“How about your strength and finesse as a warrior? You do have a reputation. As to that, Ailein says that her sister watches you train.”
Conall held up the stump of his right hand. “I can only go so far with that.”
“True, and I suppose while we’re at it, your face and scars make you something of a beast, so you won’t be charming her with your looks.”
“Check.”
“I’m trying to help you, but I’m running out of ideas.” He moved his king.
“You’ve said nothing useful.”
“Have some new clothes made.”
“I want to woo her, Bryce. Innes. The woman wears black. Do you really think clothes are a priority?”
“Then . . . shave,” he threw out in desperation.
“Checkmate,” Conall said, disgust on his face. “For the life of me, brother, I don’t know what Ailein sees in you.”
Chapter 15
“My mistress would never have taken her own life.”
Sitting on wooden benches in the cottage, Innes and Ailein exchanged a side-glance and then watched Teva paw through the basket of food the visitors brought as a gift. Outside the open door, in a small garden that spread out behind the cottage, three goats grazed contentedly.
“You say you want to know about her? Then we can start there.”
The woman seemed to be old, but her true age was difficult to judge. Her gray hair was thinning and her back bowed from the years, but there was an energy in her that belonged to a much younger woman.
Two Sinclair warriors had escorted them to the village. Innes was happy about that, considering what had happened when she went out with Wynda.
The stone and thatch cottage was one of the largest in the village. From the outside, it appeared that it was well cared for. Before they left, Jinny told her that the women in the castle believed Bryce was very generous in settling Teva here comfortably after he decided that she was no longer needed at the castle.
Teva had been waiting at the open door when they arrived. She knew they were coming. And there was one thing the old woman wanted to talk about: Shona’s death. That suited Innes, for the sake of her sister.
“That’s why we couldn’t find her grave in the family crypt?” Ailein asked.
“Aye, damn them all,” the woman snapped. “Buried out in the cold with her unborn bairnie. Sometimes I think I hear her.”
Innes sat and listened, reminding herself that this was her sister’s query.
“But why would they say it was suicide?” Ailein asked. “Who would decide such a thing, if it weren’t true?”
“Fingal, curse his bones. False, blackhearted priest. It was Fingal,” Teva barked. “Said he knew her as he’d confessed her often enough. He buried her in unconsecrated ground. Put her out in a shallow grave with nothing to mark where she lies. Just like a dog.”
“That’s a serious accusation to make against a priest,” Ailein said.
“The devil take him. He’s no priest, but a son of Satan,” the woman fumed. “And what’s worse, that man came with us to Girnigoe. Aye, Shona’s welfare was entrusted to Fingal. He was to be her protector. He was to make certain she received what was agreed upon.”
“So you served her for many years.”
“Aye. Many fine years. Never was there a lass like her. I raised Shona from the time I took her from the arms of her wet-nurse. I did everything for her. I saw her grow through the years. I watched her lose both parents, God rest their sainted souls. And we came to Girnigoe together.” Teva no longer saw them. As if lost in her memories, she stared at the peat fire burning on the hearth as she spoke. “She was a breath of fresh air in that ancient pile of stone. She infused life into everyone she met. She taught these barbarians what a real lady—”
“How did the priest justify himself?” Innes interrupted. “The family could not have been happy about such a decision.”
The woman’s eyes cleared. She looked at Innes. Her face hardened. Then her gaze fixed on the gloves Innes wore.
“Are you cold, m’lady?”
“Nay, I am quite comfortable.” Innes slowly removed her gloves and tucked them into her belt. “You haven’t answered the question. The laird would never have accepted such a judgment unless he believed the priest was correct.”
Teva stood and picked up the basket, taking it to a table near the window. With her back to them, she emptied out the contents one by one, taking her time.
Ailein had warned Innes of the possibility of unpleasantness before coming here. After all, she was the laird’s new wife. She’d replaced the woman Teva obviously adored. No matter what the topic of their conversation might be, she knew this visit would be somewhat strained. Right now, however, the older woman appeared to be dismissing them.
Innes opened her mouth, but Ailein took her hand. They looked into each other’s eyes. Her sister reminded her that she still wished to find out more. She didn’t want Teva to ask them to leave.
“Teva,” Innes said, trying another tack, “they say Shona was a striking woman.”
The praise captured the old woman’s attention. “Striking? There wasn’t a bonnier lass in all Scotland. And when she grew up, there wasn’t a more beautiful woman.”
“So she was fair then?”
The old woman took a deep breath and nodded. “Hair so light that it rivaled the rays of the morning sun. Eyes so blue they put the summer sky to shame.” She reached into the neckline of her dress and drew out a locket. “Hardly anyone knows, but this treasure was painted the year before we came to Castle Girnigoe. Shona’s mother gave it to me on her deathbed—as a gift, for my promise to always look after her daughter.”
She opened the locket in front of the two sisters but held it out of their reach. They were allowed to look but not touch.
The years had been rough on the piece. The image was faded beyond recognition.
“This is watercolor thickened with gum arabic,” Innes commented. She was more interested in the process than the person depicted.
“It wasn’t any Arab that painted it. Two monks passed through on their way to the shrine of St. Brigid in the west. One of them was a painter. Why, even he said he never saw a more beautiful child.” Teva pulled the locket away and tucked it into the neckline of her dress.
“I can see she was,” Innes said. “In fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a likeness more striking than this.”
Ailein arched a brow at her.
Innes continued. “Shona arrived at Girnigoe with the intention of being the next laird’s wife.”
“Not just the laird’s wife. She was to be the countess of Caithness. She planned to make Castle Girnigoe the center of culture in the north.” Teva sat down again.
“She must have been . . . well, distraught when the news of Conall’s death reached her.”
“It was hard, to be sure. Her grief was fierce—like the rest of the clan—but she survived it.” There was a small shrug. “Conall was so in love with her. But he had his chance. She was ready to marry, but he put off the wedding so many times, running off to do battle instead of fulfilling his promise to marry her. After Solway Moss, Shona didn’t want to wait a year or two and let Bryce play the same game as his brother. She reminded him of his obligation and demanded the terms of the marriage agreement be met.”
Innes took her sister’s hand again. She was relieved to see Ailein’s heart ached for her husband. He’d married because of duty.
“So they married,” Innes asked quietly, “but how long was it before the news came that Conall still lived?”
“Shona and Bryce married in March. The news of Conall arrived in November.”
“That must have upset her again. Surely, she had to feel something for the man for whom she’d been intended, and now she was married to his brother.”
“Aye, m’lady, she was upset. But not for the reason you’re thinking. She thought . . .” Teva stopped, catching herself.
Innes realized she could finish
the sentence. That marriage had nothing to do with love . . . for either of the brothers. Teva was about to say that Shona thought she was going to be countess. Now she was not. And that was what upset her on hearing about Conall.
Innes thought of how much Conall already meant to her. For her own sake and her sister’s, it relieved her that love and affection didn’t seem to play any part in the decisions made. At the same time, every life was precious and two had been lost—and for what?
“You said she wouldn’t end her own life. What do you think happened?” Ailein asked gently.
“Murder. And I don’t think it; I know it.”
It was clear now why the old woman was no longer welcome at Girnigoe. Innes exchanged another look with her sister. “That is a strong accusation.”
“Aye. I know it. I’m not a fool.” The woman set her jaw stubbornly. “My mistress was an angel, but she had her enemies, as I’ve said already.”
“Who would do such a thing?” Innes asked. “And why? What could anyone hope to gain?”
Teva looked away a moment, then her gaze moved from one sister to the other.
“If I tell you the truth and you go back to the laird, he’ll have me thrown out of here.” There was a quaver in the old voice. She realized that she might have already said too much. “I’ll die cold and alone on the moor. I’ll have no clan or kin to take me in.”
“We came here to see you because we wanted to hear you,” Ailein assured her. “Whatever you say will stay with us. I’ll not repeat this to the laird. You have my word on that.”
The woman’s gaze fell on Innes, who nodded.
A heavy silence hung in the air for a few moments before Teva finally spoke. “It was one of three. But to speak truly, it could be any of them . . . or all of them together.”
“Continue,” Innes ordered. “You need to explain.”
“Lachlan,” Teva said. “The man is old and lame. He has no skills, no abilities that warrant him being the steward of such a place as Girnigoe. And he steals.”
Innes saw her sister open her mouth and then close it. Ailein wanted to defend the steward, but she realized it was best to let Teva continue.
“My mistress planned to have him replaced,” Teva added. “He knew it.”
“You’re saying that he may have killed her, even though it was Bryce and not she who would make that decision.”
The woman’s jaw hardened. Obviously, she did not like having her word questioned. “Bryce respected Shona. He listened to her.”
“As he should,” Innes said, deferring to her. “Who else?”
“Wynda, of course.”
Innes bristled. Stern as she appeared, Bryce’s aunt had shown her and Ailein nothing but kindness since they arrived. Wynda was competent and ran the household with an iron fist, but most of all, she loved the Sinclair brothers as if they were her own sons.
“Why Wynda?” Innes asked.
“From the very day we set foot in the castle, Wynda never once tried to hide her dislike of my mistress. Their relationship only worsened over the years.”
“Not liking someone is a long way from murder.”
“Aye, but the woman saw that her bitterness was about to come back on her. You see, Wynda knew she’d be sent back to that convent her father had exiled her to when she was younger.”
“What exile?” Ailein asked. “What do you mean?”
“So you don’t know about her past?”
The conversation was going astray, and Innes suddenly questioned their decision to come here. Already she understood why the Sinclairs didn’t want Teva living among them. The woman’s words were like a snake’s poison.
“When Wynda was just a lass, she ran off with a man that her father didn’t approve of. She was carrying his child when the laird caught up to them.”
“How would you know such a thing?” Innes asked.
“I’m a Sinclair, too, remember. On Shona’s side of the clan, everyone knew about the disgrace Wynda brought on her folk,” Teva said smugly. “Her father killed the man and sent her off to a nunnery. Had her bairn there—a son, they say—but they took him from her. She never saw him again. She would have rotted there if her brother hadn’t sent for her. He needed her when Conall and Bryce’s mother died young.”
“What was Shona doing with this knowledge?” Ailein asked, her voice rising. “Bribing her? Tormenting her? Threatening her?”
“My mistress treated Wynda no worse than she deserved to be treated.”
“All of this is nonsense,” Innes cut in. “Those two lived for years in that castle. If you knew about Wynda’s mistake—if that’s what it was—everyone else must have known as well. And people have their differences. That is no reason for murder.”
“If you get any of those tight-lipped Sinclairs in that castle to talk to you, they’ll tell you that Shona and Wynda had a terrible argument the day my mistress died. Right in the Great Hall, it was. I was there, and it was ugly.”
“What did they argue about?”
“My mistress thought—and rightfully so—that it was foolish to pay a colossal ransom to get back Conall. The reports came that he was barely alive,” Teva said proudly, as if she’d been consulted about the decision. “Wynda started screaming like a madwoman. Called my mistress horrible names. And she threatened to kill my sweet lass if she ever said such things again.”
Ailein took Innes’s hand. Innes wanted to get out of here. They’d accomplished nothing by coming here, except to become angry.
“Whom else do you suspect?” she asked, squeezing Ailein’s hand and letting go. “Who is the third person?”
“The priest.”
“What animosity would he have for Shona that would drive him to murder her? You said he was brought here to look after her.”
“He never approved of anything she said or did.”
Innes shook her head. “This is too much.”
“He sided with Wynda in every disagreement. His allegiance wasn’t with his own people but with these Girnigoe Sinclairs. And he went to my mistress’s room that day. He could have done it.”
Ailein stood up, motioning to Innes that it was time, and walked toward the door.
“Thank you for talking to us,” Innes said, going to Teva. She wrapped her hands around the woman’s thin fingers.
“We’re truly sorry for your loss. It had to be very difficult. It appears that you’ve lost a loving mistress.”
Innes flinched. She closed her eyes for an instant to tolerate the pain.
“Justice will come,” Teva said, rising. “Her killer will be exposed. As sure as God above watches us, justice will come.”
Ailein led Innes out of the cottage, and the two walked together to where the Sinclair warriors waited with the horses.
“It made me sick to listen to her,” Ailein said.
Innes nodded. “But she believes everything she says.”
“You saw something else, didn’t you?” she asked. “When you took her hand.”
Innes looked back at the cottage. “Teva has had a stick laid over her back, and more than once. Shona used to beat her.”
Chapter 16
Jinny paused inside the doorway to the East Tower and put a hand on Innes’s arm.
“To be honest, I was a wee bit nervous when he walked right up to me, with his wild look and . . . Lord, the size of him!” She giggled like a lass of fifteen.
“He is imposing, I’ll grant you that. But why—”
“But such a man, he is! Quite handsome when you look at him close. Those eyes, they just draw you in. And those scars. He’s seen life like few do. Why, I couldn’t breathe. I stood there, mute as a stone, just staring at him. He had to ask me twice before I found my voice. What was I to say but, ‘Aye, m’lord. This way, m’lord.’ I tripped on my own feet twice leading him up here.”
Innes went up the stairs with the older woman at her heels. Jinny had been waiting for them in the Outer Ward and grabbed Innes as soon as she returned fro
m the village with Ailein.
“But why did the earl want to get into my room?” she asked.
“I cannot say. Sworn to secrecy, I am. Besides, I’d not spoil it.”
Innes’s mind raced, trying to imagine why Conall would want to come up here.
“Did I tell you how polite he was? Talked to me like I was a lady of quality.” Jinny put a hand to her heart when they arrived at Innes’s door. “By the Virgin, I’d never tire of waking up to the sight of that man’s eyes and shoulders and—”
“You sound like a woman in love, Jinny.”
“How could anyone not be?” the older woman answered coyly. “Aren’t you?”
She was. But she wasn’t going to admit it to Jinny. Innes pushed open the door, realized what he’d done, and immediately sighed with pleasure. A small table was set up by the window, with two chairs beside it.
“A chess set. He is so . . .” She stopped, not wanting to say too much in front of Jinny, who was watching her as if it were her own gift to Innes.
She crossed the room. This was an even finer set than the one he kept in his own chambers. She removed her gloves and picked up one of the pieces.
“Did you see the chairs?” Jinny prodded. “Finer than any you’d find in the North Tower, I’ll be bound.”
Innes held the chess piece in her palm. It was carved from walrus ivory. Half of the pieces were stained red; all the major pieces depicted human figures. The knights rode horses and held spears and shields. The rooks were ferocious-looking berserkers furiously chewing on their shields in their eagerness to do battle. The pawns were smaller, with rounded tops and runelike designs carved on them. She ran her fingers over the board of inlaid wood, a treasure on its own.
No one had ever given her gifts like Conall Sinclair. He couldn’t read her mind, but he knew how to make her heart glow.
She put the piece back on the board and went to her writing table.
“Jinny, I need you to go to the West Tower and ask for a man named Duff.”
“I know Duff.”
Taming the Highlander Page 14