by Terry Spear
“A maid had to pack some of my things, and so Jane would have realized I was leaving.”
“Aye.”
“But she cared about the knights. Her father is one.”
“He was not tasked to go with you. If he had been, would things have turned out differently? I do not know. But she is the one who tended to Sir Travon when he was so ill, making much more of a fuss over him than Sir Edward, who was in a bad way for several days.”
Feeling sick to her stomach, Isobel couldn’t believe it. “When Jane learned my father was alive, how did she react?”
“She was not happy about it like everyone else was. I had been watching her for her reaction, already suspecting her complicity.”
“But there is more to what you suspect, is there not?”
“Aye. I was concerned that Sir Travon could not go with you. At first, I suspected he had poisoned himself so it looked as though he had accidentally eaten something that had disagreed with him. But he was so adamant about going after you, that we had to keep a guard posted at all times. Then I questioned Cook and her staff about the food that morning. No one had gotten sick. Sir Travon said he had not eaten anything other than what everyone else had to break their fast. He was talking to Sir Edward concerning where they were going that morn in the great hall, and Sir Edward could not tell him. But Jane was seated on the other side of Sir Travon.”
“She knows very well what can aid a man’s digestion and what can make him sick.” Isobel still could not believe the woman could have been so calculating and aid in the killing of their knights. “When…when you came here and Sir Travon accompanied you—”
“She was not happy. But this time, he did not sit beside her when we broke our fast.”
“And he did not get sick.”
“Nay.” Lord Wynfield squeezed her hand.
“You have questioned her?”
“Aye, but she swears she had naught to do with it. That she knows naught.”
“What does Sir Travon believe?”
“That she poisoned him, but he does not believe she did so for any other reason than ensuring he did not go with your escort. She would not say so, but I believe she thought with you leaving, she would have a better chance to encourage a relationship with Sir Travon. But she needed him to remain behind. She seemed as distraught as anyone did when we learned your escort had been massacred. It is the only thing that has saved her from a hanging.”
Isobel bit her lip. “Then who is the traitor?”
“I believe he had something to do with both Laird McEwan’s attack and the slaughter of your escort,” Lord Wynfield said.
“Aye. We both think so, too. Most likely my suitor had already planned to have his men in place no matter how late it was before Marcus left. But he departed much earlier than they had planned because Father only decided to send him away right before you were given word, aye?”
“True.” Lord Wynfield shifted his attention to Marcus. “Did you notice anyone following you when you left?”
“Aye, half a dozen servants and a couple more of the guards, curious as to what was going on,” Marcus said.
“You said that Cantrell brought the news to you that night at the celebration. What was he doing that he would have learned of it?” she asked Lord Wynfield, trying to get a clearer picture in her mind.
Lord Wynfield’s lips parted, but he didn’t say anything.
“You did not ask him?”
“Nay. As soon as I learned Laird McEwan had been attacked, I organized a search party. Cantrell said he was not armed, well, with a dirk, but the man he saw had a sword and was on horseback. Cantrell could not have fought him. He made haste to reach the castle and give me the news, though he said he feared the laird had died. By the time we reached the location, we found one dead man, and Laird McEwan was nowhere in sight. Our men continued to search the dark for him. I returned to the keep to inform Lord Pembroke.”
“What would Cantrell have been doing out in the dark of night in the very same area as—wait! If he said only one man had attacked Marcus, he lied! Three men had attacked him. And if he saw one, he had to have seen all three. The two that Marcus managed to kill before the third man cut him across the back.”
“Why would he help your suitor to kill me, then report the battle to Lord Wynfield?” Marcus asked, sounding puzzled.
Isobel chewed on her lip and pondered that. “What if he did not want to report the trouble to Lord Wynfield, as much as he had to let whoever my suitor was know the deed was done? Only he thought you had died. He left after the man cut you on the back. He had to have watched you leave and you probably were having a time of it, aye?”
“Aye. I wasna sure I would make it across the border to the tavern. I could verra well have died before I ever made it there. Why would he side with your suitor in this matter?” Marcus asked, rubbing her back.
“He will do anything for money, even get word to your people to come for me so I could travel across the border to see you when you were wounded. It appears that he has no loyalty to anyone—only greed.”
“When I return, I will make sure he is detained and questioned—thoroughly,” Lord Wynfield said, and she knew he didn’t mean to treat the matter lightly.
Footfalls stalked toward the chamber and Finbar appeared. “Marcus, a word with you, please.”
“Aye, cousin.” Marcus squeezed Isobel’s shoulder with reassurance. “What is the trouble now?”
“Lady Isobel’s cousin, John, is here with his men. I know I should have spoken to you first before I took action, but I assumed you would want them inside where we could take them prisoner as soon as you gave word.”
Isobel’s jaw dropped. Yet she should have realized her cousin would still want some satisfaction concerning her since he would not know her father lived. John would still think he was the earl and was in charge of her father’s property and come here straight away once the Clan Chattan released him.
“You have done well.” Marcus rubbed her shoulder in a manner meant to soothe her. She wanted to kill John herself for attempting to murder her father, and nearly succeeding.
“We allowed them into the great hall. He wishes to negotiate with you over Isobel and her dowry, since you have unlawfully absconded with her. He will seek King Henry’s help in the matter, he says, if you do not come to terms,” Finbar said very seriously, then smiled a little evilly.
“He does, does he?” Marcus said, darkly, his whole body stiffening beside her. “Have you disarmed his men?”
“Aye.”
“Lady wife, do you wish to stay with Lord Wynfield?” Marcus asked and she appreciated that he would.
“Aye.” She still held the baron’s hand, not wanting to leave his side should his condition worsen.
“Do not kill him,” Lord Wynfield said. “Lord Pembroke will want to decide his fate.”
“Aye, I wouldna think of it.” Marcus turned to Finbar. “What about the men I had sent to speak with Tibold about John’s complicity in trying to murder Lord Pembroke?”
“They met John and his men on their way here. They didna tell him his uncle lived nor that they knew John had attempted to kill him. They could do naught else but escort them here as though John and his men were their honored guests as they numbered twenty and our men only five.”
“Tibold must have realized we would reach Lochaven well before this, which is why he released them. We would have arrived sooner if we hadna had the trouble with Laren’s men.”
“Aye.”
Marcus looked down again at Isobel. “I will return soon.”
“I will be here.”
He leaned down and kissed her cheek, and then said to Rob, “Will you stay with Lady Isobel and Lord Wynfield?”
“As you wish.”
Marcus headed out of the chamber with Finbar and Gunnolf. “Who is with John and his men?”
“Ten armed guards, in addition to Angus, Niall, and our Chattan cousins. They will see to it that neither John nor
his men get out of hand. Good news, aye?” Finbar asked.
“The best. I worried that when our men reached Rondover Castle, John and his men would have left already. I really hadna believed he would come here after he had to know we would have our forces behind us.”
“He is an arrogant bastard, certain his threatening you with King Henry’s involvement would make you capitulate in any manner he wishes. Mayhap to say he will now allow you to wed the lass with his blessing if you would make some concession,” Gunnolf said.
“Like agree to give up the dowry,” Marcus said.
“Ja.”
Marcus and the others stalked into the great hall where his servants had hastily set up trestle tables and were offering food and drink to John and his men, which made it look like they were honored guests, despite the lateness of the hour.
His blue eyes narrowed, John smiled darkly when he saw Marcus, not bothering to rise in his presence, notwithstanding that this was Marcus’s keep and John was not an earl.
“To what do we owe this pleasure?” Marcus asked.
John motioned to the chair beside him, but Marcus remained standing. John took a swig of ale, the cheese and bread at his table half eaten already. “You know I have King Henry’s ear and—”
“Which of Lady Isobel’s suitors killed the knights serving as her escort?”
John stared at him for a moment as if he was stunned at the direction this was going. “I know naught of what happened with regard to the men who killed her escort.”
“One survived.”
John was still holding the tankard of ale in his hand, but he set it down on the table. “Then you should question him.”
“We did. He said you killed Lord Pembroke.” Marcus knew that wasn’t so, but he wasn’t about to reveal that Lord Pembroke himself had identified John as his attacker.
John’s face drained of all color. If he’d been angry at a wrongful accusation, he would have grown red-faced, but instead, the man suddenly looked as though he knew he’d been caught.
John’s dark brow furrowed. “The man lied.”
“What do you think will happen to you if King Henry learns you murdered one of his most loyal lords? Who on countless occasions has brought peace to the region?”
“I had naught to do with my uncle’s death.”
“Witnesses say otherwise. Who is the man behind the killing of the lady’s escort?”
“I had naught to do with it. And certainly not anything to do with my uncle’s murder. But I have heard rumors that Lord Fenton was behind it all.” John didn’t look so arrogant now. More like he was squirming to find someone else to offer up to save his own neck.
The best way to do that? Give enough of the truth that could be verified, while digging his own way out of the grave.
“Lord Fenton.” Marcus had certainly considered the man as suspect, but then thought he couldn’t be the one as he was no longer a suitor. But if he agreed to some terms with John, maybe the game had changed.
“Aye. I heard he hired some men to get rid of you, in truth. He was angry when not only had you survived, Lord Pembroke denied him the chance to court my cousin,” John said. “So he must have murdered him in outrage. He…he must have murdered my uncle,” John repeated, then rubbed his chin as if giving the matter some thought. “Then figuring he would be found out, he did not pursue marrying Isobel. He must…he must have assumed I would become the next earl and because the way had been cleared for me, he should be able to wed Isobel if I agreed. Aye, that has to be it. Not that he has asked this of me. When I return, he will probably do so. But then that fool, Lord Wynfield, sent her south to stay with King Henry’s court and Lord Fenton must have feared he would lose Isobel in that way so he had her escort murdered. Except that did not go as planned either because then there you were.”
“So you told him you would, what? Give Isobel to him for some concession if Lord Pembroke suddenly—died? Would he have wanted her for her dowry? What would he do for you? You had to have wanted something out of the deal.”
John rose from his chair and growled, “I told you I had nothing to do with any of it. I will send a missive to King Henry at once to tell him what I suspect.”
“And that is?”
“That Lord Fenton hired the three men to kill you.”
Soft footfalls caught Marcus’s attention and he turned to see his lovely wife entering the great hall. John’s men finally stood. Marcus’s men and his cousins all stood ready to fight John’s men if they thought to cause any trouble.
“The word was that only one man tried to kill Marcus,” Isobel said, joining him.
He took her hand in his and her fingers were ice cold. He held them tight, loving his dear lass.
“When I asked Lord Wynfield why he had told me only one man had attacked Marcus, he said that was all they had found. One dead man. How did you know there were three? Only Marcus and the man who paid those men to attack him knew,” Isobel said.
“And my cousin, who had located them and discovered they had been paid handsomely for the task,” Marcus said. “Which means whosoever paid them must have gone back for the money when he learned I had not died. And moved most of the men, but was unable to hide the last one before Lord Pembroke’s people discovered the dead man.”
John clamped his lips tight.
“Why could you not have waited for my father to give you the title? Were you afraid he would learn you could not be trusted? And that you would never earn the title?”
“See? That is exactly why I had naught to do with your father’s murder. I would have earned the title in due time,” John said.
“Aye, but you could not risk that he would not give it to you. And you did not want to wait, either. You say Lord Fenton had my escort murdered because he did not want me to leave the area. Because he wanted you to offer me in marriage to him?”
“You allow a woman to speak on your behalf?” John asked Marcus.
Marcus bowed his head to him. “She is doing a fine job of questioning you.”
“Why did you come after me at Rondover Castle? Had you promised me to Lord Fenton, and if you did not return me, then what? He would reveal the truth that you had murdered my father?”
“I will not repeat again that I had naught to do with any of it. You were brought here against my consent. That is why I followed you here. If you so choose to live with this…man, then so be it. I see there is no talking you out of this misfortune. We will be on our way.”
“Your horses and your men need to rest,” Marcus said. “We have the perfect place for you and your men.” To his guards, he said, “Take them below.”
John pulled a dirk from his boot. “You have no right—”
“For the attempted murder of Lord Pembroke, your uncle, Laird McEwan has every right,” Isobel said. “Lord Wynfield is with us now as he brought us the news that my father lives. And that you are the one who tried to murder him, unsuccessfully. He and the other knight who lived are witnesses to the attempted murder.”
Her hand tightened around Marcus’s, and he unsheathed his sword and pointed it at John. “You will drop your dirk. Now.”
Chapter 20
Two months had passed and yet it seemed like only days since Marcus had escorted Isobel to her new home at Lochaven Castle. Now, she sat in their new bath built for two, savoring the hot water and her even hotter Highland husband. “We make the servants work twice as hard,” she told Marcus as he ran a wet cloth over her back and she adored him for it.
“They talk twice as much about their lovely mistress and how delighted she makes their laird, and that makes them happy.” He smiled, lifted her suddenly out of the tub, and carried her to the fire where he set her on her feet, then began to dry her off.
She cherished how he was always eager to make love to her. All she had to do was smile at him and he’d take a break from sword practice with his men, overseeing repairs to the curtain walls, or other non-urgent issues. He always had a moment for her.
Not that she didn’t reciprocate. If he came into the kitchen when she was talking to Cook about the next meal, or showing the ladies a new sewing technique, she would stop what she was doing and go away with him. Which was why all the betting was going on concerning an announcement of when their first bairn was due.
It was still dark out, the candles and the fire providing a soft light as she turned to dry him next. She’d been amused at how everyone seemed to know just when she and Marcus disappeared into their chamber for some more intimate time. She couldn’t believe her father was finally coming to see her and bringing Mary. Then they’d have the wedding and a feast. Lord Wynfield was staying on at Lochaven until that happened, stating that it was his duty to still watch over Isobel until her father actually gave her away.
She assumed some of his reluctance to leave was because he was walking with a cane and riding was still giving him some difficulty, though he was getting better. Still, he probably only wanted to make one trip home, and not have to return again so soon, vowing to stay to see her married no matter what. She loved him for it.
“Marcus,” she said, running the cloth over him. “I do not want you to change the way you are with me.”
He lifted her face and frowned at her. “What ails you, lass? Your da’s arrival? Mary’s? Why would I treat you any differently?”
She smiled and moved the cloth lower to stroke his staff. “I would not want us to stop this.”
He laughed, lifted her in his arms, and carried her to the bed. She tossed the damp cloth to the floor and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Why would I ever want to stop making love to my bonny lass? There isna any chance of that.”
She just smiled as he set her on the bed, then he lowered his body next to hers. He ran his hand over her breast, and she tried hard not to let on how sore they were. She knew she was carrying a bairn, but she was afraid if she told him, he’d stop making love to her. Her belly was still flat, though even she could see it was starting to grow just a wee bit. She loved the changes in her body to accommodate the bairn growing inside her. She’d been careful not to let on to any of the maids who served her. She knew when Mary was here, she’d suspect right away.
