Bewitching the Knight: (A Medieval Time Travel Romance)

by Diane Darcy

  “She dinna get anointed,” a man accused.

  “She’s had no prayers!” A young girl sobbed aloud.

  “Nae absolution,” said a lady. “Nae communion.”

  As the mutterings and complaints continued, Samantha approached Beth and looked down at her face. She looked peaceful, younger in death than in life. And slightly blue. She turned to Tori, standing closest to her mother. “What were her symptoms?”

  “Symptoms?”

  “Was she sick? Did anyone see her die?”

  Tori’s brows furrowed. “I worked wi’ her all day. In the gardens, in the hall, cleaning rooms. She was fine.”

  “I came upon her in the upstairs hall.” Janetta sat on a nearby chair, listless. She pressed a handkerchief to her face. “It looked as if she’d been cleaning. She was already...gone.”

  Samantha turned to Tori. “May I?”

  Tori looked confused, but stepped back.

  Samantha hoped she wasn’t being disrespectful, but she lifted one of Beth’s eyelids. The eye was dilated and very bloodshot.

  “What are you doing?” Tori demanded.

  “Checking to see if your mother was murdered.”

  “Murdered?” Tori blanched.

  Samantha returned to her task, and checked the other eye. She sighed and, feeling sick, turned to face Ian.

  His eyes sharpened on her face, but he didn’t say anything. He simply waited.

  Samantha nodded. “Her eyes are dilated and bloodshot. It’s hard to tell in this light, but her skin looks slightly blue. Suffocation, or the poisons cyanide or deadly nightshade could cause these symptoms.”

  Silence echoed through the vast room and Ian, pale now, looked as sick as she felt. He drew near, cupped her elbows in his big, warm hands. “Could a weak heart cause the same?”

  Samantha shook her head. “Not the bloodshot eyes. It looks like murder.”

  “Murder!” Tori, gripping her arms tight around her body, burst into tears.

  Everyone started talking at once, and the anger in the room was palpable.

  Samantha’s throat tightened. Beth had been such a nice person and now she was gone. Snuffed out on the whim of a despicable, cold-hearted fiend. It wasn’t fair. She looked across the room at Ian and her jaw clenched. She was smart. So was Ian. This couldn’t continue.

  A glance down at Beth’s face had tears flooding Samantha’s eyes. They should have tried harder, sooner. If they didn’t find the murderer, then Ian would be next and she could not let that happen. She would find that poisoner so Ian could live a long and full life after she was gone. She couldn’t bear the thought of him dead. All his hopes, dreams, plans—just gone.

  Was she messing with history? She couldn’t care less. This wonderful man shouldn’t have to die because some idiot decided to poison him.

  They had to figure out who’d murdered Beth, and they’d better find out soon. Before the killer struck again. She glanced around as she realized the murderer was most likely in the hall, right now, listening to Samantha and cursing her for casting doubts.

  With the attention now firmly on the monster, with everyone watching, the murderer would no doubt be keen to retaliate, lash out...at her, and at Ian.

  They needed to stick together.

  Chapter Twenty

  Ian spotted Brecken coming into the room, still wearing a cloak, his cheeks reddened from travel. He glanced around the room, confusion evident on his face. “What happens here?”

  Tori’s head jerked up, she spied him, sobbed harder, and wove through the crowd to throw herself against the young man who opened his arms and held her close. “What happens here?” he repeated, more softly.

  Ian expelled a breath. “’Tis Beth. She’s been murdered.”

  Brecken gaped as the crowd parted for him to see Beth laid out on the table. “Nay.” He gripped Tori tighter. “How? Why?”

  A man, dressed unmistakably in priest’s tunic and hooded cap, entered the room and stood beside Brecken, his curious gaze taking everything in.

  Ian’s lips parted. He’d just been considering easing his stance and perhaps borrowing a priest from Laird Grenock while he decided his feelings on the matter. So the man of God appearing out of nowhere was startling to say the least. “What is he doing here?”

  Brecken thrust his chin forward as he held Tori protectively. “I’m keeping him. We are all keeping him. I brought him for other reasons, but,” he took a breath, “it looks as if Beth needs him right now.” He glanced about. “Mayhap we all do.”

  Ian stared at the priest until the man shifted uncomfortably. The cleric finally spotted Beth and his mouth parted. “Oh. Oh, dear me.”

  Ian studied the man. If he weren’t wearing priest’s garb, he might seem pleasant enough; concerned and caring—if Ian was any judge of character. If the man proved otherwise, Ian could deal with him later.

  Turning in Brecken’s arms, Tori let out a sob. “Please, Laird. Please let him in.”

  Ian turned his gaze to Tori to see the devastation brimming in her eyes. He bade the priest come near and everyone in the hall seemed to exhale.

  The priest approached Beth and began praying over her as he removed a garment from his pouch and slipped it over his tunic. Next he donned a stole and placed it over his shoulders. Lastly he pulled out a large cross, and a waterskin, presumably filled with holy water. Each person in the room watched his every move. Ian had to admit the man seemed competent, and, since that was exactly what his clan needed at the moment, he allowed the proceedings.

  Tori looked to the priest with expectancy and hope, then back at Brecken, adoration...and love...in her gaze.

  Ian quietly left the room, walked up the stairs, and down the hallway. Once in his chamber he pressed his fingers into his forehead, breathed out slowly, and tried to gather his thoughts.

  ~~~

  A few minutes later, after painstakingly making her way out of the crowded hall, Samantha followed Ian and, hoping he went upstairs rather than outside, started climbing—only to stop near the top when she heard voices in the hallway above.

  “Where did this priest come from?” Janetta sounded shocked

  “I brought him from Stirling,” Brecken said.

  Samantha stopped, unsure whether to continue or not. She didn’t want to break in on a private conversation, but she didn’t want to get caught skulking on the stairs either.

  “And he’ll be going right back again?”

  Samantha crept up one more stair, hesitated.

  “He’s staying.” Brecken’s answer was firm.

  “Ye’ll not be marrying that girl from pity.”

  “Nae, I won’t,” Brecken’s voice was irritated. “But I shall marry her for love.”

  “Love?” Janetta scoffed the word.

  “Yes, Mother, love. Tori will need me more than ever now. And I plan to be there for her.”

  “You can do better than a servant girl.” Frustration seared Janetta’s voice.

  “I’ll not listen to this. Not wi’ Beth dead on the table downstairs.”

  Yikes. Samantha standing frozen on the stair, was relieved when their voices headed in the opposite direction, toward the family rooms and ladies solar. She’d feel sorry for Brecken—after all, in this time period parent’s opinions held a lot of sway when choosing a spouse—except she knew it worked out for the young couple.

  When their voices faded completely, Samantha finally headed to Ian’s room. She found him standing alone, looking out the window, bracing one arm against the stone and leaning his head against his forearm. The picture of dejection.

  Her heart ached for him and she didn’t even stop to think, she just surged forward and hugged him from behind. “You can’t blame yourself,” she said. “This is all on the murderer.”

  Ian’s forehead rocked back and forth against his arm as he shook his head. “I should have figured this out by now.” He reared back and slapped his palm against the stone, forcing her to step away. “Who is doing this?
Why?”

  Samantha wondered if Willie had been around. He’d be her number one suspect. But then, she was the only one he was after, so she didn’t say anything. Why couldn’t there have been a footnote in the history books telling about Beth’s death, or Ian’s? Some hint that marked someone as the murderer. But there hadn’t been. She, of all people, would definitely have known.

  All she could do at this point was give Ian her support. Between the two of them, they should be able to think of something. “I’ll help you. We’ll figure out who killed Beth, together. We’ll stop this fiend, I promise.”

  “Count me in.”

  They both turned to see Brecken in the doorway, a look of determination on his face.

  ~~~

  Brecken left the room only to return minutes later with two chairs from the women’s solar. He set them in the middle of the room, dragged one more from against the wall, and bolted the door. “First the attempts on Ian, and now Beth is dead. We have to find the murderer.” He gestured Samantha into a chair, and Ian couldn’t help but feel a spurt of admiration for the lad’s determination.

  Ian joined them, sinking onto the third chair. “Agreed.”

  No one said anything for a moment and Samantha finally spoke. “Let’s talk about opportunity. Ian and I are above suspicion as we weren’t here when Beth died. But what about you, Brecken? You disappeared on us. Where were you?”

  Brecken didn’t look worried or surprised by the accusation. Another point in the lad’s favor. “Acquiring the priest. I had to convince him to come. He’s been wi’ me for two days straight and even slept in my tent wi’ me. I’m sure he’ll vouch for my whereabouts.” He glanced down and his lips tightened, twisted, and his chin wobbled. “Anyhow, I love Beth. I’d never have harmed her. Not ever. Come to that, I’d not ever hurt any woman.”

  Samantha looked away, probably to give Brecken privacy to get his emotions under control. “What about the attacks on Ian, though? You’ve had plenty of opportunity to try and kill him. And as you’d be laird after he’s gone, don’t you think that’s reason enough?”

  Brecken sat forward. “I dinna care about that! I’m no murderer.”

  Ian dug his fingers into his temples. He appreciated what she was trying to do, but this wasn’t getting them anywhere. “I already gave him the chance to kill me and he didna take it. In fact, he tried to save my life instead.”

  Brecken’s mouth fell open. He closed it and nodded. “Campbell’s raid was a test?”

  “It was. You do have the most to gain.”

  Brecken laughed without humor. “I suppose I’d be dead and buried had I made an attempt that night.”

  “Aye.”

  Brecken threw out a hand. “There, then. Even Himself knows I mean him no harm.”

  Samantha lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t really think so, but I did have to ask. Okay. What other motivations could there be? Who could want both Beth and Ian dead?”

  All three of them remained silent. Ian sighed. He’d thought this through a hundred times before.

  “What about the crown?” she asked. “Who could know you have it?”

  “Everyone, now,” Ian said.

  Brecken nodded. “I’ve no doubt it’s been the main topic of conversation since we left for Stirling.”

  Ian carefully avoided glancing at its current hiding place. Samantha already knew of the spot, but he saw no need to advertise its present whereabouts.

  Samantha rolled her eyes. “Well, yes, now people have been talking. But before Laird Campbell announced it to all and sundry, who knew?”

  “Until you?” Ian lifted a shoulder. “No one.”

  Brecken shrugged. “I’d never heard of it.”

  “Dugald?” Samantha asked.

  Ian shook his head. This was a waste of time. “I never told him.”

  Samantha’s eyes narrowed. “But he could have searched—”

  “Not Dugald. Anyhow, he was with us when Beth was murdered.”

  They were silent again.

  Samantha sighed. “Maybe Beth found out something and had to be silenced?”

  Brecken nodded. “Aye. She knew everythin’ what happened in the castle. But if she saw something?”

  “She was found in the hallway?” Samantha looked between the two of them. “Could that be important? Have any special significance?”

  Ian shrugged. “Everyone has access to the upstairs.”

  Brecken nodded. “Agreed.”

  “Janetta?”

  Ian considered his motherly aunt and shook his head. “Nay. She’d not have it in her.”

  “Quinn?”

  He and Brecken shook their heads again.

  “Tori?” Samantha asked.

  This time the men didn’t even think about it. “Nay,” Ian said. “She adored her mother.”

  Brecken agreed.

  They discussed the servants with direct access to food. Wondered if Reed, who’d lost his arm in battle, could feel resentment toward Ian. Considered the possibility of an unknown assailant, or assailants. Campbells intent on revenge? They’d have been noted. They deemed innocent the peculiar girl from the kitchens who spoke overmuch and bounded about in an irritating manner. Other servants? Guards? Any feelings or impressions they’d had about specific people? Samantha even brought up Willie, but the man hadn’t been seen inside the keep itself in months.

  Finally Samantha sighed. “I see why you haven’t figured it out yet.”

  Ian nodded slowly. “I’ve been round and round this before.”

  Samantha leaned back in her chair. “We need a new idea. A different way of looking at this thing. What if we set another trap? It helped eliminate Brecken as a suspect, right?”

  “A trap?” Brecken asked.

  Ian stared at her, then slowly straightened in his chair. “Aye. That’s not a bad notion. ’Tis time to try somethin’ new.”

  Samantha and Brecken both looked at him, expectation evident in their faces.

  He smiled, reached for Samantha’s hand, and pressed a kiss to her skin. Never taking his gaze from her he asked, “Are ye much of a player?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Samantha stood beside Ian as he unlocked the chapel doors, hoping to offer both moral support and comfort. Also, there was nowhere else she’d rather be than beside him.

  With an air of relief and liberation, the servants rushed inside to clean.

  About fifteen minutes later Beth was respectfully carried past them into the chapel by two of Ian’s guards while Tori followed slowly behind her deceased mother, the priest holding her hand, Brecken directly behind. As Tori walked by, Ian placed a hand on her shoulder, said a few words, and stepped back to let others follow.

  Samantha couldn’t help the tears springing to her eyes. It was just so sad. So pointless and cruel. Everyone loved Beth.

  They waited in respectful silence as Beth was laid out on a table before the altar, and, after a few minutes, the priest turned and excused everyone until morning. The crowd slowly dispersed, heading into dinner. Side by side, Samantha and Ian returned to the keep.

  Butterflies suddenly took up residence in Samantha’s stomach. She was a lot of things, but she’d never been much of a performer, hence her boss hiring her to take classes to better improve the way she came across to others. The plan Ian had come up with seemed like a good one, but she just hoped she wasn’t the one to mess it up with her lousy acting skills. At least she had a small role.

  At the head table, Samantha sank down onto the bench next to Ian’s chair and glanced around. They were some of the first to arrive, and the maids, some of them sniffling, were setting up the last few tables and getting ready for a late supper. Bread and butter was brought out to the solemn assembly.

  Samantha and Ian didn’t talk as the hall began filling with clan members. In fact, they barely looked at each other as Tori came in with Brecken and the priest to take their seats. Brecken’s expression of grim anger was new to his face. He glanced around at the
other tables as if trying to discern for himself who the murderer was.

  Samantha turned to see Ian glaring at the priest, but it was still a surprise when he spoke harshly. “So, priest man, tell me, have ye robbed anyone lately? Had anyone killed for your pleasure? Stolen from the poor?”

  Even though she knew he was to start a fight, Samantha was shocked at both his target and his rudeness.

  The priest merely smiled at Ian. “You may call me Father William. And, nae, I have not robbed, killed, nor stolen from anyone of late. What of you? Is there aught you wish to confess?”

  Nervous as she was, Samantha hid her smile in her napkin while Ian glared at the priest.

  “Ignore him.” Brecken glared at Ian. “He is out of sorts. ’Tis hard to believe anyone here, our clan, our family, could have aught to do wi’ Beth’s death.”

  Ian’s lips twisted. “Try living at court for any amount of time and ye’ll cease being surprised by what others are capable of.” Ian handed Samantha a slice of bread, but she couldn’t eat it as her stomach was twisted in knots. She prayed she wouldn’t give them all away. She glanced at Ian. He was cool as the proverbial cucumber, spreading butter on bread and reaching for jam.

  The tables filled up fast, and it was a very gloomy crowd. Everyone liked Beth.

  Janetta sat next to Ian, across from Samantha. She’d obviously been crying. Samantha wished she was better with people and comfort. And acting, for that matter.

  Ian whistled for a dog—Samantha’s cue.

  She swallowed and watched as he threw the mutt a piece of the bread. Her throat clenched, but she forced his name out regardless. “Ian.”. She could only hope that her strangled voice was attributed to grief and not stage fright. “Ian,” she said again, this time louder. “Please don’t do that. It’s not nice to feed the dogs food that could be poisoned.”