and I've taken away Fenella's."

"That's good." Cameron drew out the last word as though waiting for his thoughts to catch up with his mouth. "You know time's running out, McWilliam. Whitsunday is in three days."

"I have everything under control," he growled. Which was true, as long has he could capture a murderer before the sun rose on three days hence.

* * *

Rosa waited until McWilliam's footsteps had faded away, then she slipped into the corridor after him, locking the door behind her. If anyone came knocking, hopefully they'd just assume she was sleeping. Because it didn't matter that someone had tried to kill her or scare her, she only had today left and she wasn't giving up on Amelia. Not ever.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Rosa spun on her heel. Mary stood at the top of the stairs. She'd rolled up the sleeves of her work gown to her elbows and had an apron tied around her waist.

"The laird isn't here," Rosa said with a glance towards his door. Had Mary seen her leaving his chamber? Though, truth be told, her shattered reputation was the least of her worries now.

"I didn't realize ye were up here," Mary said with a slightly apologetic smile. "I was told to leave you to rest."

"I don't understand." Rosa frowned. "Why are you here? And who told you to leave me to rest?"

"Himself has us searching the castle in case someone is hiding here. I just dinna realize this was where your bedchamber was or else I wouldn't have come up."

"The castle?" Finally, something she might actually be able to do. "Let me help you search."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. McWilliam said—"

"Please, Goodwoman, I need to do something. I need to help." She could hear the desperation, the demand, in her own voice.

Mary seemed to struggle for a moment, then she nodded towards the stairs. "All right, after ye."

They headed to the top storey. Mary's eyes widened as she caught sight of all the newspapers and books.

"The library," Rosa explained. "Apparently McWilliam's father was an avid collector."

"I knew he liked to read, everyone did. I just never realized he had so many." She walked a circle of the room, running her fingertips along the book spines and the crumbling edges of the broadsheets.

"Someone told me Rodd couldn't read," Rosa said, trying to sound like it was a passing comment. She moved to the table in the middle of the room. No new newspapers had been added since she'd last been up here.

"Nay. He was never really interested in his letters. Anndrais elder—McWilliam's grandfather—was like that too."

Rosa remembered McWilliam had been named after his grandfather. That's why he didn't like it when she called him by his Christian name—he didn't like to be reminded of the connection.

"He favored action over his learning," Mary continued. "Master Hearn was completely different. He read everything he would get his hands on."

"It sounds like you knew them well."

"Everyone knows everyone around here. McWilliam, Rodd and I practically grew up together. Well," she laughed, gently, "as much as one can grow up with a laird's son." She circled back around to the door. "I suppose McWilliam's a little in between Master Hearn and Anndrais. He looks a lot like his grandfather and he can be fast to act, but he's also like his father in that he listens to other people's opinions and..."

"...and he isn't a murderer," Rosa finished for her.

"Aye. Ye heard about that. We don't really talk about what Anndrais did."

"I've heard a little." Rosa followed her back down the stairs. They skipped the third storey, stopping on the second. Rosa had never bothered with this floor before. It looked to be abandoned. "He killed three people from your village. A girl and her family. McWilliam seemed to be worried that this tragedy with Duncan and Rodd would stir up memories of back then."

"I guess it has." Mary looked sad, her golden brown eyes framed by downturned brows and fine lines around her frowning mouth. Rosa guessed she was a couple of years older than McWilliam, and while she was taller than Rosa, she had a thin frame that made her look like she'd blow over in a strong gust of wind. Though, Rosa was pretty sure that in this instance, looks were deceiving.

Like the level above, four chambers opened onto a short corridor. Mary opened the closest door. The room beyond was almost completely empty though it had obviously been a bedroom at some point. Most of the furnishings had been stripped away, leaving just a bed, with an old mattress and a thick layer of dust. Nobody had been in here for many years.

They moved to the next room and found more of the same.

"I think this used to be Anndrais's suite." Mary nodded to another door that likely connected with the first abandoned room they'd searched. "That was probably his wife's room. This one certainly looks like it was extravagant enough for him." She nodded to the plaster moldings of the architrave. In classic white with gold ascents it was unlike anything else she'd seen in the castle. It was like something you might find in the drawing rooms of a grand country estate.

"Anndrais liked his luxury," Mary confirmed.

And Rosa was beginning to see just how irresponsible he'd been with his money. As lovely as they were, the moldings would have cost a small fortune, not to mention that they clashed horridly with the otherwise Gothic-medieval look of the castle.

After a quick sweep of the room to establish that nobody had recently disturbed the dust, they stepped back into the corridor.

"If McWilliam hadn't seen him kill Duncan, I don't think anyone would have guessed it was Rodd." Mary sighed. "Then again, for years nobody realized what Anndrais had done. Did you know it was McWilliam who Anndrais confessed to?"

Rosa shook her head. He hadn't told her that part.

"He confessed to everyone on his death bed. He wasn't even the least bit remorseful." She shook her head, clearly disgusted. "As soon as Anndrais told Himself that he'd hidden the bodies in the loch, McWilliam was out there looking for them." A sigh. "It was impossible, of course. The loch is too big and it happened too many years ago."

Rosa's heart swelled. That was her Scotsman. Always trying to do the right thing. Always trying to clean up everyone else's mess.

"What about Cameron?" She thought back to the conversation she'd had with McWilliam a couple of days ago. "Apparently he wasn't always quite so anxious?"

"I suppose not," Mary said as they checked the other two rooms. Also abandoned. Also left to rot.

"Lady Elspeth was something else entirely," Mary continued as they headed down to the ground floor. "She was feisty and spirited. She really brought this place back to life, for a while anyway."

"Rhona mentioned her to me just a little while ago. What happened?"

"She died really suddenly of a fever. Nobody saw it coming, least of all Cameron. It near enough broke his heart. You see, she was expecting." Mary cringed at the thought of losing a child and a wife. "He'd always been uptight and cautious, but when Lady Elspeth died he became almost neurotic. It's sad. To love someone so completely your whole world falls away when they're gone."

"Yes." Rosa wrapped an arm around her stomach, thoughts of McWilliam never far from her mind. If anything happened to him 'neurotic' would be the least of it.

Mary opened the only door on the ground floor. It was a little behind the stairs, tucked just out of sight. Rosa hadn't even realized it was there.

"And this," Mary said, stepping aside so Rosa could see, "must have been Master Cameron and Lady Elspeth's room before she died."

Like the others, everything was covered in a layer of dust, but this one hadn't been pilfered of furnishings. Beside the large bed canopied with crumbling velvet curtains, was a dresser, chair, nightstand and wash bowl. Someone had left a night-rail on the dresser. It was moth-eaten and Rosa guessed a single touch might turn the fabric to dust. It was as if the moment Elspeth had died, the room had been locked up. Under all the suffocating dust and sadness she could almost smell lingering perfume.

Mary stepped forward, obviously intending to give the room a once over but Rosa held up a hand. "Wait." Footprints marred the dust, as thought someone had recently passed this way.

They were large, probably a man's, and they seemed to lead right up to the fireplace, before turning back towards the door.

"Master Cameron?" Mary suggested.

"But what was he looking for?" It was then Rosa caught sight of the life-sized portrait hanging above the cold fireplace.

It was of a beautifully tall and slim woman, with a mysterious glimmer shining in her blue eyes. Her long white-blond hair was pinned back in a simple bun but a few strands had broken free to frame her face. And she was smiling down at the room with unreserved happiness.

Judging by the dated gown she wore, the portrait had been painted more than ten years ago.

Rosa's heart skipped a beat and, she felt the blood rush from her face.

The resemblance was striking. Identical in almost every way. Amelia.

There was no gap between this lady's two front teeth, and she was obviously older, maybe going on one and thirty, but everything else...it was incredible. They could have been doppelgängers.

"Lady Elspeth McWilliam." Mary broke the silence.

"You mean that's Cameron's wife?"

She nodded. "Beautiful. Everyone used to say that she was a true Georgian beauty."

Rosa pressed her eyes closed and then opened them again. Lady Elspeth was, without a doubt, Amelia's double.

"I don't think Master Cameron could believe his luck when Elspeth proposed to him. The story goes that she was sick of waiting for him to ask, so she stepped up." Mary rested a hand on Rosa's shoulder, a frown creasing her brow. "Are you all right? You're very pale."

Rosa tapped her forehead. Elspeth was Amelia. Cameron's long-dead wife. Rhona was expecting, and Rodd was dead after killing Duncan. The answer was on the tip of her tongue and all her instincts were shouting at her that it all had something to do with Amelia's resemblance to Elspeth.

Amelia and Elspeth.

But nobody could know that. Rosa was the only one on this entire estate who knew Amelia. Aside from her kidnapper.

"I'm think I'm going to lie down for a while," she murmured. "I'm more tired than I realized."

Elspeth and Amelia.

"Did you need a hand back up the stairs?" Mary sounded genuinely concerned.

"No." Rosa brushed her off. "Thank you."

Amelia and Emily.

She tripped up the stairs, her clumsy feet reflecting her confusion. All this time, Rosa believed she'd been framed for the theft because her father or uncle had a vengeful enemy somewhere that she hadn't known about. Never had she considered that she'd been framed purely because of her connection to Amelia.

Where was her cousin? Was she safe? Who had her?

Rosa hadn't seen Amelia since Emily's death four years ago. She'd been headstrong, selfish, and even contemptuous as a fourteen year old, but now she must be eighteen. Who knew what type of woman she'd grown into.

"Rosa? Rosa!"

She froze halfway up the stairs between the second and third floor. Ahead, just out of sight, she could hear Cameron calling for her.

Her heart started beating painfully in her chest. Did he know Amelia looked just like his dead wife?

"Rosa!" He sounded desperate, and then there was a bang as though he'd hit the chamber door.

She hadn't locked the door to her own chamber, so he must know McWilliam had left her in his chamber. She gripped the key in a sweaty palm.

With her heart