by Rue Allyn
Colin grasped the big man’s arm, pulling him to a halt. “I am nae certain I want that stinking English bastard in my home.”
“English or nae, Colin, your wife will nae forgive you if you allow him to drink himself to death.”
“My wife will do as she’s told,” he snarled.
Robert snorted in mid swallow, choked, and spewed ale as far as Colin’s chest. The look on his face must have been comical because both Robert and Ranulf fell to laughing loudly enough to split timber.
Colin boxed Ranulf’s ear and considered it payment for the dish of jealousy Ranulf had served all the way from Strathnaver to the tabhairn. “While I find his horse, get him sobered up enough to ride. I’ll nae spend the night picking him up and putting him back in the saddle time and again. If he falls off once we start out, he’ll either freeze to death in the snow, or you’ll take care of him on your own.”
Colin stalked out the door and around the building to where the tabhairn’s small stable stood. Grateful for the silence and the solitude, he took his time saddling Robert’s gelding. Either Robert should become an actor or he really was drunk. Would he be able to relate what he’d seen this night with any sense? ʼTwas important to know who, if anyone, had shown up looking for the man with the white feather. Or had Robert been so submerged in his tankard, he would nae have noticed if a traitor had come and sat in his lap?
Colin shoved the thoughts aside when he heard footsteps shuffling across the snow-packed yard. The stable door opened and the sour stench of vomit entered along with Ranulf and Robert. The latter’s arm was draped across the big man’s shoulder. Ranulf had Clarwyn by the waist and was dragging him along.
“Phew, did you have to bring the entire tabhairn in with him?” Colin complained.
The big man dumped Robert into the straw at the gelding’s feet. The drunken man moaned. “You need not toss me about like a tabard. I’m not made of stone, and that hurt.”
“Shut your mouth. ʼTis nae more than you deserve for emptying your stomach all over my favorite jerkin. The leather came from Cordoba and was chewed by a convent full of virgins to make it supple. I’ll never get the stink out of it.”
Colin choked back a laugh but could nae resist taking a dig at the big man’s vanity. “Nae doubt ʼtis your favorite because you’ll nae get any closer to having a virgin’s mouth on you.”
Ranulf glared at him, placed a fist on each hip, and jutted his chin forward. “Says the man who is nae even wed to his brother’s widow and still acts the cuckold over her. Or is it that you’ve fallen for her copious charms and fear you may have cause for the jealousy you claim is an act?”
In the midst of helping Robert to his feet. Colin stared at Ranulf. The man was nae joking. “What ails you? Does my wee jest so offend you that you must insult me with the suggestion that I might care for Sorcha MacKai?”
None would tell him what he felt about Sorcha or anything else. Keeping his face blank, he hefted Clarwyn into his saddle, and, using a short length of leather taken from a hook on the wall, he tied his friend to the saddle, thus preventing any falls.
Ranulf brushed at his stained, smelly jerkin with disgust. “You know verra well that clothing is nae a joking matter with me. I’ll nae leave here until I’ve cleansed myself and my clothes of stink and muck.”
Leading Robert’s horse, Colin headed for the stable doorway. He paused as he came face to face with Ranulf. “Suit yourself. But know that peace between Marr and MacKai is nae a joking matter for me. I’ll nae have my friend’s rudeness keep that from happening. You insult Sorcha at your peril. Do so again and I’ll be forced to teach you and anyone else a lesson in good manners.”
Ranulf sniffed. “You could try.”
“Let us pray I dinna have to. Now, I’m taking Robert home. Clean up and join us or nae when you’re done. We’ll talk tomorrow, and may Saint Andrew let cooler heads prevail.”
He walked into the cold night air, Ranulf fuming behind him. Finding his own horse, Colin mounted and took up the reins to Robert’s gelding then headed for home and Sorcha. A warm fire, a warm woman, and the calm privacy of their chamber called to him as naught had for more than ten years. He was sick at heart over wrangling with Ranulf. Things would be better once the traitors were found and the letters from France secured. Then he could clear the air with his friend and settle his feelings for Sorcha.
“You can untie this infernal strap and give me back the reins to my own horse now.” Robert’s querulous remarks stole Colin from his thoughts of Sorcha and what remained of the night ahead.
He pulled the horses to a halt, dismounted, and walked over to Robert, who was picking unsuccessfully at the knot securing him to his saddle.
Colin pushed his friend’s hands away. “So you were pretending to be drunk all this time? How did you manage to vomit on Ranulf and why?”
“Sorry, I was very drunk. I could not help myself and got sick all over the Scottish ox without intending to. However, I felt much better by the time you got me onto my horse.”
Colin loosed the knot and removed the strap. “Yet you said nothing? He could have come with us and heard your tale of events in the tabhairn tonight.”
Clarwyn stared down at him. “Would you want to ride all the way to the stronghold with Ranulf in a pother over a spoiled jerkin that probably never came closer to Cordoba and a convent full of virgins than Edward I of England has come to conquering Scotland, much though he may have tried?”
How could a man so recently insensible with drink manage such a sentence? Perhaps the English did have some talents. “I’ve nae desire to be anywhere near Ranulf when his precious clothing has been harmed. The man is more vain than all the courtiers in England, France, and Scotland combined.”
Robert nodded and took up his reins. “Then let us be on our way. I’ll tell you what occurred at the tavern. You can decide what to tell Ranulf and speak with him tomorrow, as you said.”
Clarwyn kicked his mount into a walk. Colin stared after him then rode to catch up, still puzzling at his friend’s words. Why would he need to choose what to tell Ranulf? They were united—were they nae?—in their desire to block Edward Plantagenet’s plans for dominating Scotland.
• • •
Night still darkened the sky when Sorcha heard the key turn in the lock of the earl’s chamber door. Colin! She tossed off the coverlet and rose from the chair she’d pulled close to the hearth. She hadn’t been able to sleep for worry. Curse Ranulf for putting doubts about Colin into her head and herself for her weakness. She didna want to believe Ranulf. She didna know how to trust Colin, but until she could determine truth from lie, she must pretend.
By the time she faced the door, Colin had closed and locked it once more then doffed his cloak.
She stroked her braid. “Was the plan successful?”
“Nae.” He shook his head and walked forward to stare into the fire beside her. “We knew ʼtwas doubtful.”
She nodded and sighed. She should be grateful he didna touch her. “What will you do?”
“I dinna know.” His shoulders slumped, and he turned to stare at her, anguish written in the droop of his mouth and the tilt of his head.
“What?” Clutching her braid, she took a step backward. “What’s happened?”
“Why did you lie to me and say you’d never seen this ring?” He held out the hand wearing the inheritance ring.
She frowned. “I dinna lie. I never saw that ring before this night.”
Colin sighed and sat on the hearth. “I canna believe you. Weeks ago, I found the ring stuffed inside your mattress.”
She moved to stand before him. “You searched my things and kept silent all these weeks,” she accused. “Why nae lock me in a dungeon and be done with this? Why waste your time persuading me to help you—against my better judgment? Why seduce me into your bed—which, fool that I am, I allowed despite the certainty ʼtwould cause naught but pain? Why all of that, if you canna trust me, have nae trusted me from t
he first?”
She flung herself away from him, but he caught her hand.
“I wanted to trust you.”
She snorted and looked down at where his thumb rubbed her knuckles. “You dinna work very hard at it if you searched my belongings without my permission. Much as you think I am the liar, you are the one who lied to me, kept secrets from me, and set me up to look guilty the moment you stepped from behind that tapestry. Now let me go.”
She lifted her hem and took two steps.
He dropped her hand. “Dinna leave, Sorcha, just hear me out, please.”
It was his wooden tone and the “please” that made her halt. She didna wish to hear what the blackguard had to say. But if she were in his place, she’d hope for him to at least listen if nae believe.
She moved to lean against the bedpost facing him, folded her arms across her chest, and stared at him. “Well?”
He told her his concern that Brice or one of the traitors might have hid something in her belongings was the excuse he used for searching them. He described his dismay when he realized that the Marr wealth might go to Clan MacKai. Even if justified, Colin couldna allow innocents in Clan Marr to go hungry because of the crimes his father and brother committed. “Do you nae see, muirnean? I believe you had cause to steal this ring.”
She rolled her eyes. “You should have known I had nae cause to lower myself to the level of your brother. Nae cause to ally myself with my enemies unless desperate. ʼTis too great a leap from finding to accusing. I am nae a thief. I tell you again. Brice never wore that ring while I was with him. If he had it at all, he may have hidden it in my pallet when he knew he was dying and I was nae in the room. I doubt he had it, because ʼtis nae the kind of thing he would keep silent about. ʼTis more likely that Lady Agnes took the ring from your father.”
“While possible, and I concede she is capable of it, nae proof exists that she stole it.”
Sorcha straightened, balling her fists at her sides. “Just as there is nae proof I stole it. You will have to decide what you believe without proof.”
Colin hung his head. “God forgive me, I canna. But I will take nae action on this either. Whoever stole the ring, I have it now, and the truth will out.”
Sorcha stared at him. How could he still nae see the truth? Disbelief soured her stomach. “Then we’ve nae more to talk about. I’ll bid you goodnight.” May you rot in hell with your murdering brother.
“Nae, Sorcha.” Colin moved to block her escape. “We do have more to discuss.”
“With so little trust between us, what could we possibly wish to share with each other?”
“We must find the traitors. We will find them.”
She pushed away from the bedpost and paced the room. “How can you believe so? We’ve been trying to identify our spies for weeks. We have only vague suspicions and one false letter to show to Coillteach when he arrives. For all we ken, the chamberlain has destroyed the letter. Nothing has changed, despite all our efforts. ʼTis almost as if someone anticipates what we try to do and finds ways to block or divert us.” ʼTwas as close as she could come to accusing Colin outright. Confess, she prayed. Say something that will make false Ranulf’s hints and suspicions.
“All you say is true.” He walked to her and, before she could read his intention, swept a kiss across her cheek. Once that caress might have comforted, now it agitated. Had he been using her passions against her all along? She turned her back to him.
“However,” Colin continued, “even if we have naught better to show Coillteach, he will help us, and we’ll capture the traitors. They will give up all they ken once they believe they can bargain for their lives instead of facing the headsman.”
She swept around, fists on hips and chin in the air. “Are you certain? What if Coillteach doesna believe you—just as you doubt me despite my vow to the contrary? What if he suspects you of treason—just as you suspect me of theft? What if he blames you—as you blame me?” She skirted the dangerous topic of his loyalty to Scotland, giving him a chance to tell her the truth himself.
“I have worked for him for years. He trusts me. He trusts my judgment. You know this, so why the sudden doubts?”
She paced away again then faced him, shoulders hunched in doubt. Suddenly weary of dancing around the subject, she decided to risk all. Maybe if she could dispel all of the treasonous suspicions, he would be able to believe her—just as she needed to believe him. “I had the strangest conversation with Ranulf just before he left with you last night. I had thought you wanted him here. Nae one told me of any change to your plans.”
Colin studied her with narrowed eyes. “I did want him here. You are nae safe until this ruse is over and done and Clan Marr knows the truth. What did he say to you?”
Ranulf said ... I ken he ... he is your friend, but, well, I fear you may be mistaken in him. He accuses you of being the traitor.” She lifted her chin again.
Colin snorted. “You jest.”
“Nae, I dinna.” She straightened to her full height. If she was going to have it out with Colin, she would nae cower. Whatever the result, she would face it head on. And God have mercy on them both.
His gaze narrowed even more.
“You make nae sense. He is my best friend. We have fought side by side in many a battle. We share the same hopes and dreams for Scotland. For years, we’ve both served Lord Coillteach’s efforts to protect Scotland. If Ranulf betrays Scotland, then so do I.”
“But ʼtis exactly what he said to me. He said, you are nae what you seem to be, and I should nae let you deceive me. He claimed you arranged for Brice to be poisoned and for Alex to be drowned.”
Colin lost color in his cheeks and lips. His eyes went wide and his mouth slack. Then ruddiness flooded his visage, his eyes turned flinty, and his mouth snapped shut. He shrank away from her without moving at all.
“Tell me everything, every word, action, look that passed between you during this ... conversation.”
She told him exactly as the conversation had unfolded. Reviewing the events, she became more confused. In one context Ranulf’s every word made sense. But looked at differently ʼtwas only evident that the knight maligned Colin to no purpose. ʼTwas the only instance she could recall that Ranulf had expressed any real concern for her. She’d taken him in dislike at their first meeting and suspected he felt the same. A man did nae do favors for a person he disliked without motive. What could be gained by working so hard to convince her that Colin was a villain?
By the time she finished, Colin had crossed both arms over his chest and looked at her with raised brows.
“Is that all Ranulf said? That some among Scotland’s Guardians imagine I might commit murder and treason simply because I have one English friend?”
Confused, she blinked at him. “When you put it like that, it sounds like mere spite, but Ranulf certainly presented it differently.”
Colin rolled his eyes. “Ranulf is nae always clear and concise. He often speaks in a way that obscures his meaning. Usually he tries to cover such lapses with humor. Did he nae make any sort of joke?”
Could that remark about men’s empty promises to women have been in jest? Ranulf’s ambiguous humor at the expense of others ʼtwas one of the things she disliked most about the big man. “He did make a half-laughing reference to the ways in which men deceive women by promising anything then doing exactly as they please.”
“There.” Colin waved a hand in the air and bent his head. “’Tis obvious you misunderstood the whole conversation.”
Sorcha frowned. She had nae misunderstood. “I dinna believe so, Colin. Ranulf’s expression, his entire demeanor was in dead earnest, and he was nae smiling.”
His jaw clenched, and he glared at her as he stepped forward. “Ranulf is too true a friend to play such a trick. I’ll nae hear another word against him. Do you understand me?”
She gulped. “Aye, Colin, I understand perfectly.”
“Excellent.” His jaw and stance relaxed, and he m
oved to circle her shoulders with his arm. “We have both had a long night. Come to bed now, and we will take a ride tomorrow. We’ve been too long cooped up in this chamber, and are perhaps too close to our problems to see them clearly.”
“Nae” She slid away from his grasp. She needed time to herself if she was to try to be pleasant and open of mind. “I will ride with you on the morrow, but for tonight, I will sit in the chair by the fire, since we didna yet bring my pallet back. I am restless and wouldna disturb your sleep.” Colin believed his friend was joking; Sorcha thought Ranulf in earnest. Was being alone with Colin unwise? Only if he was the traitor Ranulf painted. She prayed that the night would help her decide whom to believe.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
By mid-morning the next day, Colin followed Sorcha up the steep path through the forest on the east side of Strathnaver stronghold. Their destination was the sheltered glen, split north to south by a shallow burn, where all Strathnaver’s animals—horses, sheep, and a few shaggy cows—wintered. The valley was shielded on all sides by hills and cliffs high enough to keep the snow to a minimum and thus grasses available to the animals even in the deepest cold.
Specifically, they aimed for an overhang on the north end. Beneath that overhang was a warm spring on a spot of higher ground. From that vantage point they could view the entire valley. At any season the spring kept the air comfortable, and the overhang provided privacy.
As children he, Brice, Raeb, and their friends had spent many a day in the glen away from the watchful eyes of parents and tutors. But he and Sorcha were nae children any longer.
The tension roused by her accusations against Ranulf lingered like frost in the winter air. Suspicion, deception, distrust, frustration at their failure to capture even one traitor had them both on edge. He hoped some time away from his clan, his men, and the entire tainted atmosphere of Strathnaver might allow him and Sorcha to talk and listen without restraint. To come to some understanding of who was enemy and who was friend.
The path broadened as they topped the crest of the circling peaks. Sorcha drew to a halt, and he came up beside her.