Elen turned away in disgust. Rosalyn had as crude a sense of humor as any man—worse, perhaps.
Unfortunately, her sister's words rang true. Cerdic was the obvious first suspect, but probably too obvious. And Rosalyn was right about Cerdic not being of the constitution to try and kill a man to gain his inheritance. Cerdic just didn't strike her that way. Even if he wanted his brother dead, wanted the inheritance, he would not be bright enough or ballsy enough to try it.
Elen walked toward the door.
"Where are ye going?" Rosalyn jumped out of bed, dragging a woolen blanket behind her. "Why do ye think someone is trying to kill Munro?"
"My husband—I have come to the conclusion that these accidents that have befallen him of late are nae accidents." She met her sister's gaze. "The arrow that went through Rob's arm was no doubt meant for Munro's heart. The falling boulder, his fall down the steps in our cellars, and the boat accident last night. That boat was sabotaged. Munro wasnae meant to make it home."
Rosalyn screwed up her pretty face. "Well, all but the arrow took place on Dunblane land. Cerdic hasnae set foot upon Dunblane soil save for the king's visit. It must be someone here." She gave a little hint of a smile. "Dinnae tell me ye are trying to kill him and now are attempting to cover your tracks." She took a step closer. '"That is what he was bellowing about last night! He suspects ye." She went on, faster than before. "Alexi told me when he brought my tea that the master had already ridden out alone. Did ye send a man to do him in for good?"
Elen's hand ached to slap her sister. "How dare ye?" she spat. "Nae, I didnae send a man to kill my husband. I sent Finley and Donald to protect him."
"Ye... ye sent Finley... and Donald?"
Elen turned to go again. Talking to Rosalyn was a waste of time. She knew nothing. Cerdic had nothing to do with it. Which led her to her own keep—a thought that made her sick to her stomach. All of her clansmen were so loyal to her. Was someone thinking to save her from the fate of being married to the earl of Rancoff by killing him off? To all outward appearances, she still did not want Munro as a husband. No one knew the truth.
A lump rose in her throat. Not even Munro knew.
Rosalyn followed her, wrapping her blanket around her. "Why on God's green earth did ye do that?" she snapped.
Elen glanced over her shoulder. "Do what?"
"Send your steward and bailiff?"
"Because they are the men I trust most in my life... outside of my husband," she said softly. With that, she continued up the stairs to her own chamber.
In her room, Alexi was moving about, cleaning up and adding fuel to the fire. "I'll be out in a snap, m'lady," he said, trying to hurry.
Elen shook her head, trying to think. "It's all right, Alexi. Take your time." She walked to the window. If the person attempting to kill Munro was not her and not his brother, who else could it be? She mulled over each incident that could have ended tragically for Munro. The lone archer could have been anyone, because everyone at Rancoff and Dunblane had known Munro and other men were riding in search of the reavers. It could indeed have been an accident or one of the reavers and not at all related to the attempts on Munro's life. The same could be said for his fall down the steps and even the boulder falling, though that was suspicious now that she thought of it.
Then she recalled something Alexi had said to her the following day, something about being glad he had not been the one to bump the scaffolding and send the laird tumbling. She glanced at the lad.
"Alexi, ye were there at the wall the day Lord Rancoff took his tumble, were ye not?"
The lad bobbed his head. "I was mixin' mortar, I was."
"I heard someone accidentally hit the scaffolding. Do ye know who it was?"
"Everybody knowed it was someone. But the laird, he just said 'twas an accident and 'twas nay need to say who done it. He be a good a mon, that's what everyone says."
"But someone must have seen who did it."
He lifted one thin shoulder hesitantly. "I s'pose so, m'lady."
"Alexi, I want ye to do something for me. This is very important. I want ye to be a spy." She doubted anyone would willingly tell her who had hit the scaffolding, especially after Munro had said it didn't matter, but Alexi was another matter.
His eyes widened. "Like the ones that went into Jericho?"
She nodded. "Exactly. Now I need ye to find who bumped into that scaffolding, but ye must nae let anyone know I have asked. Do ye understand?"
Again, he bobbed his head. "I'm good at gettin' the gossip, m'lady. My mam pays me for good castle gossip."
Elen could not resist a laugh. "Go, Alexi. And come back just as soon as ye learn the information. All right?"
For the next few hours, Elen tried to keep busy. She tried not to think about the fact that Munro believed she had betrayed him. She tried not to think about his last words. If she did, she would not be able to go on. Not be able to function.
Rosalyn was still lounging about the keep, now eating again in the great hall. Elen didn't know why her sister was prolonging her visit, but wished she would go home. She had enough problems to deal with. She didn't need Rosalyn, too.
Elen was pacing the floor before the hearth when Alexi came through the doorway. Everyone was about their business, so the hall was empty but for her and her sister.
Elen hurried toward him, lowering her voice to prevent anyone from hearing her.
"Who was it?" she whispered.
Alexi dragged his woolen bonnet from his head. "It weren't his fault. It really weren't, from what they say."
Elen waited.
"'Twas John Reds," he confessed miserably.
"John Reds?" Elen frowned. John Reds was a young man, not yet twenty, who worked in the blacksmith's shop. He had had a fever as a child and barely had the sense to find his way in out of the rain. "John Reds?" she repeated.
"But it weren't his fault," Alexi spilled. "It really was nae. Someone bumped into him and he fell."
Elen met the lad's gaze. "Who?" she whispered. "Who bumped into John?"
"'Twas the steward."
For a moment, Elen stared at Alexi. The steward. Finley.
Finley.
Her stomach tightened. Finley had known not only that Munro was riding in search of the reavers, but what path the men would take. Finley had been working in the cellars that day with Munro. He could have loosened a stone. Blown out the torch. He could have caused the accident at the wall. And Elen had told Finley to have someone run down to the beach and be sure the boat was sound.
For a moment, Elen thought she would be sick. How could she have been so stupid? So blind? She had always heard sayings about a woman scorned, but what of a man scorned? Finley had declared his love for her and she had denied him... for Munro.
Finley was trying to kill her Munro, and, God help her, she had sent him after her husband.
"Saddle me a pony!" Elen told Alexi. "Now!"
"Aye, m'lady. Where do ye go, m'lady?"
Elen hurried for the door, dragging Alexi with her. "Pack food for me, a tinderbox, whatever I need. Find Banoff and his brother. I want them to go with me."
Rosalyn hustled after her. "Where are ye going?" she called.
"To find Munro," Elen threw over her shoulder. She had no intention of telling Rosalyn any more.
"You're riding after him?"
"Rosalyn, go home," Elen ordered sharply. "Go home to your husband and try not to get yourself into any trouble."
Rosalyn halted in the entryway and cursed foully beneath her breath. Elen just ignored her. She had to hurry. Finley had a good three hours on her. Thankfully, Munro had three over him. She only prayed she could reach one of them in time.
* * *
Rosalyn stood in Dunblane's hall entry for a moment. Elen was going after him? Was that nae perfect? If anything went wrong, if she managed to catch up with Finley or with Munro, all might be lost... and she might just be able to track back to the source.
For a moment, Rosalyn
wasn't certain what to do. All she knew was that she had to save her own neck. She had to stop Elen.
But she couldn't do it here. Not with so many witnesses. It would have to be done once she left the keep. On the trail. But Rosalyn was a poor rider. She knew nothing of tracking a man, and she certainly did not wish to traipse about in the snow in the mountains. Only one person could help her. One who would have to help her.
Rosalyn mounted a pony and headed straight for Rancoff. In half an hour's time, she dismounted in the bailey.
"Where is Cerdic?" she shouted to the snotty-nosed boy who took her reins and helped her dismount. "Where is my husband?"
The lad cringed, frightened. He had damned well better be frightened of her.
"In... in the barn, m'lady," he managed.
Rosalyn strode through the bailey to the stable's entrance, paying no mind to the snow and mud that pulled at the hem of her gown and mantle. "Get out," she shouted. "Get out, all of ye. I must speak to m'lord alone."
Stable boys scrambled to get past her.
Cerdic appeared from a stall, wiping his hands on a rag. "What's wrong, lovely? Did ye nae have a good visit with your sister?"
"Cerdic, my beloved husband!" Rosalyn chose a place where there was clean straw and threw herself at her husband's feet. She knew she had to make this good. "Oh, please help me. Please, I beg of ye." Real tears ran down her cheeks.
Cerdic crouched in front of her, immediately concerned. "What's wrong? Tell me." He grasped her shoulders and tried to raise her to her feet. "Dinnae cry, Rosalyn. Please. Ye know I cannae stand to see ye cry."
She squeezed out more tears as she slowly rose to her feet to peer into his eyes. "I have done a terrible thing, husband, and now they will hang me for it."
His face froze. "What are ye talking about? Stop this nonsense. Who will hang ye?"
"I did it all for ye. Ye have to understand. Ye deserve Rancoff. We deserve Dunblane."
"Rancoff? Dunblane?" He gave her a shake. "Rosalyn, ye make no sense. Tell me what ye speak of."
"I... I hired a man to kill Munro. Dear Lord, I am sorry. And now my sister has figured it out. Oh, Cerdic, she will see me hanged. Ye know she will."
He let go of her as if her skin burned him. "Hired someone to kill my brother?"
"'Twas for ye, my love. I wanted it for ye."
Tears filled his eyes.
Rosalyn knew he felt some silly loyalty to Munro, but she would convince him to do what had to be done. She knew she could because he would do anything for her. Just like Finley. Anything.
"Kill my brother?" he repeated in shock.
"So ye could inherit Rancoff and Dunblane. We would hold Dunblane as well, because ye would inherit what is Rancoff's."
Cerdic took a step back, shaking his head in horror.
"But now my sister has figured out what is about. At least part of it." She grabbed his shirt. "And ye must stop her before she finds Munro or Finley or even Banoff and that idiot brother of his."
He shook his head emphatically. "Nae my brother, Rosalyn. My brother? I willnae have a part in this treachery."
She laughed. If one ploy did not work, she had another. "Nae a part of this?" Her tone changed to one of accusation. "Don't ye see, ye addlepate? Ye are already a part of this, and the king will know when he comes to investigate. Who else would hire a man to kill his elder brother but the man who stands to inherit? Ye'll be hanging from your scrawny neck ere the new year, innocent as a newborn babe."
"Nay... nay." Cerdic just kept shaking his head as if he had no sense at all.
"I am afraid 'tis true, my love. Now listen to me, and listen carefully." She pointed west. "My sister has just left Dunblane. She couldnae have gotten far. Ye must kill her and bury her. No one must find her." She smoothed her husband's wet cheek. "If anyone else rides with her, ye must kill them, too. But I suspect she will ride alone when she realizes the men she called for are nae available."
Cerdic stared at her, his lower lip trembling.
"It will be all right," she soothed, kissing his mouth. "'Twill all work out. Ye will be a great laird and I—I will be your lady, at your beck and call."
He blinked.
"Do ye understand what ye must do, my love—to save me, to save yourself?"
He swallowed. Nodded.
"Good. Then saddle a pony, and I will go into the keep and get ye a bag with any necessary tools." Rosalyn kissed him once more and then released him and walked out of the stable.
Chapter 27
Within an hour, Elen began to question her rash decision to set out alone after Finley. There were so many strange noises to spook a pony on the mountain pass, so many dangerous turns and twists on the hazardous path. She should have found someone to escort her, but who could she trust at this point? She had wanted Banoff and John to accompany her, but they had apparently left just after dawn to hunt and were not expected to return until after dark.
Elen knew her way through the mountains, for over the years she had traveled several times to Inverness with her father. But she had never traveled in the winter through the snow. Never traveled alone. Never traveled while attempting to catch up with a man she feared was trying to murder her husband.
She kept her eyes and ears open. It was bitterly cold, and the smell of snow bit the air. In places, the path was so slippery that she had to dismount and walk. "Please, God," she prayed, her cold fingers wrapped tightly around the reins. "Protect him. Protect my Munro. Keep him safe until I see him again. Until I can tell him I love him."
Elen was no more than three or four hours from Dunblane when she heard hoofbeats behind her. As she urged her pony off the main track, hoping to hide, ready to run if she had to, she heard a familiar voice.
"Hallo! Hallo! Elen!"
She thought she recognized the voice, but she wasn't sure.
"'Tis Cerdic," the man called.
Cerdic? What was Cerdic doing so far from home? At least she knew he was not responsible for the attempts on Munro's life, else he would be behind Munro and in front of her, wouldn't he?
She pulled up her pony and waited, her hand on her mount's haunch where she carried a broadsword. "Cerdic," she called cautiously as he rode into sight. "What are ye doing here?"
His face was bright red from the cold and he looked as if he had been crying. "Your sister told me someone was trying to kill Munro," he said, riding up beside her.
"Ye came to help?"
Cerdic's rheumy gaze met hers. "Nay. I fear not."
From the corner of her eye, Elen saw him move as she heard the words, but she had no time to respond. She felt a mind-numbing pain in the back of her head as her vision burst into piercing bright light. She felt herself tumble from the pony, and then there was only blackness.
* * *
It was late afternoon when Munro dismounted to give his pony a rest. He had ridden hard and covered more ground than he thought possible, considering the snowy conditions.
He gazed up at the gray sky, trying to calculate how much daylight was left, and if he should attempt to travel after dark. He would not have stopped now, but if he didn't give the shaggy pony a rest, the mare would not make it over the mountains.
Leaving his mount ground-tied to forage on the forest floor for something green, Munro paced, chewing on a piece of dried venison. Anger had driven him into the mountains at this speed, anger that urged him forward even after he was weary. Multiple times, he'd had to dismount and walk the pony through the snowdrifts, but nothing slowed him down. It was his anger with Elen. It was the pain.
He snatched off his wool bonnet and scratched his head. Despite the cold, he was sweaty. He and the mare had walked a long distance up a slippery, snowy path to get to this spot. He dropped his bonnet back on his head, knowing the importance of staying warm.
Munro could not believe Elen had done this to him. He had thought she loved him, had convinced himself she loved him and was merely too stubborn to admit it.
Munro kicked at
the snow. He had been so sure. The feelings had been so strong. Even when her actions did not show it, he had felt a bond with her he had never felt before.
But there was the evidence. Someone was trying to kill him.
Evidence.
That word had been haunting him all day. Had he been too quick to judge? What was the evidence against his wife? The loose stone on the stairs, the falling rock from the wall, the sabotaged boat—all had taken place at Dunblane. Then there was the lone archer who had struck Rob. The arrow could very well have been meant for Munro. But perhaps not.
Logically, it made sense that the perpetrator had to be from Dunblane. But was that too simple? Too clean?
He gnawed on the salty, pungent meat. Elen had seemed generally concerned after the accidents. She had rushed to his side at Rancoff, leaving her own keep to be with him after Robert was shot. She had been so kind, so loving. Was that part of the ruse so he would not suspect she was plotting against him?
Or had he made a mistake? Logic told him she had done it, but his heart... his heart pulled him in another direction. Was he just being a lovesick fool?
And if Elen had not attempted to kill him, who had?
His brother's name rang in his head. It made the most sense; he had the most to gain from Munro's death.
But would Cerdic mastermind such a plot? Could he follow through with it?
Not Cerdic. Munro stared at the sky. Not his brother.
Munro wished he had not left Dunblane in such haste. He should have remained there until he had gotten to the bottom of this. His emotions had gotten the best of him, just as his father said they would. His love for Elen and the pain of the thought that his wife could betray him for nothing more than a rocky piece of land and a stone keep had driven him out. It was an iron-tipped pain that he felt sharply, even now.
Munro glanced west, up the path that wound deeper into the mountains. Then he looked downward toward home. What did he do now? Follow his duty to his king, fetch the lass, and then head home to solve this great mystery? Or go home now and leave the king's daughter and men waiting?
Highland Lady Page 26