“It’s mine.” Glenna’s shaking voice rang out in the hall. “The veil, it’s…I lost it several weeks ago.”
The king looked to Master Keane. “Do you recognize the thing as belonging to your daughter?”
Niall’s glance at the kerchief was full of disdain. “Audrey would never wear such a rag.”
The sergeant at arms finished his testimony. “There was no other evidence found that Master Cameron had taken Miss Keane somewhere on the grounds, my liege.”
Tavish spoke. “There was no evidence of it because I didn’t take Audrey anywhere. I was in the east tower all the night.”
Niall Keane took a ragged breath and stood once more. “There was no evidence of you taking her because you killed her and then had your servant dispose of her!” He looked to the king. “Frang Roy, a farmer of Roscraig, was found hanging dead near the cliff, my liege; blood on the path leading to him. Cameron had him buried and never told you. He drove the poor man to suicide for what he’d taken part in!”
This time James let the commotion in the hall go unchecked while he motioned for his sergeant to come near. The two conversed, and then the crier called the hall to order.
Vaughn Hargrave smiled at Tavish openly.
“Do you deny this claim, as well, Cameron?” the king asked. “It seems to me that you should be running out of excuses by now.”
Tavish could feel the noose tightening around his own neck. “Frang Roy was found dead yesterday before your arrival, my liege. I do not know the circumstances of his death. He was the source of much discord about Roscraig.”
“You took care of that inconvenience as well, did you not?” Niall Keane shouted.
Vaughn Hargrave leisurely rose to his feet. “If His Majesty will allow it, I feel I might shed some light on this sorrowful and dark scenario.”
James stared at Hargrave for a long moment, and Tavish thought there was a chance he would deny the man his say.
“If it is relevant, Lord Hargrave, proceed.”
“It pains me to hear Miss Douglas at all associated with the diabolical goings-on at Roscraig. I am sure she had no knowledge at all of Master Cameron’s plot. It was she who assisted in the search by discovering the one gown missing in Miss Keane’s wardrobe.”
James raised an eyebrow. “How is this relevant to Master Cameron’s guilt, Hargrave?”
“Because the gown missing was a special costume meant to be worn by Miss Keane at her wedding, Your Majesty. And it is common knowledge that Master Cameron’s true sire, Thomas Annesley, whom the court may see as a young boy in the portrait above you, murdered my daughter, Cordelia, on the eve of what would have been their wedding day.”
Rather than erupt in chaos, the crowd in the hall was horrified into silence.
“He did not kill Audrey,” Glenna’s voice rang out. Tavish turned to see her standing, her fists clenched at her side. “Tavish Cameron was outside my dying father’s door all the night, guarding us from the likes of your villainy.”
“Sit down, Miss Douglas. Your testimony has no weight in this matter.” James leaned both arms onto the table. “Are you suggesting, Hargrave, that Master Cameron has murdered that poor young woman in the same fashion in which you accuse his father?”
“I am, Your Majesty,” Hargrave said with a bow. “I beg your pardon for Miss Douglas’s sake—Cameron has filled her head with promises in light of her father’s illness, and has played to her gentle emotions. She knows not what she says.” Then he sat down once more.
The king looked into Tavish’s eyes, and Tavish could see the coldness there, the decision already made. He could hear quiet sobs in the hall, and he knew they belonged to Mam.
He was a dead man.
“Have you any rebuttal for this accusation, Cameron?”
Tavish swallowed. “I did not know Thomas Annesley,” he began. “I know nothing of his crimes or his guilt. I did not harm Audrey Keane. I never would. And, God help me, I don’t know where she is.”
The king leaned back with a sigh. “It pains me. A great deal, in fact,” he began, “to see such potential—”
The king was interrupted by a commotion in the back of the hall. He leaned his head slightly to the side to see past Tavish.
Tavish turned, and his knees nearly buckled at the sight of Captain John Muir in the doorway.
Audrey Keane stood at his side.
* * * *
Glenna’s hands flew to cover her cry of exclamation in the same moment that Niall Keane’s strangled shout pierced the air of the hall.
“Audrey!” The portly man ran toward his daughter and enveloped her in his sobbing embrace.
A shriek of dismay went up, and Glenna’s head turned to see a clutch of people bending over the collapsed form of Lord Hargrave’s mistress.
The court was in chaos.
“She’s only fainted,” Hargrave was assuring those nearest, irritation high in his voice.
“Call for my physician,” the king commanded.
“It happens often, my liege. Weak constitution. The excitement of court. Take her to my room; she’ll be fine.”
The king looked at his sergeant. “I’d have her seen,” he said pointedly. “The woman has appeared to be on death’s door the entire time we’ve been gathered.”
The soldiers carried the limp form of the woman from the hall, but Hargrave did not follow, returning to his chair and sitting, crossing his legs in an irritated fashion.
“Would you be excused, Lord Hargrave?” the crier asked solicitously.
Hargrave waved a hand. “I’ve said she’ll be fine.”
Glenna looked at Tavish, who had turned to stand in the middle of the aisle, facing Audrey Keane in her fine ivory-and-blue gown. She was smiling sheepishly as she walked forward on her father’s arm, looking around hesitantly at the crowd gathered. Muir followed behind them, and Glenna’s mouth fell open as she realized the truth before anyone spoke a word.
Tavish stepped toward her and embraced her, causing Audrey’s trilling laugh to ring out.
“I must say, I did not expect so warm a welcome.” She laughed. She pulled away from Tavish, and she and Muir stepped forward, sinking low before the king.
James sat up straight in his chair. “Are you Audrey Keane?”
“I am, Your Majesty,” Audrey said in her curtsey, her eyes wide.
“Where the bloody hell have you been, gel?” Niall Keane bellowed. “And you, Muir; what’s your part in it?”
Audrey turned her eyes to Tavish. “I…you don’t know? But…I left a note for you in my chamber. So no one would worry in case we weren’t back before my father arrived. And Muir said you—”
“Audrey!” Niall demanded.
“Papa, Muir and I are wed.”
“What?” her father shouted.
Tavish drew his head back. “What?”
John Muir spoke then, his slow, careful manner of speech commanding the hall. “It is no secret to Master Keane that I have loved his daughter since I first came to sail for him as a boy. I asked for her hand long ago, and he refused me—saying he wished a noble match for her. I honored his wishes, wanting the best for Audrey, as well. It’s why I left his employ to captain the Stygian for my best mate, Tavish Cameron.”
“And I loved Muir, too, Papa,” she said. “You thought it would fade, and I tried to obey you. But…I don’t wish to be stuck away in a tower in the sticks of the Forth. So far from the city, and you, and…and life itself. Muir is a successful man—I shall have everything I could ever want as his wife. And so much more.”
“No,” Niall Keane commanded, shaking his head. “No, I refuse to allow it.”
“It’s already done, Papa,” Audrey said with a sad smile. “I am his wife, in word and in deed.”
Niall turned to the king. “My liege? Can you not do something?”
Audrey’s eyes went wide. “Papa, you didn’t think—” She broke off and looked earnestly at the king. “My liege, Master Cameron would never do anything to harm me. I trust him with my life, and that of my husband.”
The king then looked to Niall. “I assume you now wish to withdraw your accusations.”
Niall turned to Tavish, his face ruddy, and extended his hand. “My apologies, Cameron. I hope someday you can forgive me for ever thinking…”
Glenna was filled with pride, and Tavish quickly took Master Keane’s hand.
“It is a happy day for you, Niall,” Tavish said.
Niall nodded and looked away, Audrey walking him to his chair and helping him to sit.
Tavish looked up at Muir. “You son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath. “It was Audrey the whole time.”
“Who else would it be, Tav?” he asked with a confused frown. Then he cocked a brow and looked over his shoulder. “You thought I was in love with Miss Douglas?” He left Tavish with a shake of his head.
“Now that we have come to a happy resolution in the mystery of Miss Keane’s whereabouts,” the king announced, calling the court to order once more, “let us continue on with the matter for which I have traveled to Roscraig in the first place.” He looked to Glenna. “Miss Douglas, please stand.”
* * * *
Glenna’s knees were shaking as she took her place at Tavish’s side before the king.
“How long have you lived at Tower Roscraig?” the king asked.
“I was born here, my liege.” She was determined to keep her voice calm, her answers brief.
“And your father? How long has he been in charge of the Tower?”
Glenna swallowed. “I don’t know.”
The king folded his hands over his stomach. “Who is his family?”
“Douglas is the only family name I have known. From the Carson Town.”
“And you’ve never met them.”
“No, Your Majesty. My father said they were a feuding lot.”
James nodded thoughtfully. “I have heard much the same. Your mother?”
“She died,” Glenna said. “Shortly after I was born.”
“What was the cause?”
“I don’t know. I was yet an infant, my liege.” The crowd tittered, and Glenna’s cheeks heated at the king’s unimpressed frown.
“Why has the village of Roscraig been so decimated?” James pressed. “What of the crops?”
“We have been beset by sickness for years, my liege,” Glenna said. “The last wave is what has touched my father. He was bedridden after a fit took his speech and his legs.”
“And he has always told you that he was laird of Roscraig?”
Glenna lifted her chin. “He never told me; he simply was.”
“Hmm.” James nodded thoughtfully and then looked to Tavish. “I assume you can produce the decree?”
Tavish reached inside his tunic and withdrew the packet Glenna remembered him showing her so long ago. He stepped forward and handed it to the crier, who opened the page and set it before the king.
James’s eyes were fixed on the timbers of the hall ceiling, however. “Read it,” he said in a bored voice.
The crier retrieved the page and cleared his throat before reciting the words scrawled across the page. Each syllable was like a damnation against Glenna’s testimony. Halfway through, Tavish turned his hand to take hold of her fingers. She glanced at him, and it gave her courage.
When the man had finished the page, he returned it to the tabletop, where James picked it up and casually perused it for a moment. He set it away from him with a flick and leaned his temple against his fingers as his eyes looked past Tavish’s shoulder.
“Aye, Lord Hargrave.”
“I must take exception to Master Cameron’s inheritance decree, Your Majesty—Roscraig is not his to receive, for Thomas Annesley long ago gave it over to the man who helped him evade justice. If the Tower should be granted to anyone upon Iain Douglas’s death, it’s Glenna Douglas.”
The king looked intrigued. “Go on.”
“After Thomas Annesley murdered my daughter, he escaped into Scotland. I sent soldiers and a trusted servant to chase him down and bring him to justice. They followed him to Roscraig, his mother’s childhood home…”
Vaughn Hargrave was making good on his threat.
This time, it was Glenna who squeezed Tavish’s hand.
* * * *
Anne was concentrating on the stitching in her lap and singing a tune under her breath to the ill old laird sleeping in the bed next to her chair when the door to the chamber opened. She looked up, expecting to see the miss’s solemn, lovely face.
Instead it was a skinny old man, with long, gray, wavy hair and the weathered skin of the sort that came from a life spent working in the fields or on the water. The sun-stained shade of his face made his blue eyes seem all the lighter.
“Beg yer pardon, lass,” he said in a thick brogue as he gripped his cap in his hands. He walked toward the bed, stuffing his cap into his rough belt next to a sheathed blade. “Not meaning to disturb your lovely song, but I’ve come to fetch the laird.”
Anne’s eyes widened. “The laird is dreadful ill, you. Surely Miss Glenna—”
He laid his callused hand on her arm, and his smile was kind. “I ken he’s ill. Lass, I ken. It’s his own gel that wants him.”
“I’m supposed to watch over the laird,” Anne said. “Mistress Harriet bade me. She…she would whip me.”
The old man shook his head. “She wouldna. Nae Harriet. Nay. She wouldna’ve left you here with him did she nae think you’d do right by him.” He patted her hand. “You come along, as well. So you can see that I only do what I must. If the laird could speak, he would tell you. If he could walk, why, there’d be nae need for me now, would there be?”
Anne frowned. Harriet had said nothing of this possibility. But the man was so gentle, and he made Anne feel special. And he seemed to know Harriet.
“All right,” Anne said, standing and laying her stitching on the chair. “I’ll go with you.”
The old man went to the bedside and leaned over the unconscious laird, whose breaths rattled in his throat like a winter wind through dead, dried leaves. His smile deepened, and Anne could see the pained compassion, the bittersweet fondness in the servant’s eyes.
“Iain,” he said softly, close to the man’s ear, and his smooth Gaelic was like a balm to Anne’s longing, highland heart. “Iain, tha mi air tighinn dhachaigh.”
I have come home…
* * * *
“Therefore,” Hargrave said with a slight bow in Glenna’s direction, “Tower Roscraig has truly been in the rightful hands all these years. Tavish Cameron has made it very clear that he will do whatever he must in order to oust Miss Douglas and steal her home; he clearly cannot be trusted. And so, considering both the dire state of Laird Douglas’s health as well as the years of fees paid on her behalf by myself, I ask the court that Glenna Douglas’s guardianship fall to me.”
“I am beginning to think you have a grudge against Master Cameron, Hargrave,” the king said.
Hargrave gave a smug chuckle and began to speak.
But the king cut him off. “You’ve said just enough, I think. Let me be clear. Tavish Cameron is not responsible for your daughter’s death. He did not kill Audrey Keane. He has done all in his power to provide for the occupants of this hold, includin
g making vast improvements to the Tower than can only benefit the entire kingdom. He is a tradesman of means, which pleases me greatly. And he also—whether it pleases you or nae—carries noble blood in his veins.”
Glenna let go of Tavish’s hand and took one step toward the king so that he would at last acknowledge her.
“Aye, Miss Douglas?” he said with raised brows.
“If I may, my liege,” she said in a shaking voice. “I would pose a question to Lord Hargrave before you make your judgment.”
James nodded once. “Go on.”
Glenna turned to Vaughn Hargrave. “My mother’s name was Margaret Douglas, called Meg by my father. I have reason to believe that…that you knew her. Did you kill her?”
“Did I…?” Hargrave laughed and looked around him. “Did I kill your mother?! My dear girl, what would ever make you think such a terrible thing about me? Of course I didn’t kill your mother.”
“She was the one you sent after Thomas Annesley, wasn’t she?” Glenna pressed, not allowing his theatrics to shake her.
“What? No, of course not,” Hargrave scoffed. “Who in their right mind would send a woman into the wilds of Scotland after a brutal killer?”
“You’re a liar.” Harriet’s voice rang out in the hall.
The crier turned a frown to her. “You will not speak out of turn, mistress.”
“You did send a woman, though,” Harriet insisted, her soft jowls quivering, bright patches of color on her otherwise pale face. Tavish’s mother was near to collapsing with fright; her words warbled as she spoke. “You sent Meg. I saw her. I thought when I first saw Lady Glenna that I knew her. And that’s why—’twas her own mother that I saw that night when she come for Tommy.”
The king glared at Tavish. “Cameron. There is no one here to corroborate these wild allegations, and I’ll not have hearsay from a commoner spoken against a noble.”
Tavish took a step toward Harriet. “Mam, please. Wait until you’re called upon.”
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