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

by Elaine Manders

  He planted another kiss on her temple and raced up the stairs. They couldn’t be late for services. Perhaps after prayers, the nerves churning his stomach would have lessened, and he could think of the best course of action.

  ***

  The Stonecrest kirk resembled the one at McWayre. Made of stone inside and out, the building stood inside a wooded area with its steeple rising majestically above the trees. Sunlight gilded the slate roof as if heaven itself set the place apart.

  With her hand tucked through the crook of Gavin’s elbow, Alana climbed the steps. From the small vestibule, a red carpet ran down the middle of the sanctuary to the altar.

  As they moved to the front, her glance traveled from one side to the other in admiration of the stained glass windows lining the walls.

  Heads turned and voices whispered as they passed by each pew. That didn’t surprise Alana. The people would naturally be curious about her.

  The stone pews weren’t designed for comfort, and the red cushions covering those reserved for the Carmichael were a luxury she welcomed.

  As soon as Gavin seated her, the bewigged vicar stepped up to welcome Gavin.

  “Vicar Murray, may I present my wife.”

  The vicar bowed. “Lady Carmichael, we’re delighted by your coming.”

  After she’d murmured her thanks, the vicar turned to Gavin, asking questions regarding the business of the kirk.

  Minutes ticked off, and Alana found her attention wandering to the shuffling sounds behind them. She glanced over her shoulder and found half the kirk had emptied, and a giant of a man with wild red hair and beard lumbering up the aisle.

  The man stopped in front of Gavin and the vicar. “Since none others will speak out, I’ll have to.”

  “What is it McGil?” Gavin asked.

  “Ye ken Neal Frasier’s wife and bairns died just last week and now Nye, the gamekeeper, was found dead.” McGil’s fist shook in the air. “You’ve brought trouble to the clan in marrying that woman. She’s the daughter of a witch. That makes her a witch.”

  How foolish to think she’d be accepted here in God’s house. Alana wished she could sink into the stone floor, and panic rose, threatening to smother her. She ken better than Gavin how the people felt about her, but she hadna expected anyone to be so bold as to attack her in the kirk.

  She dinna have time to think of that now. Her attention riveted on her husband who shook with rage. “How dare you suggest such a thing? I demand you apologize to my wife this moment, or you can take your leave of this kirk and my property.”

  McGil darted a glance to the vicar. “Doona it say in the Scriptures a witch shouldna be allowed to live. That’s not for me to judge, but all of us know it.”

  Alana saw Gavin raise his fist, and a scream rose in her throat. The vicar’s words were cut off as Gavin smashed into McGil, throwing the man to the floor.

  McGil scrambled backward, blood pouring from his nose. He swiped at it with the back of his hand and kept his distance. “I beg pardon for bringing this to God’s house, but nothing I say, nor you say, can change what people believe.”

  As Gavin lunged toward him, McGil turned and loped off.

  Everyone stared at Gavin. The whole kirk held its collective breath while Alana strangled her hands. Now was the time for Gavin to tell them Vanora was behind the lies, that she was likely responsible for poisoning the Frasiers.

  But instead of explaining, Gavin turned to the vicar. “I’m certain you understand under the circumstances, I must take my wife home.”

  Not a word passed between them until they arrived at the castle and settled on a sofa in the drawing room.

  She studied his countenance, afraid to speak. He blamed her. How could he not? Of all the women in the world to marry, he’d chosen the one Vanora could use as a weapon against him. It wasn’t Alana’s fault, but that was the end result.

  He must regret having married her.

  How could she hope to gain his love when she brought him strife at every turn? At last, she could hold it in no longer. “Why dinna you tell them it was Vanora’s fault?”

  He looked at her as if the thought never occurred to him. “Alana, those people aren’t going to believe it’s Vanora’s fault.” He clutched his hands together and leaned forward, propping them on his knees.

  “Mrs. Kilgarney was afraid. She told me I was in danger. She knows the truth.”

  “Of course she’s afraid. That’s why she’d never admit the truth.”

  Alana glanced at the far wall where the painting hung of a stag being killed by hunters. Except for that, all was quiet and peaceful.

  How deceptive.

  “Did Mrs. Kilgarney admit that Vanora poisoned the stew?” Gavin asked.

  “She said the stew had spoiled, and threw it out. That explains why the rest of the family didn’t get sick.”

  Gavin hung his head. “She’ll hold to that story, and Frasier and McGil will believe it.”

  Frustration seized Alana. She tried to reason with the problem, but Gavin was ready to accept defeat. Somehow, she expected more from her husband. As a chieftain, he wouldna accept this.

  She turned to glare at him. “I care not what Frasier or McGil think. I only care what you think, Gavin.”

  “I think Vanora is capable of murder, but it can’t be proved. I’m sorry I took you to the kirk.” The anger in his eyes made her flinch as he spoke. “You’re not safe even there. Don’t leave the castle again unless I’m with you.”

  “So I’m to live as the prisoner? You agree I must prove I’m Hester’s daughter, not the daughter of a witch.” Dinna he see that? Red McGil spoke for all the clan. Nothing could be solved unless they were persuaded to believe the truth.

  “There’s no time for that now. Yes, there are those who believe the superstitious nonsense that you brought on the Fraisers’ illnesses, but if you have no dealing with the people, and there are no more illness, they’ll change their minds. At the moment, I have to concern myself with Nye’s death.”

  She sat with shoulders hunched and head down. “So Vanora is to get away with murder, yet I’m to be a prisoner in my own home?”

  He laid a hand on her shoulder, and she flung it off, standing to stare down at him. “Do you know that some lads threw horse dung at me as I rode home? Are you going to let your wife be so insulted? I’ve stayed hidden and remained silent long enough, Gavin. It’s your job to defend us.”

  She was being unfair. He had defended her against McGil. The hurt in his eyes speared her, and she wished to take those words back, to beg his pardon.

  He was already disappointed with her and likely regretted marrying her, but she was disappointed too.

  She’d been so looking forward to welcoming him home. He would alleviate her fears and together they would plan how to prove she was Hester’s daughter and expose Vanora for the liar she was.

  Now this. He just wanted to lock her up until he found time to deal with her.

  Gavin got to his feet and, leaning over her, grabbed her by her shoulders. “You’re right. I failed to defend you. In my haste I thought I could make the people change. I can’t change them. Only God can do that. The vicar and I will go to each family, beginning with Red McGil, and convince them the Bible condemns prejudice and injustice as much as witchcraft.”

  Alana swallowed the lump of fear that thought evoked. “Are you truly going to banish McGil?”

  His hands slid down her arms. “Nay, I can’t. He speaks out of ignorance, and anyway, I can hardly force his whole family out because of him.”

  Her hands went to his waist and she held on, her eyes pleading. “You will be verra careful.”

  He touched her cheek, and his smile went straight to her heart. “Aye, I’ll be careful, and I trust you to stay within the confines of the castle until I tell you otherwise. I promise you you won’t remain a prisoner for long, and I shall take tea with you each afternoon.”

  She worked her lips into a wobbly smile. “I shall.”
<
br />   Indeed, what choice did she have?

  Chapter 14

  Well past noon the next day, Gavin and Morgan returned from investigating Nye’s murder. The place where his body had been found was on Clan Morgan land and lay north of Carmichael. The major roadway separating the clans was a site of constant highway robbery.

  “I suspect when we find the thieves, the scoundrel who murdered Nye will be among them.” Morgan’s boots slapped the cobblestones in lockstep with Gavin’s.

  “We know the murderer is connected with the Gilmour.” Gavin fingered his bag that held the torn plaid taken from Nye’s neck.

  “The men should finish questioning their crofters by tomorrow, but you should know, they’ve found no one at the Kerr’s hut but the woman.”

  This didn’t surprise Gavin. “Never mind. I’ll go myself tomorrow. I’ve promised to take tea with my wife this afternoon.”

  A footman rushed to swing the castle doors open for them.

  Morgan gave his beaver to Halberd. “I understand. A man has his priorities.” Morgan elbowed him and turned toward the wing where the rooms assigned to the visiting neighbors were situated.

  Gavin handed his gloves to the butler. “I’m a bit late, Halberd. Tell her ladyship I’ll join her in about half an hour.”

  “I’ll take her the message. She waits in her parlor.”

  Not wanting to keep her waiting longer than necessary, Gavin raced up the stairs and came back down in little more than a quarter hour.

  When he entered the parlor, Alana sprang to her feet and stared with wide frightened eyes.

  Something about her forlorn expression rushed him to her, and he crushed her to his chest. “All will be well, lass.” The softness of her russet hair caressed his face, and he drank in the scent of rose water.

  She stepped out of his embrace. “I was in a fret when you tarried. That man, McGil, had such hatred in his eyes.” Her shoulders relaxed as she moved to the bell pull. “The tea has grown cold. I’ll order a fresh pot.”

  He smiled. She cared enough to worry over him.

  Waiting until she sat back down, he joined her on the sofa. “Vicar Murray is going around to each family to alleviate their fears of witchcraft and tainted blood. I should have thought to call for his help before now. It’s his business to address our spiritual needs, and this is a spiritual need. I was so focused on my anger at Vanora, I failed to realize that.”

  “The good vicar doesna think me a witch?”

  “Of course not. We’ll have him and his wife to dinner soon. You and I might benefit from some spiritual guidance as well.” Gavin was certain he would. He hadn’t given nearly enough weight to his own spiritual well-being, much less, his people.

  Halberd came into the room bearing a tray. “I brought a hot kettle of tea and some fresh scones, m’lady. I anticipated that’s why you rang.” He deposited the tray on the low table before them.

  “Aye, thank you. How does Lord Barthram fare?”

  “Resting comfortably, m’lady. I’m going to read to him now.” With perfect comportment, the butler bowed and ambled off.

  While Alana poured their tea, Gavin picked up the threads of his discussion. “The vicar had an excellent suggestion. Instead of calling a ceilidh to celebrate our marriage, which might not be received well, he suggested we celebrate Rory’s homecoming.”

  She handed him the cup as one winged brow shot up. “Rory is coming home?”

  “Aye, I’d forgotten to mention that. It’ll take a week for the message to reach him and perhaps a fortnight for him to arrive.” Gavin sipped his tea and, when Alana remained silent, went on to explain. “The clan has always admired Rory more than me.”

  Surprise lifted both brows. “Why is that?”

  “After my studies at Oxford, I went on missions for King George. That didn’t endear me to the people. We lowlanders have never been as much against English rule as you highlanders, but a streak of independence runs deep in us all.”

  He accepted a buttered scone from Alana. “I didn’t return to Stonecrest until Father took to his bed. I would have returned sooner had I known how his condition had worsened.”

  “I dinna know that.”

  He should have confided this to her before now. “I hope you realize you’re not to blame for the clan people’s contempt of me. I brought that on myself.”

  She touched his arm. “You’re not to blame either. If the king sent you on a mission, you couldna object.”

  With a pat to her hand, he gave her a smile before biting into the scone.

  A comfortable silence fell between them as they ate. He couldn’t expect her to understand the undercurrents swirling around the clans. No matter what happened, one would blame the other, and all blamed him.

  Vanora made sure of that. Alana was just another convenient target for their suspicion.

  Alana finally broke the silence with a whisper. “You’ll charge Vanora during the assizes?”

  “I’d rather wage a campaign against the Gilmour men. Without them, Vanora will be helpless. The assizes will be delayed until the thieves are identified and held in the dock, and I hope, Nye’s murderer with them.”

  They both turned at the sound of the door opening. Halberd stood in the opening. “Lady Gilmour has called, m’lord.”

  Gavin and Alana threw questioning glances at each other. “Show her in,” he said.

  Elspeth wore no bonnet, and her blonde hair was disheveled by the wind. Raindrops stained her cloak. “Thank dear Saint Ninian, you’ve returned.” She addressed Gavin, then went only as far as the nearest chair and fell into it.

  “Bring another cup for Lady Gilmour, Halberd,” Gavin said.

  “Make it strong and sweetened,” Elspeth called after Halberd.

  Gavin turned to Elspeth. “Would you like to wait on the tea before explaining your visit?”

  They understood each other. Elspeth took no offense at his abrupt question. “Lyulf is missing.”

  “Missing or left?”

  “Are you dim-witted? Lyulf wouldn’t have left without a word. He didn’t return last night. I’ve had servants out searching.” She paused for a long sigh. “But I need your help.”

  Gavin frowned as he brushed crumbs off his breeches. “Lyulf didn’t return after his meeting with me?”

  Alana broke in with a question of her own. “What does Vanora say?”

  “Vanora left for London right after the Frasier wake.”

  “Gavin told me she was leaving, but we dinna know when. How did she leave?”

  Elspeth shrank back into her chair. “She traveled overland, of course. You know how she hates ships since her father lies at the bottom of the sea.”

  Halberd returned, and Elspeth accepted the cup of dark honey-sweetened brew. As soon as the butler bowed out, Gavin posed another question. “Why didn’t you alert us when Lyulf didn’t return from the village?”

  Elspeth set her cup aside with a clatter. “He heard that Nye, your gamekeeper, was found murdered. He intended to investigate after meeting with you, so I thought nothing of it until late last night. We knew Nye had been strangled with a strip of our plaid.”

  Several seconds passed as she looked past them. “Something happened this morning that has me terrified.”

  Her mouth worked but nothing came out so Gavin prompted her. “What terrified you?”

  “I believed it was time for Lyulf to start dressing in our colors. I opened Robert’s trunk, and Lyulf selected a kilt and sash. This morning I found this lying on top of the trunk.” She opened her cloak and pulled out a woven wool sash of Gilmour plaid. It had been cut raggedly as if with a dull knife.

  Gavin stood and took the cloth. From his coat’s inside pocket, he retrieved the strip of plaid that had been bound around Nye’s neck. Squatting, he laid one piece on the floor, then the other, positioning the edges together. They fit like the pieces of a puzzle.

  Elspeth’s face turned white. She grabbed the cup and drained its contents. Gavin
rose, holding both pieces of plaid. “Was Lord Gilmour’s trunk locked?”

  With a shake of her head, Elspeth’s gaze darted from Alana to Gavin. “Yes, and no one knew where I kept the key except Lyulf and—”

  “Vanora?” Alana asked.

  Elspeth glared at her. “Vanora has left.” The words came out through gritted teeth. Then she laughed, a high pitched, jarring sound. “Vanora was excited about her trip. She had nothing to do with this.”

  “What does she intend to do in London?” Gavin asked.

  “She hopes to be presented at court. She was to wait until next season, but Lady Tynsdale invited her.”

  ‘Tynsdale?” Alana got to her feet. “You refer to Miriam Tynsdale?”

  Astonished that Alana knew about Miriam Tynsdale, Gavin hoped she wouldn’t blurt out anything more. He didn’t know how much Elspeth could be trusted. “Did Vanora go alone?” he asked.

  “Of course not. She took her maid, and Lady Tynsdale sent an escort.”

  Alana had composed herself. “I think you should stay with us, Aunt Elspeth, until Lyulf is found.”

  “Why should I do that?”

  “Alana is right,” Gavin said. “A murderer is loose, and he may be the one who placed that strip of plaid on your trunk. Obviously you were meant to find it.”

  Elspeth’s chest rose and fell as she clutched her hands together until the knuckles turned white. Then she tilted her head back, and Gavin had to admire how quickly she swallowed her fears. “I suppose you’re right, but how will I get my things?”

  “We’ll send a servant to get your maid,” Alana said. “She can bring your things. I’m sure Gavin will have the men scouring the land to look for the culprit…and for Lyulf.”

  He caught the pleading in Alana’s glance. “Of course.” He folded the strips of plaid. “Someone will have seen or heard something. We’ll find Lyulf.” Unless Lyulf was the culprit himself.

  Elspeth flinched and indecision warred in her eyes, then she shrugged one shoulder. “Very well. What do I have to go home to anyway?” Despite her controlled tone, she visibly trembled as she stood, her face as pale as farm cheese.

  Alana hooked Elspeth by the arm. “I’ll show you to your chambers.” She cast a glance of appeal toward Gavin as she walked past him. “You will see me in my chambers before you retire for the night?”