Winning the Highlander's Heart

by Terry Spear

  Chapter Fifteen

  Anice only went as far as the entrance to her chambers, then as soon as the ladies stepped into the room, she turned and hurried back toward the stairs.

  “Milady!” Nola said, chasing after her, with the other women gaining ground.

  “I have business I must take care of. One of you may come with me, but nay more.”

  “You cannot go to the dungeon after Laird MacNeill told you to wait for him in your chamber,” Nola warned.

  Anice wondered if Nola had been too long under the influence of Mai. “I have nay intention of going to the dungeon. ‘Tis a dank, dark, horrifying place.” She shuddered. Though she wished to speak to the cook, she knew it was best left to men this time, but she wasn’t about to give up the investigation to them. With everyone so preoccupied, she’d investigate elsewhere.

  “With the baron’s men here, you cannot have just one lady with ye. ‘Tis too dangerous, kenning Fontenot wants you for his own,” Nola said.

  “Aye, two ladies then.”

  “Where are you off to, milady?”

  Anice stopped at the bottom of the steps. “Mary and Venetia, return to my chamber and prepare it as his laird has asked. Morrigan and Nola, you come with me, but if you do not be quiet and you get in the way, I will send you to my chamber also.”

  The two women nodded, wide-eyed. She knew they’d rather join her on her adventure and find out what she was up to. Though Nola was too much like Mai, and might try to stop her, she had the heart of a feral cat, courageous and curious. But Venetia was too sweet to deal with matters as grave as this. Mary would have been fine, but Anice really wanted to do the investigation alone. Too many she feared would scare any away who might confess something to her. Morrigan would watch her back without a word of complaint and do a fine business of it. The lady would have made a braw warrior had she been born a man.

  Anice continued to the kitchen and when she reached there, she found the kitchen staff sitting at the long table, eating leftovers from the meal. Everyone hurried to rise.

  She motioned for them to take their seats, then she spoke to the head cook. “Tell me, Robina, what was said during the meal when the girl was found to have poisoned my uncle.”

  The robust woman paled. “Milady, the girl was not hired by me.”

  “Nay, I ken that,” Anice hurried to reassure her. The middle-aged woman had sneaked honeyed cakes to Anice when she was a wee lass, well, even when she was older. Robina would never have harmed her uncle. “The cook was hired by our steward, Laird MacKnight, true?”

  “Aye, milady.”

  Anice stared at the floor. She’d never considered that possibility. She had assumed Laird MacKnight was in on the killing of Laird Thompson. Then she’d thought mayhap both he and her chamberlain, Laird Iverson, were all murdered by the baron’s men. If the steward had hired the girl, had he been in on the plot all along? Easily, he would have wanted Laird Thompson dead. He’d always hated him. Had he been angry with her uncle for not discharging the man? When the baron schemed this plan to get rid of her uncle to have her and the properties for his own, did Laird MacKnight greedily go along with it so that he could keep his place as steward?

  What of his wife? Did he conveniently dispose of her, too? Anice had never heard him have an ill word with his wife though.

  She looked at the cook. “What was said to the girl?”

  “Gavin MacNair, who was serving ye and His Lairdship, asked who prepared the meals for His Lairdship. He said Laird MacNeill was extremely pleased with the fine quality of the food’s presentation and wanted to thank whoever it was properly with a gift of coin.”

  The woman glowered at one of the male cooks, then turned back to Anice. “Any would have been tempted to say they had prepared the meal to win extra wages and praise from his lairdship. Froman said he had prepared the meal, at which time I knocked him upside the head for lying and pointed to Gertunia. Why would she no’ speak up for herself, I wondered. Anytime the laird of the manor praises a servant’s work is naught to be ashamed of. She paled as if she were going to faint and her eyes grew as round as my cakes. MacNair dashed for her before she bolted into the kitchen garden. I had nay idea what the matter was. In fact, none of us did. We thought the young man had gone quite mad.”

  The cook took a deep breath. “The MacNair’s face was ten times redder than I have ever seen it when he yanked the girl back into the kitchen. Here we still had to get the next course of the meal out to ye, and we were frozen by what was taking place.”

  “You did a fine job. None of us knew what was happening.”

  “Thank ye, milady. I made everyone continue with their work as the squire pinned Gertunia to the floor and asked her who paid her to poison your uncle, milady. That brought us all to a dead halt. Froman took his knife and approached the girl, threatening to cut off her ears if she didna tell.”

  Froman gave a satisfied look and folded his arms.

  “Your uncle very much liked us and rewarded us verra well. So Froman was pretty hot that this slip of a girl might have killed your uncle.”

  Anice nodded, trying to keep the tears in abeyance.

  “She confessed. The wicked thing.”

  “Who paid her?”

  “She said she did not ken. That a man had given her the money.”

  Anice groaned, wondering how many more of her staff were involved in the hideous crimes against her uncle and the other courtiers. “One of our staff?” she asked, her voice shaky, hating to hear that it was so.

  “Aye, it had to be. There were nay others here at the time visiting.”

  “Had she tried to poison Laird MacNeill this verra eve?”

  “Aye, she was paid again, this time to murder him. Only MacNair must have worried one of the cooks had poisoned your uncle and would do the same thing to the new laird of the manor.”

  Anice held onto the table.

  Froman jumped up and offered her his seat.

  She shook her head and tried to settle her queasy stomach, straightening her back. “Did she give any description of the man?”

  “Nay, milady, but the men will get it out of her.”

  Anice didn’t even want to envision what that would entail. She’d seen a murderer beaten half to death when the villagers were trying to get a confession out of him before her uncle condemned him to death. For a year, she’d had nightmares over it. ‘Twas a horrible thing and she knew the men would not be gentle when getting the truth out of the woman who helped to murder the laird they’d served and loved.

  “Do any of you remember a man speaking to this girl at any time that seemed odd, out of place?”

  Froman spoke, “No’ before as I am certain she was paid when none of us were aware she had poisoned your uncle, but a man approached her before we began the evening meal. I dinna think a whole lot of it because she is young and bonny and some of the men...” He stopped speaking as his cheeks grew red. “Well, beg your pardon for speaking so frankly—”

  “These times warrant the truth and every bit of it. Continue.”

  “Some of the lads oft visit three of the ladies here, so I dinna think it verra odd.”

  Anice glanced at the ladies who all blushed. “Except?”

  “That Gertunia was not one of them. She has kept to herself the whole time she has been here. Like she was scared to death of all of us. We have never mistreated her and are like a family. Before preparations of the evening meal, the squire came to her, and they disappeared into the kitchen garden. Cook was going to beat her if she left her duties just when we needed her, when here she planned a quick roll in the hay, beg your pardon, milady, with the man. She suddenly burst into the kitchen, naught amiss with her gowns or veils and we assumed he had wanted her and she said nay. But now it seems he told her to poison His Lairdship.”

  Anice asked through clenched teeth, her anger bubbling hot in her veins. “You ken the man’s name?”

  Anice both dreaded and longed to know who the man was who p
aid to have the girl kill her uncle. How could any of her staff have done anything so hideous?

  “Firth MacKnight,” the cook said.

  “Laird MacKnight’s nephew?” Her throat grew dry. Who else on her staff was related to the laird? Would his nephew have had a hand in murdering his own aunt as well?

  “Aye, milady,” Froman said, his voice shaky as if he worried the laird’s nephew would get him next once he learned the cook had told on him.

  Anice swallowed hard. “Thank ye. Laird MacNeill did indeed enjoy the meal. Who was so thoughtful to prepare the double portions for us?”

  Froman grinned. “I did, milady. When Gavin MacNair said you were with child, I wanted to make sure you and the bairn had plenty to eat.”

  Anice opened her mouth to speak, felt her face heat, then the warmth spread all the way to her toes. She remembered Gavin had mentioned such a thing to them at the meal, but now the notion truly hit her. Her ladies’ eyes widened. The cooks, too, seemed to wait with great expectancy for her to say more about her condition. “Thank ye, kindly, Froman, Robina. Please eat your meals.”

  She hurried out of the room with her ladies. She would get the truth out of MacKnight’s nephew before her husband found out what she was up to and stopped her.

  “Milady, are you truly with child?” Nola asked.

  “Of course no’. We only just got married for heaven’s sakes. Gavin MacNair only said so to avoid the cooks becoming suspicious of why Laird MacNeill wouldna eat his own food.”

  “But you could be with child,” Morrigan said. “They say it can happen even if you have only made love once.”

  Anice shook her head. “I am no’ with child.” She hastened outside of the keep and targeted the wooden barracks that housed both her men and the baron’s for now.

  “Milady, you must get the men to deal with the MacKnight,” Nola attempted to appeal to her like Mai would have done.

  “And he will be thrown in the dungeon, if he hasna already escaped,” Anice said. “Then I will not have a chance to know what is going on.” Forging ahead, she would not be deterred by her ladies or anyone else.

  As soon as she approached the entryway to the barracks, one of her men rushed out to greet her. “Lady MacNeill. You shouldna be here. Half the men are in a state of undress while they prepare for bed.”

  “Eanruig, I come for Firth MacKnight. If he is here still, send him out to speak to me,” she demanded, her tone caustic. She would not be thwarted.

  Eanruig narrowed his gray eyes disapprovingly, his black bushy brows furrowed, his black hair shaggy about his shoulders. A man who excelled on the battlefield and with the ladies in bed, she’d heard tell. “Does Laird MacNeill know you are here?”

  She hesitated, then she succeeded in doing what she did best, took the matter into her own hands and stormed past him into the barracks. She would have none of her staff barring her investigation just because she had a husband who would disapprove of her actions. Her ladies followed her inside and instantly Nora gasped and Morrigan giggled. Anice felt the blush return to her cheeks when the naked men covered their exposed privates. “I wish to speak to Firth MacKnight about his poor uncle. At once.”

  “Aye, milady,” Thomas said, who wore his tunic resting mid thigh and a grin. “I will get him for ye.”

  When she turned to see what had happened to Eanruig, she was surprised to find he wasn’t behind her. She hurried outside and saw him entering the keep. Damnation. He’d tell Malcolm.

  She stepped back inside. “Thomas, I apologize for inconveniencing ye, but would you stay with me while I talk to the young man?”

  “Aye, milady.” He hurried to the end of the barracks and spoke to a man already buried in his blankets.

  “Come on, lad, Lady Anice herself is here to see ye.”

  The blond sat up on the straw cot half dazed.

  “Firth MacKnight,” Thomas said, raising his voice to stir him. “Hurry. Dinna tarry any longer. Her Ladyship is waiting on ye.”

  The man was twenty and was the son Laird MacKnight hadn’t had. Some day he would have had his uncle’s title, but not now. How could he have done such a thing? Mayhap to get in good with the new laird, but Baron Fontenot would never be his laird.

  He scrambled out of bed. “What does she want with me?” he whispered, but his words echoed off the walls as the other men watched to see what happened next.

  “She has news of your poor uncle.”

  “My uncle?” He sounded confused, his voice not as deep as a man’s yet. Was he in league with his uncle or not? Aye, he had to be if he paid the girl in the kitchen.

  “You best get dressed. The lady is waiting for you at the end of the barracks.”

  He turned to see her standing at the entryway and she swore he looked like he was going to faint.

  Though she should have moved outside with her ladies, she dared not in case the man bolted. But if she told them what her purpose was in coming there, they wouldn’t have allowed her to talk to him. Instead, they would have turned him over to Laird MacNeill and again she wouldn’t find out what had happened.

  When he had dressed, he walked toward her like a man who would soon be beheaded, which would soon be his fate. But not before he indicted those who had bribed him to do this evil deed. His defeated posture instantly condemned him.

  She commended him for not running like she thought he would, though. Did he think what he had done had been for everyone’s benefit? Or only he and his uncle’s? But why had Lady MacKnight also been murdered?

  When they stood outside, MacTavish, the captain of the guard joined them, but soon, six more men drifted outside, four of hers, and two of the baron’s. She said to the baron’s men, “This is a private matter betwixt my people and me. You will have to leave.”

  The two stalked in the direction of the keep, not back to the barracks. Now the baron would be told his plans were quickly crumbling.

  “Stop those men!” Anice shouted. Four of her men raced after them, forcing them to turn back, while the baron’s men loudly protested.

  MacTavish said, “Milady, what is this all about?” Already her men seemed worried something terrible was the matter, and she was certain they figured they’d better turn the matter over to Laird MacNeil.

  “I do not wish the baron to learn we have this young man in custody.”

  “But the lad serves you nay the…” Seeing the exasperation on her face, MacTavish ordered the four men, “Stay with them in the barracks.” He grabbed Firth MacKnight’s arm. “Why do we have the young man in custody, milady?”

  She said to MacKnight, “Who paid you to poison my uncle?”

  MacTavish looked at MacKnight with disbelief.

  “I did not poison your uncle, milady, you must believe that.”

  “You paid the kitchen maid to do it, I ken. But who gave you the money to pay her?”

  MacTavish cleared his throat, his eyes hard, though she was certain he was angry at the man and not her. “Milady, Laird MacNeill should be taking care of this matter, if Laird MacKnight’s nephew has done something so heinous.”

  She ignored him, wanting to question MacKnight as much as possible before her husband stopped her. “Who, MacKnight?”

  “My uncle.”

  She let out her breath, knowing the truth of the matter even before his nephew revealed it. “Did you do it willingly?”

  The man looked at the ground.

  Through clenched teeth, she asked again, “Did ye?”

  “Aye, milady.”

  Her head spun with frustration. Why would any on her staff have killed her good-hearted uncle? “Where is Laird MacKnight?”

  He shrugged. “I dinna ken. Mayhap in the village.”

  “And Laird Iverson?”

  “Dead.” The squire’s tone was wooden, his brown eyes dull.

  Her heart quickened at the news. She’d prayed her chamberlain hadn’t been guilty of any crime and would still be alive. “Who killed him?”

  “
My uncle.”

  “By whose authority?”

  “He is a powerful man and will marry ye whether you want it or no’.”

  “Baron Fontenot.”

  “The Norman lairds will rule this land, and we might as well get used to it. The sooner we ally with them the better off those of us will be who recognize it and be in good stead with Robert Curthose.”

  The two MacKnights were the damnable rebels in their midst, siding with her Edgar Atheling and Robert Curthose! God’s teeth, if Henry found out and thought the rest of her people were in league with his rebellious brother…

  “Lady MacNeill!” Malcolm’s voice was deep and threatening.

  She attempted to ignore him, but her skin grew clammy, and she spoke more quickly. “Why was Laird Iverson murdered?”

  “He discovered that my uncle killed Laird Thompson.”

  “And Lady MacKnight? Your aunt? Why her?”

  Firth MacKnight glared at her. “She wouldn’t go along with his plans. But no’ only that he had a verra agreeable mistress, and she was all for whatever he intended.”

  What else did she and her uncle not know about their staff? “Who was his mistress?”

  The sound of Malcolm’s rapid footsteps and the others drew closer, yet she persisted, her heart thundering with urgency. “Who?”

  The squire looked down at the ground, then up at Anice. “The marshal’s daughter.”

  She wanted to scream. “Was the marshal also involved?”

  “Nay.”

  Thank God for small miracles. She couldn’t bear it if one more of her higher staff members were involved in this deadly mess.

  “Did his daughter know that your uncle was going to kill his wife?”

  “Aye, that she did. She helped make the poison.”

  The dreadful girl made her own bed and would lay in it for all eternity. Anice didn’t pity her for what would happen to her one wee bit.

  “Lady MacNeill!”

  She whipped around to see Malcolm stalking toward her with his brother, Dougald, Eanruig--the man who had told on her--and four more of her men. Malcolm’s dark brows were furrowed, and she knew he was about to hang her with the rest of the vermin who’d committed the crimes.