Kill or Be Kilt

by Victoria Roberts

  “I’ll be back in a few moments with a tray, and then I’ll help you dress.”

  “You take such good care of me, Mistress Betts.”

  “And it is my pleasure, my lady.”

  The door closed, and Elizabeth opened the lid to her trunk. She rifled underneath her dresses until she found her pouch of lavender. Her fingers made quivering motions in the water as she sprinkled the contents into the tub. She tied up the small bag, and once she secured it in her trunk, she removed her robe and nightrail.

  Grabbing the side of the tub for support, she climbed in, letting the warm water soothe her aching body. She let out a heavy sigh of pleasure, and a smile crossed her face when she thought of Ian. Although she was tender and sore, she enjoyed being with him. She closed her eyes, musing on private memories, and her lips tingled in remembrance of his touch.

  When he’d removed his kilt and she’d caught a glimpse of his jutting manhood, he had pleasantly distracted her before allowing panic to set in. She was glad he did because she’d wondered how in the world they’d even be able to complete the act. Ian was a large man so she shouldn’t have been surprised the rest of him would follow suit. She still had no idea how she’d managed to accept him fully. But she’d never forget how respectful and caring he was with her, the way every man should treat a woman.

  The steam and smell of lavender calmed her. She felt at peace. There was a quiet knock, and Mistress Betts entered with the tray of food.

  “There’s no need to rush. Enjoy your bath, my lady.”

  Mistress Betts placed the tray on the table beside the bed, and before Elizabeth could stop her, the woman lifted the blankets in an attempt to straighten what Elizabeth had done in haste earlier to cover the blood.

  When Mistress Betts stilled and a puzzled gaze crossed her face, Elizabeth’s mind raced. “I…er, what I mean to—”

  “You don’t have to say anything, my lady.” Mistress Betts grabbed all the blankets from the bed and gathered them into a ball. “I’ll wash these myself. And what happened is no one’s business but yours and a certain laird’s.” Her eyes were kind and understanding, and then she turned and lifted the latch on the door. “I’ll take these below stairs and bring you some fresh blankets.” Before she could respond, the door closed again.

  Elizabeth didn’t think Mistress Betts would tell anyone about her indiscretion, but she felt ill at ease the woman knew Ian had shared her bed last night. Furthermore, she favored Mistress Betts. She didn’t want the woman thinking she was a harlot.

  Pulling herself from the tub, Elizabeth grabbed a drying cloth from the table and stepped out of the water. Once she was dry, she donned her nightrail and robe and then sat on the bed to break her fast. There was a single knock, and Mistress Betts returned with an armful of blankets.

  “We have enough room over here for you to dress, if that suits you, and I can have the men remove the tub after you leave for court,” said Mistress Betts.

  “That would be fine.” Elizabeth paused. “I must admit that I’m feeling rather humiliated, but I do want you to know… Laird Munro and I are betrothed.”

  Mistress Betts smiled. “It was only a matter of time, my lady. I’m glad to hear it, but you don’t need to offer me an explanation.”

  “Yes, well, it’s important that you don’t think poorly of me.”

  “Lady Elizabeth, I could never think poorly of you. Now let’s get you dressed for court.”

  * * *

  “Are ye certain ye donna want me to talk with Elizabeth?” asked Ruairi, walking with Ian to the stable.

  “I talked with her late last eve. She was a wee bit shaken, but she’s all right. Ye do remember she is a Walsingham and comes from a long line of tough stock. But I do give thanks to your wife for showing the lass how to bring a man to his knees.”

  “At least Ravenna did nae show Elizabeth how to kill a man because then we’d have one hell of a mess to explain.”

  “There is that.”

  The sun was shining, and a cool breeze lifted the edge of Ian’s kilt. As they watched the stable hands saddling their horses, Ian felt like a lad about to ask his father for a big favor. He wiped his sweaty palms on his kilt, folded his arms over his chest, and then placed his hands at his sides.

  “I told ye before that I loved Elizabeth.”

  Ruairi glanced at Ian and spoke hesitantly. “Aye, ye did.”

  “I’m asking ye now for her hand in marriage. I want her to be my wife.”

  “Ye want that responsibility?” Ruairi’s eyes grew openly amused. “I mean to say that ye were uncertain she’d have ye when Condell was fighting for the lass’s affections.”

  “I’ve ne’er been surer of anything in my life,” said Ian with conviction.

  “After last eve, I donna think ye have to worry about Condell winning Elizabeth’s favor anytime soon. But is that why ye’re asking me for her hand now?”

  “Nay. I’ve been an idiot for too long.”

  “Good. I wanted to make certain ye were nae just asking me because ye were afraid of losing the lass to another man.” His friend smiled from ear to ear. “Ye’ve made my day, Munro. Although I will miss Lady Elizabeth being on Sutherland lands, I thank ye for taking a Walsingham out from under my roof. With Ravenna, wee Mary, Katherine, another bairn on the way, and especially Grace, I need all the help I can get. Poor Torquil needs a brother soon. My home is completely overrun by women.”

  “I could have told ye that. Do I have your blessing to take Elizabeth as my wife?”

  “Aye, if the lass will have ye. I can nae see Ravenna having any disagreement with that either.”

  “Mòran taing.” Thank you very much.

  Ruairi studied Ian intently. “When will ye ask her?”

  “When the time is right.”

  “The sun is finally shining upon us. Do ye think we’ll be granted our audience with the king?” asked a male voice.

  Ruairi and Ian turned as Fagan greeted them with a smile.

  “Being that the Ross, Fraser, and MacKay arrived three days before us, that is my hope. I’m ready to take my leave and wash my hands of this place. I want to take my wife and my clan home where they belong,” said Ruairi. “And speaking of wives, it seems Munro will be taking one home too.”

  Fagan placed his hand over his heart, and his jaw dropped. “Munro will be taking someone to wife? Who might that be?”

  “I hate ye both,” said Ian.

  “Come now, Munro. What would ye do without us?” asked Fagan.

  “Do ye want me to answer that?”

  * * *

  Elizabeth wasn’t proud to admit that she’d made the men late for court. Even though none had complained, she felt guilty. A jousting tournament had already begun. As they made their way to the bleachers, a warm hand rested against the small of her back, and a lovely Scottish accent whispered in her ear.

  “I did nae think it possible, but ye are glowing this morn.”

  She looked at Ian and smiled. “I believe I have you to thank for that, Laird Munro.”

  “How are ye feeling? Are ye all right?”

  When she realized what he’d meant, she smiled. “I’m fine, but I do thank you for the bath.”

  “’Twas the least I could do.”

  They took their seats in the stands, and Elizabeth watched two men prepare for the tournament across the field from one another.

  Jousting armor was being securely fastened on each man as grooms cared for the large destriers. The horses wore caparisons displaying their rider’s heraldry as well as chamfrons to shield their heads. Barding was also being placed into position to protect the bodies of the horses. She was pleased so many precautions were taken to shield the riders and their mounts from harm.

  As she looked closer, Lord Kinghorne was escorting Lady Glamis away from the riders. The woman mu
st’ve been thrilled to meet the competitors, and for a moment, Elizabeth’s faith was restored in the earl because of his kindness toward his elderly mother. Ian was right. Elizabeth couldn’t have been sure of what she had seen.

  “Lady Elizabeth! Lady Elizabeth!”

  When she turned and gazed over her shoulder, Lady Margery was waving her hands madly in the air. She sat with her sister three rows behind Elizabeth. Leaning forward in the stands, Lady Margery rested her hand on the man in front of her in order to talk with Elizabeth.

  “Please beg my pardon.” Lady Margery offered the man an apologetic smile. “Lady Elizabeth, do be sure to cheer for the man on the right. He’s my father’s friend and a member of the council. Jousting has been Lord Dormer’s pastime for years.”

  “I will, Lady Margery.” Elizabeth turned around and leaned closer to Ian. “Did you ever joust?”

  “I’ve ne’er had a desire to maim my enemies. I prefer their deaths to be quick with a blow from my sword.” When a soft gasp escaped her, he added, “I’m only jesting with ye. I’ve ne’er jousted.”

  A hushed silence fell over the crowd as the competitors mounted their horses, and both men moved into position. The men kicked their mounts, thundering toward each other at breakneck speed. One of the lances shattered on his opponent’s shield, and Lord Dormer was unhorsed, falling hard to the ground with a heavy thump. Shouts erupted from the bleachers, and the winner held up his lance in victory.

  Elizabeth gazed at the fallen man who still did not move. “Ian, is he all right?”

  “Aye, the breath was probably knocked out of him. Give him a moment.”

  Lord Dormer’s opponent handed his lance to a groom and dismounted. He removed his helmet as he walked with haste to Lord Dormer’s side. The man dropped his headgear and fell to his knees. He was shouting for assistance to remove Lord Dormer’s armor, and then Elizabeth could’ve sworn she heard the man cry out.

  As men gathered, encircling Lord Dormer, Elizabeth couldn’t see anything. She glanced behind her at Lady Margery and Lady Gillian, and their expressions mirrored her own. Elizabeth felt Ian grasp her arm with the intent to lead her away from the unfolding scene.

  “No. Please, Ian. I have to stay and find out if he’s all right.”

  He released his grip, but she took his hand and held it tightly. When a handful of men stepped back, Lord Dormer’s armor had been removed. His clothing was soaked in blood. What frightened her more was that she could see a pool of blood from where she sat in the bleachers.

  “I don’t understand. I thought the lances had blunt tips. How could Lord Dormer be bleeding?”

  No sooner did she ask the question when one of the grooms grabbed the lance that had unseated Lord Dormer. As men studied the tip, Lord Dormer’s opponent shouted as the king’s guard raced toward him.

  “That is not my lance! Someone replaced mine with a pointed tip! It wasn’t me!”

  “Hang him! He’s been killing members of the Privy Council!” shouted someone from the stands.

  “Off with his head!” screamed a man from behind her.

  Elizabeth sat in awe as the man was dragged away by the king’s guard, and Lord Dormer’s lifeless body was carried off the field.

  Twenty-one

  Ian wanted to take Elizabeth far away from the bowels of court. Not only was he unsettled that she’d witnessed a man being killed in the light of day, but what irked him even more was that there was nothing he could do. Last evening Condell was an arse, and this morn, someone was murdered before her eyes. He couldn’t shelter her. He couldn’t erase what she’d seen. And he couldn’t take her home.

  As Ruairi, Fagan, Ian, and Elizabeth reached the entrance to the great hall, Laird Fraser walked toward them with an annoyed expression.

  “I swear the king’s only purpose is to torture the Highland lairds.”

  “Fagan, would ye take Elizabeth inside?” asked Ian.

  “Aye. Come now, lass.” Fagan wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and the men followed them into the great hall. Ian gestured the Fraser and Ruairi against the far wall.

  “What do ye mean? Tell me ye had your audience,” said Ruairi.

  “Och, aye. We met with the king…for less than five minutes. He asked us the same questions he always does about crops and rents, but he wanted to know how many men I had at my command. The MacKay thinks the king is considering a costly war with Spain.”

  “There’s been a peace treaty for years,” said Ian.

  The Fraser’s eyes darted around the hall, and then he leaned against the wall, lowering his voice. “’Tis nay secret the Crown is in debt. As ye can see for yourself—” He gestured with his hand. “The king spares nay expense. Since he dismissed parliament and has nay parliamentary subsidies, the entire realm has nay coin with which to bargain. It will nae be long before they donna have a pot to piss in.”

  Before the Fraser continued, he glanced around the hall to make certain no one overheard. “There are whispers the king has been making futile attempts to negotiate policies with Spain. But Spain does nae want war. The country declared they would nae interfere with King James’s rule in Ireland if he was willing to curtail English attacks in Spanish waters. But ye know the damn English, always wanting to take what is nae theirs. The Ross heard the king has resorted to selling earldoms to gather coin for his cause.”

  “I can nae see how anything would become of it, even selling earldoms,” said Ruairi. “Ye can nae support a war with coin ye donna have.”

  The Fraser shrugged. “Nevertheless, the king is nae alone with his thoughts. Och, aye. He dismantled parliament for nae agreeing with his views, but there are men who yet share his opinion like his damn Privy Council. But that problem may work itself out.”

  “Sooner than ye may think. Did ye hear another man, a member of the council, was killed at the jousting tournament just now?” asked Ian.

  The Fraser smiled. “As I said, the problem may yet work itself out.”

  “Are ye traveling back to Scotland on the morrow?” asked Ruairi.

  “Nay, we take our leave now. I donna want to spend one more waking moment in this hell with the English.”

  “I can nae say that I blame ye,” said Ian.

  “Ah, there’s the Ross and the MacKay now.” The Fraser’s eyes lit up. “I am going home.”

  “Turas math dhut,” said Ian. Have a good journey.

  When the man walked away, Ian sighed. “I know the king’s guard has been watching over members of the council, but I ne’er would’ve anticipated a jousting tournament ending in such disaster.”

  “Every day I am thankful my wife did nae accompany us to court. I donna think I’d be able to stop her from investigating the murders and finding out the man responsible. At least we donna have to worry about Elizabeth being a spy for the Crown.”

  * * *

  “Who could have done such a horrible thing? Who could have replaced Lord Dormer’s lance with a sharp tip?” asked Lady Gillian.

  “Shhh…lower your voice, Gillian,” said Lady Margery.

  Elizabeth glanced at Fagan sitting at the other end of the table waiting for Ian and Ruairi. If he’d heard Lady Gillian’s question, he didn’t acknowledge it.

  “They seized the wrong man. Any fool can see that. Something is not right. Why would he kill Lord Dormer in front of a crowd with hundreds of eyes upon him?”

  The way Lady Gillian asked the question Elizabeth didn’t think she wanted an answer.

  Lady Gillian’s accusatory voice stabbed the air. “It had to have been one of the grooms. They were the only men who could’ve switched the lances. Margery and I were there early and didn’t see anyone except the men in the competition and their grooms.”

  “But what could a groom possibly gain by murdering a lord from the king’s council?” asked Elizabeth. “I can’t think of anything, can
you?”

  While Lady Gillian mulled over the question, Lady Margery said, “No one knows why men do what they do. Some will do anything to advance their position for political gain.” She paused, deep in thought. “At least Father has guards around him night and day. And we can be assured that he will not be participating in a jousting tournament.”

  Elizabeth gave Lady Margery a compassionate smile. “I’m certain your father is very well protected. You don’t have anything to worry about.” Elizabeth wished that was true. The only thing she knew for certain was the man responsible for killing members of the council must have also murdered her uncle.

  “Let’s think of something else. There’s been enough darkness for today. Have you seen Mister Condell lately?” asked Lady Gillian.

  Elizabeth tried to mask her uneasy expression. “No, I haven’t.”

  “I’ve heard he will not be performing as King Henry for the final performance in two days. More’s the pity, if you ask me. He made a debonair king and was the perfect match for the role.”

  “I haven’t heard that,” said Lady Margery. “Did they say why?”

  Elizabeth took a sip of mulled wine.

  “I think he had an accident with his horse. His face was bruised and his nose was broken.”

  Elizabeth choked on her drink, and Lady Gillian patted her on the back. “Are you all right, Lady Elizabeth?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “I suppose another actor will assume his role, but I don’t think anyone will compare to the handsome Mister Condell. Lady Elizabeth, we’d love you to accompany us to the play as our guest,” said Lady Gillian. “I’m sure Henry VIII will not be the same without Mister Condell, but your company would be most welcome. To be honest, I can’t imagine sitting with my father and listening to his tedious conversations with the council. I swear, sometimes they barely stop to breathe.”

  “Yes, won’t you join us, Lady Elizabeth? We’d love to have you. We’re leaving court the day after the play and traveling home to the country. I’m afraid we won’t have much longer together,” said Lady Margery.

  Ian walked into the great hall with Ruairi, and Elizabeth stood, smoothing her skirts. “Pray excuse me.”