“Aye, me an’ all,” said either Anne or Annabel. “But ye ken these lads, always spoilin’ for a fight. I’m fairly certain there’s money changin’ hands, as well.”
“Money?” Cicilia asked. “What do ye mean?”
All five of the other women exchanged dark looks, but it was Susan who finally answered. “Well,” she said. “It’s just a rumor, but they tend to be pretty accurate, at least around here. They say that there’s been a man walkin’ around the village, doin’ his level best to turn people against the Laird. Throwin’ aspersions on his character an’ his economic dealin’s both.”
“Aye, an’ wi’ some success!” the other Mary added. “Ye ken how angry people can get, an’ it’s nae hard to fill a man’s head wi’ suggestions when his pride is on the line. A little doubt here, a little confusion there, an’ suddenly ye’ve turned a reclusive Laird into a monster wi’ nae proof to the contrary.”
“Well, some proof to the contrary,” said the one who hadn’t spoken already, probably Annabel. She gestured at Cicilia. “But, an’ nae offense, that’s makin’ it worse in some people’s eyes. Nae only are ye a woman, but ye’re a part o’ the issue to some. There’s been all sorts o’ rumors…”
“I ken the rumors about me,” Cicilia said quickly. “But ye said about money?”
“Aye,” Susan agreed. “Well, ye see, nae everyone can be swayed with words. But this hooded man, whoever he is, has access to somethin’ else—money, an’ plenty o’ it. He kens who the respected folk are in this town, an’ we’re fairly certain he’s buyin’ them off to help spread his word.”
“To what end?” Cicilia asked in exasperation. “What on Earth could they be gettin' from all o’ this trouble?”
The first Mary shrugged. “Perhaps they wish to de-seat the Laird. That would explain why they’re goin’ out o’ their way to badmouth him and discredit him, o’ course. An’ he’s got nae brothers that I ken about, so it would leave the seat wide open.”
“Perhaps one o’ his soldiers, then?” Susan suggested. “Nae the Man-at-arms, I ken that much. He’s a good man.”
“One o’ his advisors? I dinnae ken how many he has, but they’re likely powerful enough to step in,” suggested the second Mary.
“Nae matter who it is, I’m afraid the fight he’s spoilin’ for is comin’ regardless,” said probably-Anne solemnly. “Me husband an’ me brothers are rarin’ to go, an’ they will nae listen to a word I have to say. I’m nae certain what poison has been dripped in their ears, exactly, but it’s nae a gentle one.”
Cicilia said nothing, sitting there silently with all of that information whirling in her head, trying desperately to sort it all out. So there was to be a fight after all? One so manufactured that someone had paid for it?
But why? Who hated Alexander so much? What had they said to drive the people into such a frothing rage?
Who benefits?
That was the question spinning in Cicilia’s head as the women’s meeting concluded, and she began to walk further into the town, barely paying attention to what she was doing. She needed to think this over, clear her head a little before she returned to the Castle to present Alexander with what she’d learned.
Who benefits if Alexander goes down?
She was wandering through the town when the words hit her ears that changed the course of her day—and, quite possibly, the course of the rest of her life.
“—at sunset,” a rough voice whispered from an alley. “When nae body at thon Castle is expectin’ it.”
Now on high alert, she pulled up her own cloak’s hood and edged down the side of the building, desperate to see the source of the words without being seen herself.
Two men stood down there, one tall and thin, the other—the one who had spoken—shorter, rougher, and stockier. The tall one’s face was hidden in his hood, and he was handing the short man a bag that rattled heavily as though filled with coins.
The wind blew heavily, and Cicilia grabbed her own hood to prevent it from falling down as she listened.
“They ken there’s an attack comin’, but they’re nae yet prepared,” the tall man said in an irritatingly familiar voice. However, Cicilia could not quite place it. “This is for yer troubles. Ye an’ yer lads have done an excellent job for the price I paid.”
Is this the hooded man that Susan an’ the women were talkin’ about? Is this the man who’s workin’ against Alexander?
The stocky man laughed coldly. “Aye, well, I’ve nae love for the Laird, an’ plenty o’ love for the coin. He rules wi’ an iron fist, an’ he needs taking down. An’ if the man who takes over is favorable to me an’ mine, well then, all the better.”
“At sunset, then?” the hooded man asked. “Outside the Castle gates?”
“Aye. I have thirty men from here, an’ seventy in total from the next two villages. We’ll storm the castle an’ take it without any worries, just like we promised,” the stocky man said, pocketing his money.
“Good,” replied the hooded man. “Good.”
Cicilia shivered, hearing the cold satisfaction in his voice.
“An’ yer sure ye’ll take over?” the stocky man asked once more.
The hooded man nodded. “Aye. I ken me place.”
The nod, combined with another gust of wind that suddenly blew strongly through the alley, dislodged his hood, revealing his hair and face.
Cicilia felt ice filling her veins and had to clap her mouth to prevent herself from screaming in horror as she realized precisely the answer to her question.
Who benefits?
Well, now she knew the answer, and she feared that Alexander was about to meet his death as a result.
Chapter 25
In Cauda Venenum
The Sting is in the Tail
Alexander knew that something was amiss the second that Nathair knocked on the door rather than simply walked in as usual, and it made his heart race.
Is this it? Has he come to tell me it’s happenin’ tonight?
Alexander, Catherine, and the children were all in the old playroom. Alice was teaching them all a complicated game of cards that Alexander was reasonably sure she was making up as she went along.
“Nay, Uncle Alexander, red beats black, but me three beats yer seven,” she said with a sigh just as the knock came.
“I’ll get it! This game is weird!” Annys chirped, jumping to her feet and hurrying to the door. “Oh! Nice to see ye, Nathair! I thought ye an’ Jeanie were out all day?”
“Aye, we got headed off some,” Nathair told her. Alexander stood, worry surging in his stomach, trying to keep it from his face. He was suddenly very scared of whatever the Man-at-arms had to say, but he would not show it, not in front of the women and children.
He’s nae smilin’. When Nathair is nae wearin’ a smile, ye ken somethin’s gone wrong for real. This is it. Can I even start to protect them?
“Everythin’ all right, Chieftain?” he asked in as neutral a tone as he could manage.
Instead of answering, Nathair turned to Catherine and the children. “Catherine, me Jeanie was hopin’ ye an’ Alice could maybe come help her. She’s lookin’ for the right material for gowns for the weddin’, ye ken, an’ was hopin’ ye could come into the village.”
Alexander knew that his sister was an intelligent woman. She understood that something was suddenly very wrong, and worry creased her brow for just a moment before she gracefully got to her feet and nodded.
“Aye, all right,” Catherine said smoothly. “We can play more later. Matty, me love, do ye want to come with us? An’ ye two O’Donnels are welcome too, o’ course. I ken Jeanie’s practically a sister to ye.”
Annys looked excited, but Jamie less confident. “I dinnae ken. I want to stay here an’ wait for Cil. She’ll be sad if we a’ go away to help Jeanie without her.”
“Aye, that’s right,” Annys said suddenly, looking at her brother and nodding. “Thank ye, Madame, but me an’ Jamie will stay here.”
/> Identical looks of stress crossed both Nathair and Catherine’s faces, but Alexander said, “Aye, all right. But ye ken where the best place to wait for Cicilia would be? Up in her rooms.”
The twins looked at each other. “We’re nae allowed to go into Cil’s room when she’s not there.”
“Aye, but I’ll tell her it was me idea,” Alexander told them smoothly, trying to cover it as much as possible. “An’ ye can set up a pleasant wee surprise for her for when she gets back. Perhaps a wee tea party?”
Both twins looked excited by the idea, and after a little more conversation, they agreed to follow Nathair off up into the residential wing.
Alexander stayed where he was, relieved that he could at least protect the children from whatever was coming. If the castle was about to be under attack—and he guessed from Nathair’s face that this was the case—then at least they would be furthest from the entrance. Nathair would post guards at the entrance to the wing, too.
Nae body who is nae supposed to be here will get in or out. It’s perfect.
He was amazed that he’d managed to remain so put together during this conversation. He hadn’t wanted to alarm any of the children by insisting the twins go with them, though the idea that the little ones would still be here worried at the back of his mind like a wolf with a fresh kill.
Catherine and his niece and nephew, at least, would be out of the Castle when the attack hit, but what of his men? His servants? What about the rest of his family?
There’s nae denyin’ that the twins are family, too, now. An’ Cicilia.
Cicilia. He hoped she had the foresight to stay away. Whatever she was doing in the village with her friends, he prayed that it would take her some time. Perhaps she would even run into Catherine and the bairns, and his sister would be able to keep her out. Maybe she’d be safe.
The door opened again, and Nathair walked in this time without hesitation. “Tonight,” he said without a word of greeting. “At the settin’ o’ the sun. They’re ready.”
Alexander nodded and grimaced. “I’d hoped it would nae come to this,” he said. “Are the men ready?”
Nathair nodded. “Aye. I’ve set to positionin’ them outside the gates an’ sent the servants into a lockdown in their quarters. I’ve doubled the guard downstairs an’ tripled it up in the residential wing. Nae body who doesn’ae belong here will be gettin’ in or out, ye have me word.”
Alexander walked over and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I ken I can trust ye, me friend.”
Nathair nodded. “An’ I ye. Ready for a fight?”
Alexander touched his bare shirt where his pin should be. In truth, he had never felt less prepared for a fight in his life. But he nodded, blue eyes shining with determination, and said, “Readier than I’ve ever been in me life.”
It was just before sunset when Cicilia finally reached the castle. She hadn’t ridden to the village, and she’d half-winded herself by running all the way back. She raced through the Castle doors into something approaching chaos. The entrance hall was swarming with young men dressed in fighting clothes, holding weapons, and discussing tactics.
Do they ken about the attack? Do we have hope after all?
She’d heard horses and men close behind on her entire rush up there and knew there was very little time before the mob attacked. Where was Alexander? She could not see either him or Nathair in the throng, and even if they knew there was an attack incoming, they couldn’t possibly know the extent of it all.
She grabbed one young soldier by the arm. “Where is the Laird?”
The soldier looked at her and paled. “Miss O’Donnel! Me Laird said ye were to go directly to yer quarters when ye entered.”
“Where is he?” she demanded again, a little more firmly. “I’m nae goin’ anywhere until I see him.”
The soldier gulped. “In the residential wing, givin’ further instructions to the guards. But he says ye are nae to take the main stairway; ye’re to take the back way directly to—”
“Thank ye,” Cicilia interrupted him. Before he could say anything else, she had dashed off in the direction of the main staircase. If that was where Alexander waited, then that was where she needed to be, too.
She took the stairs two at a time, feeling the physical exertion pulling at her lungs. She was fitter than most women of her age and status thanks to her years of farm work, but it still took her breath away how quickly she was rushing up the steep steps.
By the time she located Alexander, she could hear clanging from below as the first wave attacked. He turned away from the guard stationed outside of her bedroom to hurry down, then noticed her standing there.
The surprise on his face would be funny if this was nae so serious.
“Cicilia,” he groaned, slapping the heel of his palm against his forehead. “What in the world—could ye nae have stayed away? Never mind that now, get inside. The twins are already there.”
Cicilia shook her head fiercely. “Nay! Nay, Alexander, I cannae. I was lookin’ for ye, an’ ye need to ken about the attack—”
“I ken about the attack,” Alexander interrupted. “Nathair an’ me have kent for a while. We dinnae want to worry ye, an’ I’m sorry if that was the wrong thing to do. Ye must understand. I just want to keep ye an’ the twins safe.”
That emotional realization hit Cicilia so hard in the chest that she temporarily felt her breath taken from her lungs. When she gathered herself again, she said, “Catherine—Matthew—Alice?”
“Jeanie’s taken them to safety. The twins refused to leave without ye,” Alexander told her. He was speaking gently, but she could hear the impatience in his tone. A roar echoed up the stone walls of the staircase as, below, Nathair joined the fray. “They’re in yer room now. Go.”
“Alexander, ye need to listen,” she insisted. “Please, I—”
“I’ve nae got time to chat right now,” Alexander told her, the impatience more visible now. “Can ye nae hear that the fightin’ has started? I need to be down there wi’ me men, now.”
“Alexander—” she started, but her words were cut off as his arms were suddenly around her waist, hefting her up over his shoulder. He held her like that while she kicked her legs, so surprised she didn’t even remember to protest with words.
She let out a surprised yelp as Alexander cheekily smacked her rear just before he started to move towards her bedroom.
“Ye’ll be safe in yer rooms,” he told her, one hand resting on her buttocks as he carried her to the door. “Yer siblings are in there.”
He pushed the door open with his foot. The twins waited inside, and they both started giggling as they saw their sister hefted over Alexander’s shoulder like a pig at the farm.
“Ye found Cil!” Annys cheered as Alexander brought her inside and lowered her to the ground.
“I found him,” Cicilia protested. “An’ he will nae listen to me! Alexander, ye need to ken—”
He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her quickly but passionately, and pulled away. “Dinnae ye look so worried. There’ll be more kisses when I get back. We’ve got this under control.”
He pressed something into her hand, and she looked down to see his sgian-dubh, the knife he wore with his kilt. “Use this only if ye need to,” he warned her. “Stay hidden. Stay safe. Protect yerself an’ the bairns.”
“I—” she started.
“I love ye, Cicilia O’Donnel. I’ll tell ye again as many times as ye like when I return,” Alexander told her.
And then he turned, kissed both twins on the forehead, and left.
“Thomaes! Thomaes is behind this! He wants to bring ye down!” Cicilia cried after him as soon as she found her voice.
But the door was already swinging shut behind him, and Cicilia had no idea if he had heard.
He loves me. He loves me, as I love him. An’ I’ve nae idea if I’ll ever see him again.
Thomaes Cunningham had been plotting this day for more than a dozen years,
and at last, it was coming to fruition. Soon, he—not Declan, and not his fool son Alexander—would finally possess the power which he was owed. It had been a slow, painful protest, but now it was time to truly reap his rewards.
I’ve been patient. I’ve foregone a lot o’ progress in me life to make sure it all pays off. Nae wife, nae bairns. But who will nae want to wed me when I’m Laird?
And he knew who he would make his wife. The farm girl was rough at the edges, true, but she had an odd beauty about her. Her sharp attitude, her lovely figure…she’d be an excellent prize to claim after all of this was over.
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