She couldn’t give the wine to Cairn after she had drawn attention to it. She would no doubt be suspected of participating in the murder. There were many opportunities for an assassin to strike and she was certain they would try again. Next time she must not allow her emotions to dictate her actions.
"That is my cup," said Cairn as he reached for the goblet again. Verena handed him the drink, but before he could grasp it, she allowed the cup to slide through her fingers, spilling the wine into the floor rushes below.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. She made a show of leaping back so the wine didn’t soil her gown. Cairn was not so lucky and some of the liquid splashed his hose. "I am terribly sorry. The lad said he would return with another pitcher, but I was impatient."
"It is fine," said Cairn, irritably dabbing his tunic with a cloth.
"I think I shall retire for the night."
She excused herself from the hall, retreating quickly before Cairn or Ivone could question her unusually clumsy behavior. Verena scanned the faces of the assembly, but the servant was nowhere to be found. Jon had also slipped away, probably in search of this new agent. If Owen had orchestrated the attempted assassination, he wisely kept out of sight.
Chapter 38
A surprisingly warm sun bathed Verena’s cheeks. It reminded her of the glorious summer she spent in Southern France with the Duc de Ravenna. Every morning she had risen early to bathe in the ocean and feast on imperfect breakfast rolls, deliciously dripping with butter, yet deemed unworthy to grace the lord’s table.
Suddenly her door flew open, slamming against the stone wall with a loud bang. She sat up in bed, grabbing the knife under her pillow, and ready to fling it at her attacker.
"Come with me now!" Cairn growled.
"Milord? Is something wrong?"
Verena scrambled from the bed. She threw on a dressing gown and slippers, never loosening her hold on the knife.
"Aye."
Cairn grabbed her arm and propelled her through the door. She had to run to keep up with his long strides as they hurried toward the feast hall. Several knights were gathered around the head table, grimly examining the floor and shaking their heads.
"What is it?" she asked, but she feared she already knew. The floor rushes had not been cleared since the night before and two enterprising mice had snuck into the castle while everyone slept. Their corpses littered the floor where she spilled the wine. It was obvious they had been snacking on the liquid.
"Why did you keep me from drinking the wine last night?"
"I spilled it."
"Did you know it was poisoned?"
What should she say? If she told him the truth, Cairn would be furious, but what if she lied and the assassin struck again? Verena hoped as long as she carried his child, Cairn wouldn’t harm her, but she couldn’t be certain. If he knew the truth, would Cairn still want the bastard child of a spy?
"I didn’t know, but I suspected."
"What did you suspect?" Fergus demanded. "Why did you not say anything?"
The clan had come to respect Cairn during his months as their laird. None of them would see him harmed, especially not after the sudden death of his father and the coming war with Langthorne.
"I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that the lad was unfamiliar and he only refilled your glass. Did you question him?"
The knights exchanged looks. They were expecting Gundy to send his army, not an assassin, and had not been vigilant against such a threat.
"We found the boy outside the village. His throat was cut."
"Oh my!"
"It was Gundy, milord," Fergus said. "I knew that whoreson was still plotting against you. There will be another attempt. I am sure of it. If he could turn Jon …"
"Jon, the new stable boy?" She tried to keep her voice as even as possible. What happened after he left the hall? He probably confronted the lad, but that was no reason for Fergus’ accusation. Verena was closer to Jon than anyone else on Hadran’s team. She had to find a way to help him.
"Aye. We found him sneaking away from the lad’s body. He said he was innocent, but he was holding the bloody knife!"
"I don’t believe it. Why would he do such a thing?"
"I bet they were conspirators. They fought once they saw laird Cairn didn’t drink the poison and Jon stabbed him …"
"We do not know who was behind this attack," Cairn lifted one hand to stop the argument before it could turn into a shouting match. Everyone was upset by the poisoning and Jon’s possible involvement. Cairn worked hard to give the clan the illusion of stability, but now everything was crumbling apart. "Jon will remain in the dungeon until I am assured of his innocence."
"Fergus is right. There may be another assassination attempt. We must be vigilant."
The knife was still clutched in her hand. She surreptitiously slipped it into the sleeve of her dressing gown. She and Jon were the only outsiders in the household and Jon was now being held for suspicion of murder. He was so sure no one would suspect him of working for Gundy, yet now he was locked in the dungeon.
She didn’t believe Jon was behind the murder. He had no reason to kill the lad and unlike Owen, wouldn’t act so rashly on his own. Unfortunately she couldn’t tell Cairn that. If they suspected him, despite her pleasant demeanor, the clan could very easily begin to suspect her.
"Milord," she asked. "Do you truly believe Lord Gundy is behind this?"
"He is certainly capable of such a deed and has the most to gain from my demise. I don’t know how he gained access to my castle, but I will ensure other assassins are not so lucky."
"How? There are so many people working here. You cannot watch everyone."
"We will do our best. Don’t worry. Last night I was not expecting an attack. Now I know better."
With Cairn’s soldiers on guard, an assassin would have a harder time reaching him, but it was also one more obstacle in her path to finding the treasure. Discovering the silver seemed less likely as time passed.
Would Owen make an attempt on Cairn’s life without contacting her first? If he was behind the attack, he should have notified her first. But what if Owen didn’t orchestrate last night’s attack? Who else would benefit from Cairn’s demise?
"Milord," she asked suddenly. "How did your father die?"
Cairn shrugged. His mind was clearly on other matters.
"He was sick for a long time. Six months ago he passed away."
"What were his symptoms?"
"What difference does it make?" asked Cairn. "Ivone nursed him."
Chapter 39
The McPherson dungeons were not the most elaborate she had seen. They consisted of a large room for prisoners and a smaller one for the guards. Rather than separating the inmates, Cairn’s ancestors derived great pleasure in having them watch their companions being tortured, knowing their turn was coming soon.
Elaborately sinister machines were stacked in one corner of the large cell, making her grateful she couldn’t fathom their uses. They were all covered in a thin layer of dust and rust. Though not old, it had been several months since most of the equipment was used.
Jon was fast asleep on a dirty straw mattress, but he came instantly awake when he heard her pick the lock.
"Who is there?" he asked warily. "Tell me quick or I’ll bash your head in!"
"Tis I, Verena," she answered, puzzled. The lad sounded terrified, but as she lifted her candle, she couldn’t see any bruises on him. What was he afraid of if not Cairn’s questioning?
"’Tis good to see you! I thought they were coming for me."
"They? What happened last night?"
"I followed the boy, as you asked. He went directly to see his contact, not caring if half the world saw him –he was obviously not a real spy. At first I thought Owen sent him, but he didn’t meet Owen. I couldn’t get a good look at the other man, but I would have recognized Owen’s bulk anywhere.
"He asked if the boy delivered the poison and the lad said yes. He thought he was so clever fo
r escaping your questions and was foolish enough to boast about it. Quick as lightning, the other man took out a knife and slashed his throat.
"I must have made a sound because the killer ran away as fast as he could. The lad was still alive so I tried to stop the bleeding. I hoped he could tell me who sliced him. That’s when Fergus came along and I didn’t get a name. Isn’t this a fine mess?"
"You think they will come after you here?"
"Certainly," Jon replied, calmly cleaning his fingernails as he imagined an unknown assassin making an attempt on his life. "They know they were seen and the whole castle must know why I am in the dungeon. They’ll think I saw their face and try to silence me."
"I wish we could contact Owen. He would see you to safety."
"Don’t worry about me. I’ll find Hadran and bring him here. If anyone can straighten Owen out, it is him."
"I hope you are right."
The spies slowly tiptoed up the winding stairs. It was late enough that most of the castle was asleep, but she laced her guard’s wine with a sleeping powder just in case. The same powder was liberally added to the prison guard’s soup during the evening meal.
They decided not to attempt the front gate and instead made their way to the Old Lord’s rooms. They could easily sneak out of the castle through the secret passage. Unfortunately someone had other plans for them.
A large shadow detached itself from the wall as they neared the entrance to the dungeon. The two spies separated, giving each other enough space to fight. Knives were clutched in their hands and before she could think, she instinctively blocked the upward thrust of a shiny metal object.
If she were less trained, the knife would have plunged into her belly, killing her and her unborn child. That knowledge enraged her. She struck back furiously, slashing at her attacker with ruthless precision.
They stepped backward through the open doorway, falling under the light of a hall torch and she gaped in surprise. This was no man striking her with the skill to match Hadran’s best agents. A woman stood before her, dressed in tight hose and a nondescript black tunic. She was older than Verena, with a face ravaged by a hard life. Her affinity for drink was evident in bloodshot eyes. It took she but a moment to assess her attacker, committing her face to memory. Though older, this woman more than matched Verena in skill.
"That’s her!" Jon exclaimed as he recognized the woman. "She’s the servant that visited Ivone."
What did Ivone need with such a ruthless agent? This was much more serious than watching Gundy’s spy. This woman was a killer, perhaps the same killer that murdered Cairn’s would-be poisoner.
Her head was reeling and the assassin quickly took advantage of her distraction. Seeing an opening, she cut Verena below her rib. If not for the thick woolen gown, she would have been seriously injured. The wound was not deep, but it was painful.
Jon tried to sneak behind the woman, but she was wise to that trick and danced around them, positioning them so they couldn’t attack at the same time.
"Who are you?" she demanded. This woman was not part of Hadran’s team so couldn’t work for Gundy. But why else would she try to assassinate Cairn? Their knives scraped loudly against the stone as they parried and struck at each other. The woman kicked a brazier of coals into Verena’s path to distract her. It wasn’t long before the noise drew the attention of the awakening castle and she heard running feet.
"Jon, run!" she demanded, parrying another deadly attack. "Take the passage and find Hadran. He’ll know what to do."
The assassin struck at Jon as he ran past, but she punched her hard across the face, making her miss her target. She was only dazed for a moment and then redoubled her efforts, seeing part of her quarry escape.
"You’ll pay for that."
Verena shivered at the words. She thought she was used to ever-present danger, but the certainty in this woman’s voice sent chills up her spine. She meant what she said. A flurry of strikes was sent toward her face. It took all of her concentration to block them. She was dimly aware of the knife slicing into her forearms, but was too focused on the fight to feel pain.
Cairn appeared then, followed closely by several knights. He gaped in astonishment at the skilled knife fight. She could sense his confusion and swore profusely. How would she convince him of her innocence now?
"You chose your allegiance last night," continued the assassin. "But you chose the wrong side. I look forward to seeing how Gundy reacts to your betrayal."
Abruptly the woman switched tactics and swung low toward Verena’s legs. The knife sunk deeply into her skirts and the soft flesh of her thigh. She then spun on her toes, wrenching the knife from her leg, and flinging it at Cairn as she charged past. She was much faster than she anticipated and she barely managed to clumsily push the assassin, making the knife clatter harmlessly against the stone wall.
"After her!" Cairn yelled, but she knew it was too late. This woman doubtless had several places to hide and more than one way to get out of the castle. Once she was out of sight, they would never find her.
The hall was quiet following the knights’ departure. The adrenaline slowly ebbed from her body and she felt the lateness of the hour and her exhaustion. She had to grab the wall to keep from falling as the pain in her thigh and forearms flooded her.
Cairn stood before her, watching her with a mixture of horror and disbelief. No matter what she said, he would never believe she was the innocent she claimed to be. Verena said her brother taught her how to use a knife, but no mere guard would have skills like hers. Nor could she explain her presence in the dungeon. Once he discovered Jon was missing, she would be in serious trouble.
"Milord," she began slowly, not knowing what to say, but knowing she must say something. "I can explain …"
"You work for Gundy."
That was a fact she could no longer deny. There was no way to salvage her persona, no pretty lie to make Cairn love her again.
"I saved you last night," she pointed out, but Cairn cut her off. That one act had come after weeks of deception.
"Why? Isn’t that why you are here? Did you kill the boy?"
"Nay! The woman did. She came to kill Jon because he recognized her."
"Who was she? Why would she try to murder me?"
"I don’t know."
That was the flaw in Hadran’s reasoning. He thought it was safer to tell his agents only what they needed to know—safer for Gundy. If they were captured, there would be little danger to Gundy’s plans. But now she had no way to save herself, no useful information to barter for her freedom. The treasure was still lost and she knew few details about Gundy’s plans. She didn’t even know the identity of the assassin, and had little more than conjecture to tie her to Lady Ivone.
If she told Cairn the truth about his stepmother, would Cairn believe her, or think she was lying to save herself? Knowledge of Ivone’s deceit was all she had gained during her stay in Scotland, but how would that help her?
The cut on Verena’s thigh was deep. Even without looking, she knew it would require stitches. She no longer had the strength to stand and slowly lowered herself to the floor. Would he let her die? Would he let their child die in anger?
"Everything you said was a lie."
"I’m not lying now. Please …"
"Don’t say another word! No matter what I do, Gundy’s treachery follows me. No longer!"
Without warning, he scooped her into his arms and carried her down the twisting stone staircase. He unceremoniously dumped her on the same straw pallet Jon had used only a few minutes before.
"Do not speak," he cautioned, digging his fingers painfully into Verena’s arms. "Do not move. You betrayed me before and I forgave you. I never thought the mother of my child was capable of such deceit."
"You still want our child?"
She couldn’t help the hopeful catch in her throat. He knew she betrayed him, knew she was his assassin, but he still wanted their child. She didn’t know what to make of that.
&
nbsp; "It is my child!" he growled. "And I’ll ensure a devil like you never comes near him."
Chapter 40
The hours passed slowly in the dark, cold dungeon. Verena didn’t know how long she lay on the straw pallet, creating plans and then discarding each of them as silly. Cairn had stripped her of almost everything but her gown. She had one long hair pin, tucked into her elaborate coiffure, but that wouldn’t pick the dungeon lock.
Long ago a nervous Roselyn had seen to her wounds. She was clearly puzzled by Verena’s change in circumstances, but knew better than to ask with Cairn standing over her, glaring daggers at them both. She thought briefly of having Roselyn sneak out a message, but was unsure of the maid’s loyalty. Even if she agreed, she had no one to send a message to. Jon was headed to England and she hadn’t seen Owen in days. There was no one left to help her.
At least Cairn left her a candle. That was a courtesy she didn’t expect, but it was also torture. Hadran repeatedly told his agents to never accept defeat. There were ways out of every situation. Verena spent her time carefully examining the cell, looking for any tool that might help her escape. Unfortunately the cell was impenetrable and instead of spending the night resting, she exhausted herself with a futile search. She finally admitted defeat when her candle grew low, but was afraid to extinguish it, lest the dungeon’s rodents decide to pay her a social visit.
The next morning Cairn discovered her curled in a ball on the uncomfortably thin pallet, caught in an exhausted slumber. He shook her awake, ignoring the dark circles beneath her eyes which mirrored his own. He probably spent the night searching for Ivone’s assassin.
"I need answers."
Verena blinked to clear her mind. She had not slept well since arriving in Scotland. Her days were spent with the clan while the nights were filled with Cairn’s energetic lovemaking and searching for the treasure. Even the days locked in her chamber were spent working on projects to win the clan’s support and scheming with Jon. She had maintained this brutal schedule because of training and the knowledge that it wouldn’t last forever. Perhaps because of the baby or her injuries in the knife fight, her body chose this moment to rebel. Opening her eyes was a Herculean chore and though she sat up, she couldn’t seem to focus.
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