Arsenic and Old Armor (30 page)

And did he ever want her now.

“
Marion, when your aunts
mentioned entertaining me, I thought we agreed that making love was
part of our evening activities. Why don’t you come over here and
let me entertain
you
?”

“
You don’t believe me, do
you?” she asked, staring at him, hands on her hips.

“
I’ve come to appreciate
your many talents. Aside from being a woman of undeniable physical
charms, you are also a gifted storyteller.”

She threw her head back and ran her hands
through her hair. She made a noise that sounded like that of a
strangled animal.

“
But let’s explore the
first of those talents. Come over here, my love.”

“
Iain, this is NOT a
story.”

Iain stood up and took hold of her
shoulders, forcing her to look into his face. “Marion, what are you
trying to tell me?”

“
I am trying to tell you
the truth, and you’re only thinking of sex.”

“
It’s your fault. If you
weren’t so beautiful, I—”

“
Stop. You’re behaving like
a…a man!

“
I am a man. The man you
married. The man who would like to take you on his lap
and—”

“
Stop! I am trying to make
you understand that there is a dead body in that great hall, and
that there are more in the dungeon.”

“
You are trying to tell me
that those two sweet old ladies are the murderers of an entire
company of English soldiers.”

“
Not a company. Nineteen,”
she said.

“
Of course,” he said
good-naturedly. “Two old women have subdued nineteen English
soldiers.”

“
I don’t know if they were
all soldiers or not.” She pushed away from him, start to pace back
and forth. “I should have known that you would be too thick-headed
to recognize the truth and see reason.”

“
Especially when it is so
believable,” he said. He put out a hand and stopped her. “But what
should be readily believable is how much I want you now. Those
gates are secured. My men are keeping watch. Your aunts and Sir
William are doing…whatever they do. Why don’t you and
I—”

“
That’s it. This is your
last chance.” Marion pushed his hand off her arm, and there was
definitely a note of sadness in her voice. “I want you to go. If
you admit publicly to our marriage, then you become responsible for
me and my family.”

“
I’ve been responsible for
you all for years.”

“
No, it is different now.
You are responsible for my actions, too. For my misdeeds. And for
the misdeeds of my family of lunatics.”

“
I tried to bring up the
problem of your uncle, I believe, but someone almost took my head
off for mentioning it.”

“
Sir William is the least
of our problems…
my
problems, right now. There is the wee matter of Aunt Judith
and Aunt Margaret and the nineteen dead bodies.” She grabbed a
fistful of his shirt. “Iain, listen to me. You have to walk
away.”

He took her hands in his. “First, I still
don’t believe you. Secondly, even if I did, do you really think I
could walk away from a situation like this and let you face it
alone?”

“
This is not about facing
anything. It’s about having
your
head on a pike above the gates of
York.”

“
And you think your
punishment would be any less severe?” Iain asked
seriously.

“
They might let me rot in
some prison somewhere,” she said in a quavering tone.

“
And that’s acceptable to
you?”

“
It’s better than letting
anything happen to you,” Marion said quietly. “I’m related to them.
Their blood flows in my veins. I must be insane like the rest of
them. But you are innocent of all this.”

Iain pulled her against his chest, his arms
wrapping around her. “What am I going to do with you?”

“
Believe what I told you?”
she asked, looking up.

“
About those two sweet old
ladies?”

Marion shook her head. She pushed away from
him.

“
I’ll tell you what,” he
said. “I’ll make a bargain with you.”

“
What bargain?”

“
We go and look at these
corpses you say may be in the dungeon—”

“
And in the great
hall.”

“
Wherever you like. But if
there are no bodies--” He pulled her close to him-- “you and I put
all talk of annulment behind us and…”

“
Yes?”

“
And you make love to me as
I know you can.”

Marion stared at him for a moment and then
took his hand. “I can see I have no other choice.”

“
I like that kind of talk,”
he said.

“
That’s not what I mean. I
can see I’m going to have to introduce you. It’s time you met my
aunts’ special guest.”

All of this was his.

Jack Fitzwilliam walked the length of the
great hall. He touched the tapestry on the wall, ran his hand over
the damask cloth on the table where the food had been. He looked up
at the blackened beams and the ornate paneling along the walls.

How many times, as a lad, had he considered
burning it all to the ground?

He moved to the large chair near the hearth.
It had been the earl’s chair, and no one else was ever allowed to
sit in it. He glanced about him, and then sat down. The cushions
were comfortable, and the arms suited him perfectly. The carved
wood hand rests were smooth beneath his fingers.

When he was young, he had never been allowed
to touch this chair or even come into the great hall. Not while the
old earl lived. So he’d sneaked in when the laird was not around.
His lordship had always considered Jack no more than a mistake. The
bastard son of an idiot brother. He did not accept, respect, or
tolerate him. Jack was treated with less esteem than if he’d been a
servant. He was to be kept at the Tower, but he was never to be
acknowledged.

It wasn’t right, but Jack was now in a
position to change all that.

He slipped his dirk out of its sheath and
carefully carved the letter J in the left hand rest. He liked to
leave his mark on everything that he meant to keep. He had been the
only male McCall heir, but the old fool of an earl had turned to
their enemies—to Iain Armstrong—to take control of their land. But
John McCall was long dead, and Jack was the one who would now
decide the future for his clan.

Across the great hall, a shadow appeared in
the arched doorway. Jack saw his father, wearing his old-fashioned
armor. The old man moved into the room without a sound. This was
the only thing they had in common. They could both move as silently
as a shadow when they chose to. Jack stood up.

“
Well, if it isn’t my son,”
Sir William said. “Jack Fitzwilliam.”

Jack didn’t like to admit it, not even to
himself, but he was always pleased to have his father recognize him
each time he stopped here.

The old man slapped him on the shoulder.
“You look well, lad. How is your mother?”

“
Dead,” Jack
answered.

“
I’m elated to hear it.”
William nodded. “What brings you here?”

“
I am in search of my
cousin, Marion,” he said, hoping William could offer more
information than his aunts.

“
Marion. Marion.” William
looked up, tapping the side of his nose. “And who is this
Marion?”

“
Your niece. The late
earl’s daughter.”

“
Yes. Yes. She was here
just this afternoon.”

Jack smiled. He should have guessed that
those two wily old women would try to protect their spoiled protégé
from him. “Where is she now, Sir William?”

“
Up on the parapet. The
south bartizan. That’s where I stationed her. She is keeping watch
for Longshanks, the thieving cur.”

Jack remembered the parapet of the tower
house had always been Marion’s refuge, even as a child. That was
where she hid whenever Jack visited. It made sense she’d be hiding
there now.

“
Is she standing watch
alone?” Jack asked.

“
Of course,” William
answered. “I’ve no men to spare these days. She must carry her
weight, you know.”

Jack nodded. “And where is Iain
Armstrong?”

“
Iain Armstrong?” William
started tapping his nose again.

“
Marion’s betrothed,” Jack
said, hoping to freshen the old man’s mind. “He lives in Blackthorn
Hall across the—”

“
Ah, yes. The
laird.”

He gritted his teeth. “Yes. Iain.”

“
Why, he was here this
afternoon, too. A good lad.”

“
And is he still here?”
Jack pressed.

“
No! No! We couldn’t feed
him. Not enough to go around. I have my army to feed, you
know.”

“
Where is he
now?”

“
He left to check on his
men. He’ll be back tomorrow, I should think.”

Jack was satisfied. Everything made sense.
Never once, since the Earl of Fleet’s death, had he ever seen the
portcullis lowered. And yet, tonight it was. Now he understood why.
Iain would lock up the castle to protect his wife. And the lie
Jack's aunts had told him made sense, too. They wanted the outlaw
to assume Marion was not here—at least, not until her husband
arrived tomorrow.

Jack’s fingers wrapped around the handle of
his dirk. He had been waiting for this opportunity for years.
Turning the Armstrong laird over to the English tomorrow would not
be enough to secure his own position. Marion could always marry
again. Jack would always be facing the same situation he was facing
now.

He stepped around his father and moved
across the great hall toward the stairwell. Marion had to die, but
he didn’t want the murder to be too obvious. Perhaps just a fall
from the tower parapet, he thought. She would break her neck in the
fall.

Jack smiled. That definitely had
possibilities.

Margaret and Judith hovered in the doorway
to the kitchens, keeping quiet until they saw the shadow of their
nephew going up the stairs.

“
What do we do now?” Judith
asked, relieved that she could finally speak. “Do we go to
bed?”

“
We bar the door to the
courtyard,” Margaret answered.

“
The door to the great
hall?” Judith asked, perplexed. “But Marion and Iain are outside.
How will they get in?”

“
We don’t want them to come
inside,” Margaret explained to her sister. “They’re safe out there,
but I think Jack will kill them if they come in.”

“
So they’re safe outside,
but dead inside?”

“
Exactly, dear. Safe
outside, dead inside.”

“
Safe outside, dead
inside,” Judith repeated to remind herself.

“
Now, come with me,”
Margaret said, taking her sister by the arm.

“
Where are you taking
me?”

“
To the great hall, to bar
the door.”

Judith nodded, remembering. “Safe outside,
dead inside.”

The two old women moved quietly down the
narrow hallway and peeked up the circular stairwell. There was no
sign of Jack. Peering into the great hall, they were relieved to
see their brother standing in the center of the room, staring up at
the shields on the wall.

“
Oh, Sir William. We’re so
glad you are here,” Judith said.

Lost in his own world, the old man did
nothing to acknowledge them.

Margaret grabbed her sister’s sleeve and
pulled her to the door. “Help me with this.”

It was a struggle, but between the two of
them, they were able to lift the heavy oak beam and bar the ancient
door.

“
What happens if they
knock?” Judith asked afterward.

“
We have a few things to do
in the kitchen. We’ll hear them from there.”

“
Do we let them in,
then?”

Margaret shook her head. “No, we talk to
them from the window and tell them to go away.”

“
Tell them to go away,”
Judith repeated, satisfied. “Safe outside, dead inside.”

When they turned around, their brother had
not moved from where he had been standing. He continued to stare
with rapt attention at the weapons on the wall. Margaret tapped him
on the shoulder. He still didn’t move.

“
Sir William?” she
called.

There was no acknowledgment.

“
Sir William Wallace?” both
women called.

He turned so quickly that the visor of his
helmet dropped forward onto his face. He lifted it up and saw the
two women.

“
What is it, ladies? Can
you not see I’m busy?”

“
Your recruit, Sir
William,” Margaret said, pointing to the window seat. “He is
impatient to join the rest of your army.”

His expression immediately brightened. “Is
it time?”

The two sisters looked at each other first
before nodding simultaneously.

“
I am elated to hear it.
Eee-lated.” He held his visor up and moved toward the window
seat.

Margaret grabbed Judith’s sleeve again and
dragged her toward the arched doorway. “Come with me to the
kitchens. We have much to do tonight.”