The Chieftain's Choice (The Wolf Deceivers Series Book 1)

by Elaine Manders

  The spoon Alana held clattered to the floor as a chill ran up her spine. Surely not. “Did your father and brothers eat the stew?”

  The perception that gave her the reputation of being fey told her the truth. She retrieved the spoon, noticing the fine hairs of her arms stood on end.

  “I doona think so. We were all sick when they got home.” Lorrie sobbed into her apron, and Alana took the girl into her arms.

  “I ken how badly you must miss them.” She rocked the girl to and fro, trying to block the horrible possibilities from filling her mind.

  Lorrie looked up at her with reddened eyes. “I doona believe yer a witch, but if ye are, doona make any of the others get sick.”

  How could Alana guarantee that? Every sickness that took one of the people now would be blamed on her, and if Vanora brought more stew—

  The door suddenly slammed open, followed by a sharp intake of breath. A gray-haired woman stood on the threshold, her bosom heaving. “What are you doing here?”

  Lorrie jumped out of Alana’s arms. “I dinna think she’s a witch.”

  “Go unload the wagon, Lorrie, and see to the horse.” The woman waited for the girl to move past her and go into the yard. “I’m Mrs. Kilgarney, Lady Carmichael. You shouldna be here.”

  “Why not?”

  “I mean no disrespect, m’lady, but you’re not welcome here.”

  “What happened to the lamb stew Vanora brought to Mrs. Frasier?”

  Mrs. Kilgarney turned pale, and Alana was certain she’d have fallen if she hadna been holding onto the door. She recovered quickly. “I threw it out, m’lady. I feared it had spoiled and caused the sickness. Tis a long way from Gilmour Hall and the day was warm. The stew might easily have spoiled.”

  “Did you tell the physician, or did you just let people assume I’d brought a plague on them?”

  Mrs. Kilgarney glanced to the outside and lowered her voice. “I had no occasion to speak to the physician. You must leave at once. Doona ye ken? Men will die because of you. You’re in danger here.”

  The expression in the woman’s eyes told Alana she wasn’t jesting. She swept past Mrs. Kilgarney without another word and went straight to where Orion was pawing the ground.

  A numbness settled over her as she climbed into the saddle and turned toward home.

  Please God, doona let it be so.

  Vanora was selfish and deceitful, but she wouldn’t deliberately poison that good woman and those innocent babes. For what purpose except to convince them Alana was a witch who’d brought on a plague?

  The steady clip-clop of the horse’s hooves steadied her nerves, and she looked around to see two lads hiding behind the trees. As she passed them, she felt something hit her in the back.

  Not a rock. Not that hard.

  She twisted her head to see and smelled the clump on her shoulder. Horse dung. She pulled out the piece of cloth from the bottom of her pocket and wiped the stuff off as best she could.

  Vanora was behind it. She’d poisoned those innocent people so Alana would be blamed, so Vanora could spread her tales of Alana being a witch who would bring ill favor to the clans. For so flimsy an excuse as that, she’d murder a woman and two children.

  It was the stew that had killed them, Alana was certain. Mrs. Kilgarney was right. Gavin couldna ignore this insult to his wife.

  Men would die.

  Alana did something she rarely ever did. She spurred Orion into a gallop to put as much distance between her and the crofters as she could. She would have to tell Gavin. If there was one thing certain about a killer, it was that she would kill again.

  Over and over, Lorrie’s words beat in her brain. “I only ate a little. It dinna taste good. I only ate a little. It dinna taste good.” Lorrie, the only child who’d survived.

  How could she tell Gavin what Vanora had done without letting him know the crofters had insulted his wife? He’d be angry with her for going to see the Frasiers. Mayhap she could keep that from him. At least they now knew what they were up against. He would have to do something about Vanora, and the sooner the better.

  It wasn’t until she rode into the yard at Stonecrest that she realized she’d not asked Mrs. Kilgarney the question she’d gone to see her about. Was Mrs. Kilgarney present at her birth and was Hester McWayre her mother? But if the clan people believed she was a witch and had brought on a plague, did it really matter?

  Chapter 13

  Soft dirt flew up from the horses hooves as Gavin rode through the dales past Loch Muir. Eleven hardy men followed, a small number, but they were fully armed and able to fight. Even Christ had only eleven men He could truly trust, and Gavin could trust these eleven. He’d convinced them they had a common enemy in the highwaymen who’d plagued the countryside.

  The thieves might be sent out by someone from Gilmour Hall, but he didn’t tell these men his suspicions. They were apathetic to the Carmichael and Gilmour feuds, and the truth would come out soon enough.

  They rode through the little village of Carman situated between the Carmichael and Gilmour boundaries. The people came out to stare respectfully, some of the ladies curtsying, some of the men touching a forelock as the troop passed by.

  At the end of the cobbled street, Gavin sent the men on to Stonecrest. He’d sent a message requesting Lyulf meet him at the village tavern and was certain he’d seen the man in the crowd of villagers.

  Gavin chose the tavern, knowing Elspeth wouldn’t enter such a place. Had it been possible, she’d accompany Lyulf, and the last thing Gavin wanted was a confrontation with Elspeth. If Lyulf were a normal man, he wouldn’t have told Elspeth, but Lyulf wasn’t normal, being hated by the clan and without any authority.

  As Gavin turned the corner of the blacksmith’s building, he caught sight of Lyulf, arms crossed, standing by the tavern’s entrance doors. With some trepidation, Gavin urged his stallion forward. Just because Lyulf came, it didn’t follow he’d be conciliatory.

  But he might provide useful information.

  Lyulf sported the dress of a lord today, in the kilt and colors of Gilmour—velvet doublet and enough silver to dare anyone question his position. Silver buttons, silver mounted sporran, and silver badge pinned to his bonnet. He apprised Gavin through slit, pale blue eyes.

  Gavin held the door open for him. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

  “I came early. We have much to talk about.” Lyulf’s tone was as bold as his attire.

  “Agreed.” Gavin beckoned a serving maid and led the way to the most secluded table, although few people were about at this early hour.

  The men had hardly seated themselves before the maid plopped two mugs on the table and scurried to answer another customer.

  Lyulf’s glance fell to his ale as he hunched over the mug. “Sir Angus will preside over the assizes. Do you object?”

  Gavin had reason to object. Sir Angus was Elspeth’s father, Vanora’s grandfather, but Gavin trusted the man. “No, but I’m glad you mentioned the assizes. I intend to present charges of my own.” He might as well get the most contentious matters settled first.

  Lyulf’s head shot up. “Against whom?” A nervous tick twitched in his jaw.

  “The Kerrs. I believe they’re responsible for the highway robberies.”

  “What proof do you have?” He lifted his mug with both hands. “If that were true, would they still live in squalor?”

  “The three oldest are rarely at home. They may be enjoying their booty elsewhere.”

  “The older brothers work the mines, but if they had booty they’d surely provide for their mother. She depends on harlotry to survive.”

  Gavin couldn’t argue with that. Essa Kerr had been a harlot since her husband’s death, and that was another issue that must be dealt with. “Since we’re holding assizes, it’s time to bring her up on charges of harlotry. The clan women have complained about Essa for years. Why hasn’t Elspeth put her out before now? Why haven’t the whole bunch of them been expelled?”

&
nbsp; Lyulf was in the process of drinking his ale and almost choked on the brew. He set the mug down with a thud. “Elspeth feels sorry for the woman, and Vanora favors the youngest lad. She grew up with him.”

  Gavin gave him a sharp look. Matt Kerr was a handsome rake. Lyulf didn’t have to explain why Vanora favored the young man. He mulled over his words as he drank his ale. “Matt’s the reason I connected the highwaymen who robbed me at McWayre to the Kerrs. They were disguised, but one of them had a stature and mannerism that reminded me of Matt.”

  “I don’t think you’d be able to convince a jury.” Lyulf started to rise. “Is that all?”

  Gavin couldn’t let him get away without going to the heart of the matter. “I want you to forbid Vanora to step foot on Carmichael property. She’s causing unrest among my crofters and spreading lies about my wife.”

  Lyulf sank back onto the chair. “You don’t have to concern yourself with that. Vanora is going to London. Miriam Tynsdale will sponsor her at court. Lady Tynsdale is a lady-in-waiting.”

  “Miriam? The one who—”

  “The same, Torquil’s mistress. She made her way to London after his death and met with acclaim for helping put down another Scots feud. Lord Tynsdale was so taken with her, he married her.”

  “And Elspeth agrees for that woman to sponsor Vanora?” Miriam had caused her sister-in-law’s murder, but evidently that didn’t weigh as much as court influence.

  Lyulf shrugged. “She’s happy Vanora is given the opportunity.”

  And doubtless both Elspeth and Lyulf were happy to be rid of Vanora. “Is Vanora agreeable?”

  “Why not? There’s nothing for her here.”

  Indeed, why not? Rory was in London. Vanora wouldn’t waste any time tracking him down. It was time to call Rory home.

  Both men rose in unison. “Thank you for coming, but you may be assured we’ll continue investigating the Kerrs.” Gavin dropped a coin on the table to pay for the drinks.

  Outside the tavern, Lyulf left without a glance, no doubt in a hurry to report all to Elspeth.

  Gavin mounted, ready to give the horse his head when a squat man ran up with hands waving over his head. Tunbull, one of the crofters who served as the village’s constable. The man blew for some moments trying to catch his breath.

  “Lord Carmichael, tis glad I am to find you here. Your gamekeeper, Nye was just found murdered—strangled to death.

  ***

  Gavin forced the stallion into a thundering gallop. Nye’s death was enough to call the Carmichael crofters to battle, regardless of their affection for Vanora or their memories of Robert Gilmour.

  Stonecrest loomed ahead.

  Despite the urgency of a murder, Gavin’s mind flooded with thoughts of Alana. He’d missed her more than he’d thought possible. Just her presence had changed his life. After this trouble was put to rest, as it must be soon, they’d have peace, and he could concentrate on his wife.

  This time next year they’d be living as a married couple should with a child, maybe another on the way. Without Father likely, but with his grandchild tottering along the halls of Stonecrest.

  And without Vanora. She was leaving for London, perhaps already gone. The malicious gossip about Alana being a witch would die a natural death without Vanora stirring the flames.

  Gavin rode into the courtyard where frost had yet to burn off the hedges. The eleven sent from the neighboring clans stood in a huddle. After handing the reins of his horse to the groom, Gavin joined them.

  “We heard about Nye’s murder,” Morgan, the ranking member of the group, said. “He was strangled with a strip of Gilmour plaid.”

  Gavin tried not to show his shock. He forestalled their questions and turned them over to the servants, promising a later meeting.

  The men sent hard glances among themselves. They expected more information no doubt, but at the moment Gavin only wanted to see his wife.

  As soon as he’d cleared the threshold, Alana rushed into the entrance hall as if she’d been waiting for him. “It’s glad I am you’ve returned early.” This was the way a homecoming should be. A pretty wife running to greet him.

  He met her halfway, kissing her on her smiling lips. “You’ve missed me? Is all well?” Despite the welcoming smile, he read anxiety in her eyes, and his heart sped.

  “Barthy is doing better, but all isna well. Who are those men?” Her features turned serious.

  She’d been watching from the window.

  With no way to reassure her and tell the truth at the same time, he drew in a breath. “They’re here to track down the highwaymen assaulting travelers and the thievery increasing among the crofts. And you may as well know…our gamekeeper has been murdered.”

  A hand flew to her cheek. “Another murder?”

  In the process of removing his travel-stained cloak, Gavin halted in mid-stride on his way to the cloak rack. “Another? Who else?”

  “I believe Vanora is responsible for killing Mrs. Frasier and her children.”

  He hooked the cloak on a knob and clenched his jaw. “Why would you say that?”

  “Lorrie, the oldest lass, said that Vanora brought them stew, and they sickened after eating it. Lorrie didn’t eat much, and she was the only one to survive. Mrs. Gauntry knew the stew was tainted.”

  It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Vanora capable of doing such a thing, but it surprised him anyone would tell Alana. “How did you come to find this out?”

  Alana dropped her gaze and pursed her lips. She kept something from him. He cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “If we are to defeat the enemy, we must trust each other, lass. Tell me all.”

  “I went to the Frasier croft yesterday.” When he frowned, she grabbed his arm. “I ken you forbade me to go there, and you can beat me for it later.”

  He had to laugh. Laying his arm over her shoulder, he eased her to the staircase. “You know I won’t beat you, though I may have to take you with me in the future if I can’t trust you to heed my warnings.”

  “This is nothing to jest about. You say another has been killed. Mayhap Vanora is responsible for that too.”

  “Nye was strangled. He’s as tall as I and has twice the girth. I can assure you, she didn’t kill him.”

  Alana crossed her arms over her chest. “She could have had it done.”

  “Why do you think Vanora poisoned the Frasiers?”

  “She wants to convince the people I’m a witch who causes plagues. It seems incredible she’d go to that extreme, but I ken she would.”

  Gavin let his head fall back. He’d hoped to save Alana from this. He huffed out a sigh. “I agree she’s evil enough for that, but according to Lyulf, Vanora is going to London. She won’t be able to cause any more plagues, and the talk of witches will cease.”

  Alana threw her hands apart, her eyes widening. “Going to London? You’re going to let her escape?”

  He thought more in terms of good riddance, but Alana was near hysteria, and he sought to calm her. “She isn’t going to escape anything, but even if she were charged with murder, she’d never be convicted. The jurors will be chosen from the crofters, and they think of her as their heroine. They wouldn’t believe her capable of such a heinous crime.”

  “So because the crofters are deluded, we should ignore what happened? Well, I kenna do that, Gavin. Everyone has always made allowance for Vanora, but I felt in my heart she was, and not in the harmless way, like Finella.” She clasped her hands together. “No one cared what I thought so I kept silent, but no more.

  “She murdered two—” Alana thrust two fingers in front of his face. “Two wee children, and I hate to think of how they suffered before they died, all on a madwoman’s whim. Now she’s to go to London. How are we to know she willna kill there? I’ve never heard any good of the English, but I wouldna wish to see their wee children murdered.” Her voice had risen to a screech.

  Gavin took her hands, pulling her closer. “Alana, try to contain yourself. Father will hea
r.”

  She snatched her hands away. “I doona want him to hear.” She lowered her voice to little more than a whisper, but her tone became even more menacing, like a growl. “But the rest of the world will hear, Gavin. No one would listen to me before, but I’m your wife, Countess of Stonecrest—or will be when you inherit—and I willna let this rest.”

  He raked his fingers through his hair, wondering how to control this new Alana. “When we hold the assizes, I promise to bring up the Frasier deaths. We’ll have Mrs. Kilgarney testify to what she knows, and that—”

  “Gavin, I’m sorry for my outburst.” She grabbed his hand as tears welled in her eyes. “But you dinna ken what it’s like to be called a witch.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “Neither will you again, dearest. I swear it.” He felt rather than heard the sobs racking her body.

  The lairds waited for explanations and direction, but at the moment his wife deserved attention. Gavin looked over her head to the ornate grandfather clock standing in the hall. Alana was his wife, the Countess of Stonecrest, and it was time the people accepted that.

  He kissed her forehead. “We have much to do, but prayers are needed first. The kirk service starts within an hour, and it will take that long for me to remove the grime of the journey.”

  Perplexity wrinkled her brow. “We’re going to the kirk?”

  “I told you we would. It is Sunday, isn’t it? Unless I miscounted a day.”

  “Nay, it is Sunday.” She grabbed the sides of her skirt. “Am I presentable?”

  Her tears ceased, and he smiled. If there was one thing to take a woman’s mind off her trouble, it was fashion.

  The unadorned mauve gown was simple, but she looked presentable to him. “It’s fine enough for our small kirk. Why don’t you call a dressmaker in and get her started on a new wardrobe?”

  “Mayhap Aunt Elspeth could suggest someone.”

  He started to object, but changed his mind. Elspeth would confirm whether or not Vanora had left for London. “I’m sure she could. Invite her to tea next week, but don’t go over there. I don’t want you anywhere near Gilmour Hall.”