Circle of Honor

by Carol Umberger

  Such foolishness. Crawling under the covers, she admonished herself. She wouldn’t remain in Scotland long enough to help him. Best to remember who she was and that Edward awaited her once she regained her freedom.

  A SINGLE TAPER lit the narrow passageway where Leod leaned against the wall. The damp, ripe odor of decaying refuse assailed his nose. Not the most appropriate location for a tryst, but then the tryst had not been . . . appropriate.

  He grinned despite the smell and moved toward cleaner air and away from the woman’s sobs. By the time he reached the top of the dungeon’s stairs, his own breathing and the scurrying of rats were the only sounds.

  His men-at-arms had easily overcome the man Adam had sent to guard the woman and had dragged her from her pallet and down the steep stairs, into the dark room where he waited.

  The Mackintosh fool’s honorable behavior had cost this woman dearly. No matter that she was only a servant; highland folk did not take kindly to the despoiling of any woman, and the laws were very explicit. Leod would take advantage of the legal means now open to him to have Adam killed.

  He sneered as he conjured up a vision of the outrage he would feign. He, the powerful and just, would vow to find the man who dared to commit such a crime under his very roof. And he knew just whom to blame.

  As long as the woman cooperated. And she would, for in the morning he would tell her he had arrested the rapist. She couldn’t know for sure who had attacked her, and he would promise to free her after she accused Adam. He would make perfectly clear the price she’d pay if she failed to name Adam as the rapist or dared to accuse Leod, the rightful laird of Clan Chattan. Aye, fate had indeed been kind, and his resolve hardened. By this time tomorrow, with Leod’s rival dead, justice would be restored.

  Leadership of Clan Chattan would be his.

  THREE

  Thou shall not bear false witness.

  But only a lie will save me!

  g WENYTH PRAYED FOR DELIVERANCE, but God seemed very far away. She raised a trembling hand to her mouth and winced when her salty finger touched the split in her lip. Aye, God had finally deserted her for good. Last night, amidst darkness and terror, someone had assaulted her. The windowless cell she’d been dragged to was pitch dark, but the man hadn’t needed any light to find and take what he came for.

  Even now, in the light of day, she shivered at the memory of his beard brushing across her bared skin. A bearded face was the only thing she knew for certain about her assailant, aside from his brutality. She wrapped her arms across her chest, in an effort to still her quaking, for it disturbed her bruised ribs.

  False witness.

  She lifted her gaze to the tall, clean-shaven man who stood on the other side of a table placed between them. Adam Mackintosh. How could it have been him? Even in her current state of confusion, she was certain her assailant wore a full beard, not the day-old stubble on Adam’s face. See how the sun had kissed his cheeks and chin with color. That was proof, wasn’t it?

  And why would the gentle man who’d seen her safely to her pallet return later and accost her? She shoved the painful memories aside. Somehow she must see this through, find Daron, and leave her accursed homeland for Edward and safety.

  Her gaze locked with Adam’s, and she marveled at his arrogant stance. Gone was the kindhearted man of yesternight. He seemed to dare her to go forward with this deceit. He could not know that the lie that would condemn him would deliver Gwenyth and her kinsman from further danger.

  The priest, her judge, stared hard at her. “Gwenyth of Buchan, you must identify the man who wronged you.”

  Another lie, this name she’d given. If she revealed her proper name, or even that she belonged to the Badenoch side of the family, she might very well leave here in chains. This Leod who’d captured her thought her to be a servant, for that was the story she and Daron had concocted to aid their escape. Now their web of deceit threatened to ensnare yet another soul. Was Adam an enemy or a possible ally?

  Foolish question. Daron was her only true friend. And yet Adam’s kindness had held promise of shelter, of gentleness. His smile could not have hidden a brutal nature, could it? Gwenyth no longer trusted her own judgment. She would be safer to believe she had no allies here in this keep.

  And only a distant, unresponsive God to call upon. He’d deserted her the night her father had been killed. This feeling of separation from God tormented her nearly as much as her physical pains, but she didn’t know how or if she could ever bridge the chasm. And last night had only pushed him farther away.

  In increasing despair, she forced herself to look at Leod Macpherson. He’d been so solicitous and kind this morning, but more than a hint of evil clung to him. Despite his promise to free her, she would not entrust her life to him just yet. She asked him, “Why do you accuse this man?”

  With barely concealed impatience, Leod responded, “I’ve told you. This is the man who raped you, woman.”

  She winced at the sound of that ugly word spoken before this gathering of men. If only she could hide her battered body somewhere safe until she healed. Not just her body, but also that inner fragment that even now screamed in outrage and anguish. It took every bit of courage she could muster to harness her emotions. Swallowing her humiliation, she asked, “Aye, so you have said. But what evidence have you?”

  “Everyone saw you leave the hall with him, lass. ’Tis obvious that when you didn’t give to him freely, he took what he wanted.” His dark gaze bored into her, reminding her of their agreement. “Now all we need is your accusation.”

  Despite Leod’s black glare, she refused to comply until she was sure. She asked Adam Mackintosh, “Are you truly laird?”

  The blond warrior leaned across the crude wooden table that stood between them. “Aye, that I am. Lord of Clan Mackintosh and soon to be captain of the Chattan federation of clans.”

  Gwenyth backed away from the man’s overbearing presence. Laird. Her assailant had said the word like a litany all through . . . Laird.

  Adam was laird.

  Leod shoved the man back from the table, then moved around it to stand next to her. She flinched when he gripped her arm in a gesture meant to intimidate, not console. She was beyond consolation, but her temperament did not easily bow to intimidation. And she would not give way to her emotions or the cry of her body to retreat, collapse, until she was safe. Nor would she accuse Adam or anyone else unless she was sure of his guilt. She fought to focus on all that was transpiring about her.

  Leod’s silky voice sickened her. “Mackintosh and Macpherson are united under one chieftain, Angus Mackintosh.”

  “Aye, that’s true, as far as it goes.” Adam turned to her, his earlier arrogance displaced by obvious distress. “My father is gravely ill, and I am his successor.”

  Confused, unsure who to believe, she sought answers to the questions crowding her mind. “So you are acting in your father’s place?”

  “Aye.”

  She turned to Leod. “And you are not laird.”

  A feral gleam came into Leod’s eyes. “Nay, I am not. Come, Gwenyth, just name the man and be done with it. All these questions change nothing.”

  She was being used as a pawn in some deadly game between these two men. Why else would Leod Macpherson dare to accuse his laird’s son and heir? Suddenly Gwenyth’s faith in Macpherson’s promise of freedom plummeted.

  She was being asked to condemn a man she believed to be innocent, most likely to further Leod’s ambition to lead his clan. How could she trust Leod if he showed so little loyalty to his laird? What if she kept her part of the bargain and accused the Mackintosh man, and Leod broke his word to her?

  In vain she tried to remember something, anything, about her assailant. But the beard remained her only clue. Many men in the hall wore beards, including Leod. Which of them had it been last night? Who among them was capable of such cruelty? She couldn’t even be certain which of them had dragged her to the dungeon.

  Gwenyth panicked as dawnin
g awareness of her future gripped her. Leod would not release her, would not help Daron as he’d offered. She would be forced into an unholy relationship that would send her to purgatory. And her stay in hell would begin while she yet lived.

  She cried out in pain and fear as Leod grabbed her arm and pulled her to his side.

  His voice was harsh and low enough for her ears only; his hand crushed her flesh. “We have an agreement, Gwenyth. I will help you and your cousin find passage to England, and you will name this man as a rapist and choose the punishment we agreed on. Is that not so?”

  His rough treatment brought pain to her ribs and tears to her eyes. Enough. She could not take any more of this impossible situation.

  “Aye,” she whispered at last, feeling faint.

  He hauled her back to stand before Adam. Desperately she prayed that God might still be near, might guide her decision. Lives were at stake—hers, Daron’s, and that of the Mackintosh man. A man who had shown her nothing but kindness. Now that he knew of her ordeal, would Adam still treat her tenderly? Would any man? Had she lost not only her innocence, but the hope of a husband’s love? Edward. Edward would still love her, wouldn’t he?

  False witness.

  Her gaze riveted on Adam Mackintosh, and she saw that he held his left arm stiffly, protectively close to his body. A man with only one good arm was at a definite disadvantage in a fight, yet Adam showed no fear or even anger. Indeed, the lines in his face bespoke a man who laughed often and well. But not today. Today she found his visage hard, his gaze frosty, which did nothing to encourage her in choosing a course of action.

  “My lady.” The cleric’s voice took on a note of impatience, no doubt inspired by Leod’s deepening scowl.

  The fair-haired laird dropped his gaze to the table before them, and Gwenyth did likewise. There the judge had laid a small piece of rope fashioned into a hangman’s loop, and a ceremonial sword. And next to them lay her own dead mother’s wedding ring, taken from Gwenyth’s finger before the trial began. No doubt Leod would have preferred not to give her that third choice, but he could not openly circumvent the law without drawing suspicion.

  These are my choices.

  The significance of the items displayed there couldn’t have escaped Adam. Which would he prefer—death, or marriage to a ruined liar and enemy of his king?

  Aye, both Leod and Adam were her enemies and could not be trusted. She’d already taken Leod’s measure and found him lacking. What of Adam Mackintosh? Once again she looked into his eyes. What kind of man was he? Would she be safer with him? Had his kindness last night been genuine? There were no answers in those icy depths.

  Only two things she knew for certain—she would die herself before she would condemn an innocent man. And she would never be safe in Leod Macpherson’s keep.

  She looked once again at Leod and caught her breath. Pinned to his left shoulder was the brooch that held his plaid. Her assailant had collapsed heavily upon her, leaving a peculiar bruise. A bruise that matched the shape of Leod’s pin.

  Her gaze shot to the brooch on Mackintosh’s shoulder to find an encircled rampant cat. Until she knew if Leod’s pin was unique, she couldn’t be positive that he was guilty. But she could be absolutely certain that Adam Mackintosh was not.

  Should she accuse Leod? No. If she were foolish enough to do that, Adam might be allowed to leave, but she would not. Leod had made that point very clear.

  She released her breath, saying a silent thanks for what must surely be a sign. Perhaps God was watching over her after all. For the first time, she felt as if she had some control over her situation. Putting her trust in heaven and Adam Mackintosh, she pressed forward.

  God forgive me for this lie.

  With a prayer for the strength to see this through, she answered the judge’s question. Her voice quavered as she said, “ ’Twas Adam Mackintosh who raped me.”

  “The woman is lying!” Adam’s shout sounded harsh, cold.

  The judge cleared his throat. “The woman has been examined by our physician, and I assure you, she tells the truth.”

  Gwenyth cringed, remembering the humiliation of the examination. She nearly strangled on the sob caught in her throat at the reminder she was ruined—no man would want her for a wife now.

  Perhaps the Mackintosh man saw her discomfort, for although he continued to stare, his voice was less strident. “She may have been ill used, but ’twas not by me, and she knows it.”

  Despite Adam’s protest, the judge pronounced him guilty, and Gwenyth wondered if Leod had included the man in his wicked plot.

  Indeed, the judge looked nervous as he said, “Lady Gwenyth, you have the right to choose his punishment.”

  Glancing at Leod, she was momentarily terrified by his menacing glare. No doubt he expected a servant to be easily intimidated. Well, she was not a servant; she would not lose heart or all would be lost.

  The Mackintosh man’s stare bored through her as well. Silently she beseeched him to trust her. She must leave this keep and find a way to ensure Daron’s safety. And Adam would live. He might hate her, but he would not die because of her.

  “Get on with it, Gwenyth,” Leod exploded. “What will it be— a hanging or a beheading?” Belatedly he added, “Or a wedding?”

  The priest hurriedly left the hall, as if afraid to be further tainted by such proceedings.

  For a moment, fear and comprehension registered on Adam’s face, but he quickly regained control. Gwenyth considered the ramifications of thwarting Leod’s plan. She doubted that her choice would change anyone’s opinion of the Mackintosh laird— others would believe what they wished in regard to his guilt or innocence. Indeed, even if they thought him guilty and she chose to marry him, they would consider it just punishment.

  Leod, on the other hand, would profit no matter what, for she realized that, should anyone discover her identity, her marriage to Adam might well weaken his rule as captain of the Chattan federation. Marriage or death. There was really only one choice.

  “I choose the ring,” she declared, watching Adam for a reaction. She saw his shoulders slump momentarily in relief, but his expression remained glacial. Still, Gwenyth knew she’d made the only possible decision, although she doubted he would thank her for it.

  In her preoccupation with Adam, Gwenyth failed to notice Leod closing in upon her. “Nay, you impertinent wench.” His face contorted in rage and he tried to hit her.

  Adam stepped between them, deflecting the blow and pushing Leod away. “Leave the woman be. Judging from that bruise on her face, it would appear she’s already sampled your hospitality, Leod. And it appears she didn’t care for it.”

  “So she runs to a cripple for protection.”

  Adam’s jaw tightened, but he said only, “Well, I’ll not fault her loyalties just now, Leod. She at least is wise enough to see she can’t expect much in the way of loyalty from you.”

  “The council still must approve you as captain, Adam.”

  “Which they will do, and well you know it. Tell me, why did you not simply knife me in my sleep? Or put poison in my food? ’Twould have been much less chancy than depending on the whims of a woman.”

  “Obviously I thought her suitably subdued.” Leod’s evil sneer repulsed Gwenyth. “I’ll consider your methods next time.”

  Clearly, a challenge had been issued and accepted. How would she ever find the safety she craved in such a place as this?

  Leod glared at her, but his words were for Adam. “Your wife-to-be is damaged goods, Adam.”

  “You sound overly familiar with the proceedings, Leod. Perhaps you were a witness.” Adam’s voice had an edge as sharp as a Damascene sword.

  “Nay, my laird. One only has to look at her to see she’s been well initiated.”

  Gwenyth had had enough of Leod and his odious behavior. She must leave this place. She tugged at Adam’s arm to get his attention, realizing too late it was the injured arm. She heard Adam’s intake of breath, and she quickly let go.
Despite his pain, pain she had caused him, he nudged her to stand in front of him. Now she faced Leod, with Adam’s strength to bolster her.

  Adam said, “Release my men, Leod. They have been noticeably absent during this mockery of a trial.”

  Leod turned to a man-at-arms. “Release the Mackintosh men. Then send that miserable excuse for a priest back in here.”

  “We don’t need a priest.”

  Gwenyth’s knees threatened to buckle.

  Leod smirked. “Judgment has been pronounced. You can’t escape punishment, Adam. Would you prefer to have the priest administer last rites instead of the sacrament of marriage?”

  Gwenyth swallowed. Had she obeyed Leod, the priest would have shriven Adam and possibly her, as well.

  “I’ve no doubt you were planning on my death, Leod. It was a brilliant plan, all very legal, but luckily the lady has discerning tastes. Still, there’s no need for a priest.”

  No need? Gwenyth’s head spun. He must be daft—surely he didn’t prefer death to marrying her? Gwenyth turned to him and laid her hand on his sleeve. “We must have a priest to—”

  “Enough.” He brushed her hand away. The blue of his eyes turned more frigid than a highland blizzard. “I’ll not make the honest vows of the church with a deceitful woman.” He glared at her, again daring her to react.

  “But the lie saved your life,” she whispered.

  His gaze gentled, but his voice remained cold. “Aye, so it did. And I’m mindful of it, lass. But I’ll not enter into a binding marriage founded in dishonesty.”

  Lord help me when he learns the full measure of my deceit. She cast a fearful glance at Leod, who watched her closely. She reminded herself that Leod stood to gain, no matter how this turned out. She returned her gaze to the Mackintosh warrior, silently pleading with him to cooperate.

  Whether he read her entreaty or merely played a role himself, she didn’t know, for his next words startled her.