A Beautiful Lie (The Camaraes)

by Stephanie Sterling

  “Graem?” Lachlan choked, and then he cursed viciously under his breath. He straightened his kilt and made towards the door, but his captain looked like he still had something on his mind. “What is it, Ross?” he asked slowly, instinctively knowing that he was going to hate to the answer.

  “Sir, we’ve detained the culprit responsible for this cowardly act,” the captain revealed slowly. Lachlan couldn’t ignore the way Ross’s eyes travelled darkly towards the bed where Muria was still sitting.

  “A Cameron? One of our guests?” he sighed heavily, already knowing what the answer would be. He waited to hear the name confirmed.

  “Aye, sir,” Ross nodded grimly. “Ewan Cameron.”

  “What?” Lachlan breathed in disbelief,

  “No!” Muira cried from behind him. Lachlan shot his wife a look, which clearly said, no matter what she might be feeling, that she was to be silent.

  “You’re sure?” he murmured thoughtfully.

  Ross looked affronted. “We found several suspicious bottles in his room, sir,” he informed the tanist coldly. “One has been conformed to contain hemlock, by the doctor.”

  Lachlan swore again. “And Ewan Cameron’s confessed?”

  “Of course not,” the captain frowned.

  “He didn’t! He wouldn’t! Lachlan you know that Ta-”

  “Where is he being held?” Lachlan demanded of Ross, interrupting his wife as though he couldn’t hear her.

  “In the dungeons, naturally,” Ross wrinkled his nose in distaste.

  Lachlan was caught between two opposing desires. He wanted to go and see his brother-in-law, question him, find out what he could while things were fresh, but he also wanted to go and see Graem… the man had been like a second father to him, if he was… dying, then Lachlan wanted to be there.

  “Muira, call your maid and get dressed,” he said, surprised by how calm his voice sounded. “We’re going to see the Laird.”

  “Sir, do you think-” Ross began doubtfully, but was silenced by one look from his tanist.

  “Where are the other two Camerons?” he asked gruffly.

  “They’ve expressed a desire to leave, sir. They want to return to Castle Cameron.”

  “But they haven’t?” Lachlan barked, suddenly fearing that Tavish had slipped through his fingers.

  “No, sir, they’re still here,” the Captain nodded.

  “Keep them here, Ross,” Lachlan growled.

  The other man nodded darkly. “You think they plotted it as a group, that they were all involved?”

  “Something like that,” Lachlan muttered.

  ..ooOOoo..

  Lachlan took Muira with him to Graem’s bedside, primarily because he was afraid of what might happen to her if she was left alone… As perceived by the rest of the castle, she was the sister to their Laird’s would-be assassin. He had a horrible sense that Muira wouldn’t be safe if he wasn’t there to protect her. He feared that she would be blamed.

  He guessed that his wife was bright enough to realise that this was the motive for his actions, and was part of the reason why she was loathed to stand more than a few feet away from him. She hadn’t said anything to him, but Lachlan could see the questions about her brother that were burning in her eyes every time she looked up at him.

  “How is he?” Lachlan demanded of the guard that was stationed outside the Laird’s formal chambers. The man shook his head gravely, and then frowned harshly in Muira’s direction when he noticed the woman accompanying the tanist.

  “Sir-” he began, but Lachlan had already barrelled past him, dragging Muira along behind him.

  “I don’t know that I should be here,” Muira whispered quietly. “Per-perhaps I could go and see Ewan?” she asked hopefully.

  “You’ll stay here, where it’s safe,” Lachlan barked, more harshly than he’d intended. To his surprise, Muira fell into a dutiful silence, hanging her head and following him without saying another word.

  “Get that witch out of here!” shrieked a voice. Lachlan tensed, his jaw set as his mother stormed out of Graem’s bedchamber towards him and his wife. “I mean it, Lachlan!”

  “Lower you voice,” Lachlan snarled, in such a tone that his mother actually hesitated.

  “I mean it Lachlan-”

  “So do I,” he said coldly. “Muira will stay here where it’s safe. You will see that she is kept safe,” Lachlan commanded unflinchingly.

  His sister Bridghe had just popped her head out of the Laird’s bedroom, and he impressed this command upon her too. His sister at least nodded, his mother was shaking with the indignity of being ordered around in such a manner by her own son.

  “You know what people are saying of course?” she spat. “That you are some how involved? That Graem was going to name someone else as tavish because of your marriage choice, so you had your brother-in-law dispose of him before he had a chance to do so?”

  Lachlan stared at his mother as if she were a stranger to him. “Get her out of here,” he said coldly.

  “S-sir?” one of the guards stammered, while Mrs MacRae gaped at her son. She looked almost as though he had physically struck her down.

  “Just get her out of my sight,” he barked, causing his mother to flinched. She had paled to a nasty grey.

  “Lachlan, I didn’t mean-” she squeaked, but her son wasn’t listening, he’d caught hold of his wife by the arm and was tugging her behind him as he walked into the Laird’s bedchambers.

  “Lachlan?” Muria gasped, as she was dragged along at a quick pace.

  She couldn’t believe what he had done, how he had spoken to his mother… for her. Her husband made no answer to her gentle query however, and Muira didn’t dare press him. In fact, she actually almost careened into his back when he stopped abruptly on the other side of the large wooden door.

  The room was large, and dimly lit, the curtains had been drawn and a few sputtering candles gave the only light. Muira peeked out from behind Lachlan nervously, and glanced about the room. Her eyes were instantly drawn towards the large double bed that dominated the chamber, and the figure lying in its centre.

  Muira felt a tug at her heart that she hadn’t been expecting at the sight of the old Laird lying stricken in his bed. Graem had always been undeniable good to her. It was dreadful to see him in such a state. But it was no less dreadful to see the affect the sight had on her husband.

  Lachlan looked truly stricken. He walked jerkily to the side of the bed, leaving Muira hovering in the doorway, where Bridghe came to stand next to her, catching hold of her hand in a sisterly manner, while Lachlan dropped to his knees beside the old man.

  “Sir?” he choked.

  Graem seemed to open his eyes and turn his head towards the voice. “Ah, Lachlan, my boy,” he murmured, his voice was nothing more than a soft sigh. “I have been waiting for you to come.”

  “Waiting, sir?” Lachlan echoed hesitantly, as if he really didn’t like what those words implied.

  “Aye lad, to say my goodbyes.”

  “With all due respect, you aren’t going anywhere yet, sir,” Lachlan argued fiercely.

  He seemed to think he could keep Graem in the mortal realm by the strength of his willpower alone. Muira chewed her lip as she watched him. She wanted to move forward, to lay a hand on his shoulder, but something kept her rooted in place. Her time for comforting him would come later, at the moment he was the one being strong for Graem… or was he? The old Laird, so still and lifeless he seemed to be standing at death’s door, was murmured something that Muira couldn’t hear, but which, incredibly, made Lachlan smile sadly.

  “Aye, sir,” he nodded, getting back up to his feet. “I’ll see to it straight away.” He bowed his head, and then walked towards the two women. He glanced at Muria. “You’re to stay here and attend him with Bridghe,” he revealed.

  “I am?” Muira gasped. “But-where are you going?” she asked, but she could tell just by the look on his face. “To see Ewan?” she pressed breathlessly. “Oh,
take me with you, I-”

  “No, Muira,” Lachlan growled, in a low dangerous voice that made his wife pause, but not quite abandon her plea.

  “But he’s my brother,” she whimpered quietly.

  “And that is why you must stay here,” Lachlan sighed, he brushed a kiss against the top of her head, and then he was gone.

  ..ooOOoo..

  “Where is he?” Lachlan asked, careful to keep his voice hard and unmerciful. The guard who was standing watch over the dungeons nodded his head in the direction of one of the cells. Lachlan followed the direction of the other man’s gaze and nodded. “Has he said anything?”

  “Confessed you mean? Nah,” the guard sneered. “Seems to think he’s innocent. Claimed not even to know what had gone on here this morning.”

  “Is that so?” Lachlan murmured heavily. “Let me in to see him,” he frowned. The guard gave a nasty smile and opened the cell door. Lachlan stepped into the small dark space and waited for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light.

  “Oh-it’s only you,” coughed a voice from the opposite wall. There was a pause, and then the raspy voice spoke again. “You know, strangely, this situation reminds me of something…” Ewan snorted sarcastically.

  “Still got your tongue I see?”

  “Aye. Missing a few teeth though,” the Cameron Captain parried back humourlessly. He did look something of a sorry state: with two black eyes, his lip split open and a nasty cut running across his cheek…

  “You know why you’re here?” Lachlan frowned.

  “I know why they say I’m here,” Ewan spat. “Something about poisoning half the castle, women and children along with the men? As if I’d do anything so dishonourable and cowardly! If I’d meant to murder your Laird then I-”

  “It might be prudent,” Lachlan interrupted harshly. “To think a little before you speak.”

  Ewan snorted, but he fell silent, shifting uncomfortably in the chains that bound him to the wall. His silence didn’t last long.

  “It was Tavish wasn’t it?” he muttered murderously. “Always sniffing around, up to no good, told me to watch my back after I let you have Muria,” Ewan continued, mumbling more to himself than the tanist. Lachlan raised an eyebrow, just a fraction, not enough for Ewan to see in the darkness.

  “You seem to be under the impression that I believe you to be innocent, Mr Cameron,” he said coldly, wondering if the guard was listening on the other side of the door.

  Ewan chuckled darkly. “Oh aye? So it’s like that is it?” he snorted. He looked gravely thoughtful for a moment. “If you execute me, will that save you from going to war and killing other Camerons?”

  Lachlan opened his mouth. He wanted to give Ewan some kind of assurance. They’d had their differences to be sure, but Muira’s brother wasn’t a bad man. However, he was all too aware that the walls had ears, and if he appeared in any way compassionate towards the prisoner then the clan really would believe the evil theory that his mother had spouted.

  Ewan didn’t wait for his question to be answered anyway. “You-you won’t let her come down here, will you, MacRae?” he asked hoarsely. “You’ll keep her safe? I know what people will think.”

  “Aye, I’ll keep her safe-”

  “And you’ll keep her away?”

  “That too,” Lachlan nodded.

  He withdrew from the cell, nodding at the guard to lock the door again, while his mind whirred. Graem had told him to go and speak to Ewan, convinced, even as he lay on the point of death, that he couldn’t have misjudged the Camerons so utterly, and that Lachlan would be able to draw the truth from the prisoner.

  Lachlan agreed with his Laird, up to a point-he hadn’t misjudged the Camerons, just Tavish MacEantach. But how he was meant to prove that… Lachlan didn’t yet know.

  “Sir?”

  Lachlan glanced up; Captain Ross was striding down the corridor towards him. “What is it?” Lachlan frowned.

  “Our two other guests are making quite a song and dance about wanting to leave, sir,” he sneered. Lachlan gave an unsurprised nod.

  “Aye, I thought they might. You’ve made it clear that they’ll be residing with us for some time yet?”

  The Captain smirked and nodded. “Their tanist seemed to accept it in due course, but the other man-” Ross frowned, as if he couldn’t quite puzzle something one. “Well, if I didn’t think they’d all been in it together his reaction when he was told he wasn’t leaving would have convinced me.”

  “Hmm,” Lachlan murmured thoughtfully. He didn’t think it would be too hard convincing people of Tavish’s guilt, but how was he going to persuade everyone that Ewan and Donaid were innocent? “I think I need to talk-”

  “Sirs?” squeaked a little voice.

  Lachlan frowned. “Liane?”

  “Yes, Mr MacRae, sir, it’s me.” His wife’s maid stepped out of the shadows in which she’d been standing and presented herself nervously to the two men. Ross shot Lachlan a questioning glance, surprised that the tanist was prepared to listen to the servant.

  “What’s wrong, Liane?” he pressed gently.

  “I-I wanted to know if it’s true, what they’re all saying about Master Ewan Cameron?”

  “It’s true,” Ross barked. “Now get out of the way, we don’t-”

  “Why do you asked, Liane?” Lachlan interrupted the captain, speaking gently to the trembling woman.

  “Well, be-because, everyone was saying that Master Ewan must have crept down to the kitchens sometime during the night-after the maids left last night and before they went back to work this morning?”

  “Aye, that’s right,” Lachlan nodded.

  “Well then-” Liane twisted her hands in her apron frantically. “You see, sirs, Ewan couldn’t have sneaked down to the kitchens then,” she mumbled.

  Lachlan and Ross exchanged a suspicious glance. “Why do you say that, Liane?” Lachlan coaxed.

  The maid raised her teary face to him. “Because he was with me,” she confessed, dropping her gaze to the ground. “I-I saw him in Mrs MacRae’s room the other day, and he recognised me last night. I’d turned my ankle on the stairs and he carried me up to my room, and then-” Liane’s cheeks were crimson.

  “He was with you all night?” Ross asked suspiciously, not batting an eyelid at the little sordid tale. “There was never a time when he could have slipped away?”

  Liane shook her head, looking flushed and breathless. “Oh, no sir, he was with me all night,” she said, turning crimson. “Besides the other girls would have heard someone leaving-the stairs are proper creaky, Captain Ross. June MacDonald curses something rotten if something wakes her when-”

  “If Cameron has such a solid alibi why the hell didn’t he say so?” Ross swore in confusion.

  Lachlan swallowed a smile. “Probably afraid we’d make him marry the girl,” he chuckled to himself.

  “Sir?” Ross frowned, not catching what he had said, but Lachlan waved his curiosity aside.

  “If Ewan Cameron was out of his room all night-” he began slowly, thoughtfully, and the Captain seemed to have reached the same conclusion.

  “-then one of the other two would have had the opportunity to plant those bottles in his room,” he finished for the tanist. “I thought it was strange that they hadn’t been destroyed… almost like someone had left them there to be found,” he mused angrily.

  Lachlan gave his head a silent nod. If they had been made alone, his accusations would have looked highly suspicious, but with the backing of the MacRae’s war chieftain, Lachlan was beginning to think that they might have a chance of seeing that justice was done and that Tavish was caught.

  “Thank you, Liane, you’ve been a great help,” he murmured distractedly, dismissing the maid. She hesitated for a moment, but that bobbed in a little curtsey and disappeared along the corridor.

  “What are you going to do about her?” Ross frowned after Liane’s retreating figure. “Dismiss her? Marry her to him?”

  “My wife
’s rather fond of her maid,” Lachlan said absently; Liane was the least of his worries. “I think we need to have a talk to our other two suspects, Ross,” he said carefully.

  “Right!”

  “Only-” Lachlan paused, wondering how much he ought to tell the other man. “I have reason to suspect that the man we want is Tavish MacEantach, therefore what I’d like you to do…”

  ..ooOOoo..

  “You understand your instructions?” Lachlan asked Ross quietly. The two men were standing outside the room where Donaid Cameron and Tavish MacEantach were being kept, under armed guard.

  “Aye, sir,” Ross nodded, smiling grimly.

  “Good,” Lachlan sighed. He looked at the two guards, and indicated that they were ready to go in.

  The chamber was one of the formal staterooms, lavishly decorated, and seldom used given that the Laird rarely left his own chambers. Lachlan gave him self a second to dwell on his dear old friend, before focusing his mind on the task at hand.

  Donaid had been sitting quietly in a chair by the unlit grate, looking serious and thoughtful. He got to his feet when he heard the men enter, and instantly asked after his cousin. Tavish, in contrast, appeared to have been pacing up and down by the window restlessly.

  “Ewan? Where is he?” Donaid pressed, when he wasn’t immediately given an answer.

  “Still alive,” Ross revealed bluntly. Lachlan saw the Cameron’s tanist give a little sigh of relief. He looked too young for his current woes.

  “We’ve decided we need to ask each of you a few questions,” Lachlan revealed slowly. Both Cameron men tensed with suspicion. “Mr Cameron, if you’d be so good as to accompany, Captain Ross? I’d like to speak to Mr MacEantach alone.”

  “Do you really think that’s necessary?” Donaid frowned, but Lachlan nodded.

  “Most definitely,” he breathed coldly, staring at the man by the window with barely conceal loathing.

  Tavish returned the stare without even attempting to conceal his hatred. Fool, Lachlan thought, knowing that Ross was too astute to have missed the look in the other man’s eyes. He nodded in the captain’s direction, waiting for him to lead Donaid out of the chamber before turning his full attention to Tavish.