Stewart snorted, evidently seeing sense in this argument.
Isabella rode her horse in circles around Murdoch, her course making him dizzy. “You will apologize to my sister, and show honor to her husband by bringing him with care to Kinfairlie’s hall. You shall beg my brother’s forgiveness before we retrieve the relics – for they are all together.”
“Amen,” Stewart said softly. “Some soul in this matter finally speaks sense.”
“No,” Murdoch insisted. “We shall not go to Kinfairlie together. I will not step into the lion’s den. You presume much about your brother’s response.”
“I know him!”
But Murdoch was skeptical. He feared that Isabella’s brother would not hear his plea quickly and he had precious little time to waste. It was a week’s ride to Seton Manor and only a fortnight until the new moon. He fixed her with a determined glare. “You will tell me where the relic is, and I shall collect my brother’s property. When Stewart is safely on his way home, then and only then will I surrender to your brother’s justice. Tell me where it is.”
“No,” Isabella replied. “It is her plan to see you condemned, I am certain of it, and must be part of her ploy to claim you forever.”
Murdoch did seize the horse’s bridle then. “What did you see?”
“I saw the Fae queen who would claim you.” She reached out and seized his wrist, pushing back his glove. “The one who put these marks upon you.” She regarded him with curiosity. “Tell me, can she claim you more readily if my brother executes you? Does she pick her victims from the dead?”
“Does she know that you saw her?”
“I do not know. I fear I gasped when I saw the orb.” Isabella winced. “It was not, perhaps the wisest course, but it is done.”
That chill seized Murdoch once more. “What orb?”
“The one with a dying heart trapped within it.”
Stewart crossed himself and turned away, though Murdoch knew he still listened.
“Her entire court disappeared in the blink of an eye and the strangest wind arose.”
Murdoch turned away, bile in his throat. He could not believe Isabella had put herself at such risk.
Actually, he could believe that she would act on impulse to correct what she perceived to be a wrong.
But she did not know the powers of the Elphine Queen. She did not guess what price she might pay. She did not understand how vengeful that Fae queen could be.
Murdoch had to ensure Isabella’s welfare.
Even now, he saw the Fae gathering on all sides, their eyes glinting with either malice or anticipation, and felt a chill emanating from the ground. Isabella could not be safe within this forest, not so long as the Elphine Queen hunted him.
He held fast to the horse’s reins and made one last appeal. “Tell me, Isabella, tell me where the relic is hidden.”
“I will not,” Isabella replied. The woman did not back down from a fight, that much was certain. She stood in her stirrups as if to dismount, much to Murdoch’s horror. “Lift Rhys into my saddle and I shall walk back to the hall.”
“You will do no such thing!” Murdoch declared with heat. “You will ride for Kinfairlie, you will ride there now and without delay. You will accompany your sister to the hall, and you will arrive there before it falls dark.”
Isabella lifted her chin. “I will not abandon Rhys here.”
“He will not be harmed,” Murdoch insisted.
“I will not abandon you here,” she added softly.
His lady was cursed stubborn. “You have no choice, for I will not go with you and you are not safe here.” Murdoch gestured after the departing party, when she opened her mouth to protest again. “Go see your sister.”
“You promised me...” Isabella began to chide and Murdoch lost his temper.
He would say whatever was necessary to see her safely away.
“I used you, exactly as you first imagined,” Murdoch said, interrupting her. “I gained information from you and there was no other intent in my mind than that.” Isabella stared at him with dismay. “And if you imagine that my intent was honorable, then that was your error. The sole thing I desired of you was news of the location of the relic, and since you will not tell me of that, I have no further need of your company.”
He cast the reins at her and slapped the flanks of her horse hard. Given the scent of blood, the beast was only too happy to race down the road.
“Murdoch!” the lady shouted, but even she could not halt that steed. “You lie! You lie and this matter is not done between us!”
And that, Murdoch feared, was the truth of it.
* * *
Chapter Eleven
Stewart chuckled. “A fair attempt, lad, but she sees through your fabrication well enough. Perhaps it comes of being able to see the Fae.”
Murdoch sobered at that. “I would have the lady forget me.”
“I fear ’tis too late for that, lad.” Stewart peered at the younger man. “Is she right? Is it a curse that has haunted this journey?”
Murdoch nodded. “I did not think you would believe me, if I told you the truth.”
The older man nodded. “Fair enough, lad, but I have witnessed enough in my time to know that not all is seen by all eyes.” He cleared his throat. “I know you mean well to send the lady away, but she is not fooled by your hasty lie. I would dare to suggest to you that such spells as the one that snares you can be broken – by both persistence and affection.” Stewart held his gaze. “It is not without reason that the bards sing of the power of true love.”
Despite the cold that crept through his body, Murdoch found encouragement in the older man’s words. “I have thought that the Lady Isabella might be my salvation,” he admitted. “The thought of her does keep the darkness at bay.”
Stewart nodded. “It is best a man follows his heart in such circumstance. Even in failure, the intent then has been honorable.”
Murdoch frowned. “I was wounded when the Elphine Queen took me into her abode, Stewart. The wound festered and I was fevered.”
“The wound the earl spoke of,” Steward mused. “You are not lamed because it was healed by the Fae.”
Murdoch nodded. “She has threatened to return me to that state should I spurn her.” He sighed and met the concern in Stewart’s gaze. “Shall I bind my lady’s fate to that of a man who might be lamed?”
“You do not know that!”
“It is much to assume a woman would still accept a man in such a state, had she the choice.”
Stewart pursed his lips as he considered this. “And you will never know unless you ask her.” He arched a brow. “I think the risk a small one, lad.”
Murdoch surveyed at the fallen knight and his men, considering Stewart’s advice. Despite himself, he felt a new surge of hope, a hope that he could triumph over the Elphine Queen with Isabella’s aid.
He knew then with clarity what he must do. “You must leave Kinfairlie, Stewart. There is a storm brewing and no telling what shall result from it. Already the boys have learned what they should not. Take them and depart immediately for Seton Manor.
The older man gave Murdoch a quizzical glance. “What will you do?”
“I ride for Kinfairlie.”
“Into the lion’s den,” Stewart said with a smile.
“To beg the forgiveness of my lady and her assistance, for she holds the key to all.”
Stewart grinned and clapped his hand on Murdoch’s shoulder. “Oh, lad, I am glad to know that you are indeed your father’s son.”
They embraced, then parted, though only Murdoch feared it might be for all time.
* * *
Just the recollection of the sight of Rhys’ blade swinging so close to Murdoch’s gut was enough to make Isabella feel faint.
Murdoch had not looked hale, even the hue of his flesh changing to grey. His eyes were so dark that one could not discern the blue and he had not fought with his usual vigor. Indeed, it had seemed that he could sca
rcely even lift his own blade.
Isabella did not doubt that Murdoch had sent her away for her own safety. As much as she admired that impulse, she was not prepared to stand aside.
How could she retrieve the relic herself? Would that break the spell?
She caught up to Madeline and the others just before Kinfairlie village. Madeline was clearly frightened and she held her baby tightly. Dafydd was bound to Rhys’ saddle, though he did not cry. He appeared to share some of his father’s grim determination. A maid rode one horse and held the reins of the one bearing Dafydd, presumably because Madeline did not dare to halt so that the boy could be untied. The other two horses stayed close to those with riders, although their reins trailed on the ground.
“Isabella!” Madeline exclaimed. “Why are you outside the gates?”
“I went for a ride. I was returning when I heard you cry out.”
“There are brigands in Kinfairlie’s forest! You should not be alone.” It was a mercy that Madeline was sufficiently upset to have no further questions.
Isabella asked questions of her oldest sister instead. “What happened? Are you well? Are you injured?”
“We were attacked on the road. Where is Rhys? And Trahern? And the boy Norton?” Madeline’s tone rose higher as she scanned the empty road behind them. She reached out and clutched Isabella’s hand. “Tell me what you saw. What happened behind us?”
“I do not know,” Isabella lied. “I heard you and I saw you, so I followed behind. I am certain that Rhys will be fine.”
Madeline gave her a look, one that indicated that her sister knew that was only part of the tale. She looked back at the road behind, and swallowed. “I must get the children inside the hall, and see the horses tended. It is cold and becoming late. Bronwen, will you ride ahead and ensure that all is made ready for us?”
“Aye, my lady. Will you give me the babe?”
Madeline shook her head. “She is warm where she is. Take Dafydd with you. He will like the stables and the ostler may remember him.” She slanted a determined glance at Isabella. “I would speak to my sister alone.”
Isabella recognized that her moment of reprieve had passed. Madeline had calmed enough to discern that there was more to the tale – and Isabella’s older sister had the look of a woman who would have the truth and soon.
* * *
Rhys awakened when the stars were appearing overhead. His nose hurt and there was blood caked upon his face. His head throbbed and his cautious fingertips found a lump on the back of his skull.
Beyond that, he was uninjured.
He heard a groan and moved toward the sound with some care. It was the mercenary Trahern, similarly bruised. The cut on his shoulder had been only a flesh wound and it already closed.
The older man grimaced. “A pox upon thieves,” he said, pushing himself to a sitting position. “The lot of them should be rounded up and executed.”
“But it seems we have not been robbed,” Rhys noted.
Trahern scowled. “Simply beaten. I thought Kinfairlie was a safe holding.”
“As did I,” Rhys concurred. “And we have paid for our assumption.”
Another groan revealed the location of the squire Norton. “I am sorry, sir,” he said at the sight of Rhys. “I tried my best.”
“And you fought well enough. We were surprised and beset from all sides.” In truth, Rhys blamed no one but himself. On the one hand, he wished he had sliced the vagabond in half when he had the chance. On the other, Isabella’s concern for the man made him wonder if he might have come to regret doing so. He did not expect to change his view of the bandit in the forest of his own volition, but Madeline had been known to urge Rhys to a new perspective.
He glanced toward the distant keep of Kinfairlie. “I only hope my lady is well.”
Trahern coughed and winced, holding his gut as he eyed Rhys. “And you, sir? Are you hale enough?”
“I shall survive,” Rhys admitted, his gaze darting over the shadows of the forest. All was quiet and still there. He did not doubt that the bandits were well-hidden, or that they would know this forest better than he. It would be a fool who would seek them out at night.
Daylight, however, was another matter.
Indeed, a desire for vengeance already burned within him. They three were alive and not so badly injured, but the matter could have ended much worse. And Madeline! Never mind the children. If any of them had borne a scratch, Rhys would never rest until the villain was brought to justice.
Rhys looked again at the keep of Kinfairlie, its windows lit even at this hour. He feared that Madeline was frightened and guessed that if she were well, she would be watching for him, despite the hour. He had best hasten to the keep to see her worries set to rest.
Why had the thieves let them live and keep their possessions? Had they stolen the horses? Did they simply not want to compound their crime by killing? Rhys doubted that Alexander’s court would exonerate them either way. Even as thieves, they could be executed for humiliating the laird’s guests.
But more importantly, how did Isabella know the brigands?
* * *
There was a tremendous fuss over Madeline’s arrival, and much concern over the assault in the woods. Isabella found it difficult to refrain from sharing what she knew – although no one seemed to expect that she knew any detail more than Madeline, she was irked that they insisted upon calling the deed a robbery when there had been no theft.
It was unjust. Murdoch was condemned by them all, though he had done little wrong. Isabella yearned to defend him when he was unable to do so, but knew it would only draw undue attention to her.
It was certainly the kind of risk Murdoch himself had advised her to avoid.
Instead, she savored the knowledge that Murdoch had tried to keep his vow to her, that he had tried to intervene to avoid injuries, that he cared sufficiently for her welfare to send her to safety. She worried about the progress of those marks upon his flesh and the darkness that claimed his gaze. She feared the Elphine Queen’s intent and could not forget the sight of the orb that held a beating heart captive.
She could not endure it if he was lost to the dark queen and she never saw him hale again. It was clear the trap closed and quickly.
How could she be of aid? This was knowledge she would not find in books, or even from Eleanor. If any knew it, they would be unlikely to share it for fear of attracting the attention of the Fae. Why had the smith muttered about selfless deeds? Isabella yearned to ask him more, but she was trapped within Kinfairlie’s hall as surely as if she had been locked away in a high tower. The morn, which would be her first chance to go to the village, seemed too far away.
Meanwhile, Kinfairlie’s hall bustled with preparations. Alexander himself led a party of men to the forest to search for Rhys, although Eleanor was much concerned by his departure so late in the day. A bath was summoned for Madeline and the evening meal was hastened to the board, children were fussed over, and whispers abounded. The Fae that Isabella had seen earlier were absent, and she wondered whether they had already moved their spoils to Ravensmuir.
Would she be able to think of an excuse to go there in the morning? Would it be too late? Would it be better that she went to the smith or Ravensmuir? What about Murdoch? She might have talked to Elizabeth, but her younger sister seemed determined to evade her.
The women sat in the hall long after the board was cleared, waiting for the return of Alexander and his party. There was no pretence of doing needlework that night and little chatter. They sat close to one great fire, their concern palpable. Isabella considered Elizabeth, sitting opposite her, and knew that any word she said would be overheard by all. She yearned for a moment of privacy, but suspected she was not to have it before the sisters retired.
First the men would have to return. Eleanor might have paced, had Moira not forbidden as much.
Madeline did pace. “I hope Rhys is well,” she said yet again, glancing toward the portal as she bit her lip. She
had made the same comment at least a dozen times, but this time, it yielded results.
There was the sound of hoof beats in the bailey and every soul in Kinfairlie’s hall rose to their feet. Moira could not halt Eleanor from striding to the portal. Anthony stood at his post near the door, bowing low as Alexander strode across the threshold.
Eleanor surveyed her husband and exhaled with obvious relief.
Alexander’s eyes flashed with fury even as he doffed his gloves. “Isabella!” he roared. He offered his hand to Eleanor, coaxing her to take the seat Anthony had abandoned. His expression remained grim.
The bottom dropped out of Isabella’s belly when she saw Rhys fast behind her brother, his expression no less formidable.
“Rhys!” Madeline ran to her spouse, who caught her close. He glared at Isabella over Madeline’s shoulder and she knew he had told Alexander what he had seen.
“What madness is this?” Alexander demanded of Isabella. “Rhys says you were there, with the renegade!”
“Nay, she gave him aid,” Rhys corrected. “And called him by name. Murdoch.”
The women of the household gasped, turning to consider Isabella.
“Is this true?” Alexander asked, his words dangerously low. “Aye or nay, Isabella?”
The entire hall was silent, every gaze locked upon Isabella.
Isabella was not going to lie. If she had any chance to clear Murdoch’s reputation with her family, this would be the start of it. “I was there,” she admitted. “I heard Madeline cry for Rhys and when I arrived, Murdoch was trying to halt his squires from robbing Rhys.”
“Rhys says otherwise. Rhys says the brigand, the man you call Murdoch, was trying to rob him.”
Isabella shook her head. “No. He pledged to me that he would halt these attacks.”
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