Highland Guard (12 page)

“Nay, Geordie, as I believe she will be hanged before ye are.” He ignored Biddy’s wailing protest.

“What did she do?”

“Poisoned the laird.”

“Nay, nay, nay! It was only supposed to make him sick and too weak to fight.”

Harcourt looked at Biddy who looked as startled by her words as he felt. That was a confession. He glanced at Geordie who was looking disgusted and shaking his head. There might be hope for Geordie. He was now witness to the woman’s confession. Harcourt suspected that Geordie would point the finger of guilt at anyone just to save his own neck, but at least this time it would be the truth.

“So ye are the bitch that killed him,” Geordie said. “I told Jaikie it was a lass but he wouldn’t hear it. He didnae listen much and look where that got him. Shame he isnae here any longer to find out I was right.”

“Hush, Geordie,” Harcourt commanded in his coldest voice.

“Hushing,” he mumbled and sat in the far corner of his bed.

“So, Biddy, ye would have us believe ye kept feeding your laird a poison but just thought he would get ill, nay die,” Harcourt said.

“That was it. That was all. ’Tis nay my fault he was a weakling.”

It made him furious to hear her call David weak and Harcourt made no secret of his anger, allowing it to coat his words. “Ye put the poison in his food. It doesnae matter whether ye were mistaken about what would happen. Ye gave it to him. He died. So, ye are the murderer.”

“I was just doing as I was told.”

“Certainly nay by your laird.” He noticed that Geordie was listening closely. “Ah, then it was your lover.”

“Nay, he was just doing what he was told as a loyal second should.”

“So ye were both obeying Sir Adam MacQueen then.”

“I didnae say that!”

“Your lover used you, made ye the knife he was too cowardly to use himself.”

“Clyde is no coward,” Biddy snapped.

“Clyde?” Geordie said. “Ye were Clyde’s wee whore? Wheesht, ye are a witless lass, arenae ye?”

“He was going to marry me!”

“Och, aye? Ye believed that?”

Even Harcourt felt like wincing at the sharp scorn in Geordie’s voice. “Ye ken Clyde weel, do ye?” he asked the man.

“Nay, just another of his hirelings. Although I suspicion he didnae pay ye much,” Geordie said to Biddy. “He ne’er pays the lassies he uses. Weel, nay in coin. ’Tis rumored he has paid a few with cold steel though when they thought he had made promises he wasnae keeping and made too much noise about it.” He looked around the cells. “Ye best be careful. He might consider this making too much noise.”

“Clyde is going to marry me and when Sir Adam gains this place, Clyde will be his second. Then I will be a lady.”

Geordie hooted with laughter and Harcourt watched Biddy blush. Not from shame or embarrassment, however, but with a growing fury. Geordie was, in his strange way, doing better at getting information out of Biddy than he had been. He had also stopped her crying, replacing fear with anger.

“I shall tell Clyde about you,” she hissed.

“Oh, I be so scared. What is he going to do? Toss me in a cell? Hang me? Missed his chance there.”

Biddy looked at Harcourt and he realized Geordie had become the new target for her anger. Anger was good. Anger made people say things they would not under other circumstances. It made them lose their guard over their tongue. It was almost as good as pouring ale down a prisoner’s throat until he was too sotted to care what he told the one asking questions.

“What is there for me here? Cooking for people who dinnae e’en notice me. Clyde was going to get me out of the kitchen.”

“And right into a grave,” muttered Geordie.

“Shut up!”

Biddy glared at the man but Harcourt could see the glint of fear in her eyes. He could not be certain if it was because she knew she had lost what she sought or if she feared Geordie was right. Her confidence in Clyde’s promises might not be as strong as she wanted them to believe. Shaking his head, he decided he actually had enough information to hang her but he wanted something else. He wanted information on Sir Adam.

“How did ye come and go to your trysts with no one kenning when and where ye went?” Harcourt asked.

“The bolt-hole.”

“That is locked.”

“The one they made for us peasants, aye. But I got a lock maker to make me a new key. I also looked about for other places where I could come and go but ye have already found most of those.”

“It will make it easier if ye tell me where they all are.”

“And why should I do that?”

“Did your lover promise to nay hurt your sisters when he and his men sneak in here to slaughter us?” Her look of unease gave him his answer. “Where are the bolt-holes ye used, the ones aside from the two your laird made?”

Biddy hesitated and then reluctantly told him. As Harcourt left, he had the feeling she may have kept one secret. Since she would have done that for her own purposes, he would have to consider what the best approach would be for getting that piece of information from her.

He hunted down Gybbon and told him where Biddy said her other bolt-holes were, not all of them tunnels. It annoyed him that he had missed those places in his work to strengthen Glencullaich’s defenses. Gybbon promised he and the others would leave no stone unturned. The fact that Biddy would try to keep one hidden despite how it could be used against Glencullaich angered him. The woman was far more selfish than anyone had guessed. She might be a bit witless, but she was also cunning and cold. Even the concern for her sisters had not fully deterred Biddy from what was her most important concern—herself.

Deciding he needed to have his questions well planned out when he next visited Biddy, Harcourt chose to exercise his leg a little with a careful stroll around the inside of the wall. He also intended to keep a close eye out for any sign of that bolt-hole Biddy was keeping secret. Every instinct he had told him that it was important to get Glencullaich as tightly sealed and secured as he could, as soon as he could.

War was marching their way. Sir Adam MacQueen had tried to take Annys, tried to get hold of Benet, tried to destroy the village, and had played a long game of trying to make life so miserable many of the people fled. None of those things had gained him the prize he thought he was owed. There really were only two choices left to him—fight to take it or give up. Harcourt did not believe they would be so fortunate as to have the man walk away and leave them alone. That left them with a battle to take Glencullaich. Harcourt just hoped the man would wait until his leg healed completely.

Harcourt wondered what the punishment was for beating a sheriff. The man seated at the table eating and drinking too much from Glencullaich’s larder was not going to be any help. It had been a waste of time to even send for the man. Sir Thomas MacQueen was not actually interested in doing his job. That he was kin to Sir Adam should have warned him that the man would do nothing, but other sheriffs dealt justice out to their kinsmen all the time and without hesitation when it was deserved. It was possible, he thought, that Sir Adam had bribed the oaf in some way.

“The mon kidnapped the laird of Glencullaich and twice tried to take Lady Annys as weel,” said Harcourt. “Ye cannae just ignore that.”

“I am nay ignoring it but ye have no proof any of that was done by Sir Adam.”

“They were his men. Ye spoke to the mon we hold, the one who stampeded the cattle. He told ye he was hired by Sir Adam MacQueen.”

“Aye”—the sheriff sat back and rubbed his rounded belly—“but Sir Adam wasnae the one who told him to do that, was he. And that lass? Weel, she wasnae talking to Sir Adam, either, was she. Best ye have is the right to accuse Sir Adam’s man Clyde and t’will still be that mon’s word against some witless kitchen maid.”

“Get out,” Harcourt said, wanting the man out of his sight as quickly as possible.

“What?” The sheriff lumbered to his feet looking a strange mixture of shocked and afraid.

“Ye heard me. Get out.”

“Why so harsh? Because I willnae let ye falsely accuse a mon who has been cheated of what is rightfully his by some wee bastard?”

Harcourt was not surprised when the sheriff paled for he suspected the glare he sent the man revealed just how murderous he was feeling. “Nay, because ye have no respect for the law. I suspicion Sir Adam has bought ye, although I hope he didnae pay verra much. Sir Adam has no claim here, nay by any law, for Sir David MacQueen, the laird, clearly declared Benet his son, born within the bounds of marriage to Lady Annys. And, Sir Adam will lose this game. Ye will have disgraced your office and your name for naught. Now, leave.”

After the man hurried away, Harcourt poured himself a tankard of ale. He had almost finished it all before his fury receded. He sighed when Nicolas and Callum arrived and joined him at the table.

“No help at all, was he,” said Callum as he helped himself to some cider.

“Nay. He sits firmly in Sir Adam’s pocket,” replied Harcourt.

“Then we will deal out justice on our own.”

“I was trying to avoid that tangle.”

“I ken it, but that fool has tossed it all right into our laps. He will regret that.”

“Oh, aye, he will.” Harcourt heard the force of a vow behind his words and could see that the other two men did as well. “I cannae understand how the mon e’er became a knight, let alone a sheriff. His corruption runs bone deep.”

“Happens more often than ye may think,” said Nicolas.

“Any more from that idiot of a maid?” he asked.

“Nay. She still does naught but cry and she continues to claim she didnae ken what she was doing. Geordie demanded he be moved to someplace quieter or just to get his hanging over and done so he can get some peace.” Nicolas grinned when the others laughed.

“Ye dinnae believe her.”

“Nay, dinnae believe a word she says. If it had been a quick poison she gave David, I might, but it was a slow one. She may be dull of wit but no one is so much so that they wouldnae see what they were doing was causing a terrible sickness in the mon.”

Callum nodded. “I think she kens verra weel what she did, e’en what she was helping Sir Adam to do. When I spoke to her about an hour past, she said something to make me think she believed she was about to better herself, that she would come out of all this placed far above a mere kitchen maid.”

Harcourt shook his head. “Witless lass. Annys said she heard something similar when she listened to what Clyde and Biddy said to each other. It appalled her. Biddy is an utter fool to have ever thought she would get what was being promised. Within minutes after Sir Adam set his arse in the laird’s chair all she would have been is dead.”

“Weel, what she is now is gone,” said Gybbon as he entered the hall. “Someone set her free.”

“How?” asked Harcourt.

“Nay certain but do suspect it was one of her sisters who did it. They must have given Geordie something because he is surrounded by tankards and snoring loud enough to shake the mortar out of the walls. The lass was facing a hanging and mayhap they couldnae bear the thought.”

Rubbing his head to ease a growing ache there, Harcourt said, “Pick some men and try and find her.”

“She will try to reach her lover,” said Callum.

“And if she reaches him before we find her, she will die.”

“Aye, probably ere she e’en finishes asking for help.”

Harcourt sighed and rubbed his leg. His stitches were out now and the wound fully closed, but it still ached from time to time. It had been exactly a fortnight since he had been wounded and he knew he had healed well, even quickly, considering the severity of the wound, but that reminder did not always still his irritation over a lingering weakness.

“Any word from those two idiots?”

“Just that they are still alive. Hard to kill MacFingals. Sometimes ’tis hard to realize ye probably should kill them.”

Harcourt smiled briefly. “Still alive is enough although I hope they can give us some useful news soon. I best go and report all of this to Annys,” he said, reluctant to give her what could only be called bad news.

“I think a part of her will be a bit relieved that Biddy has fled,” said Callum. “She wasnae looking forward to having to mete out the justice needed.”

Standing up, Harcourt nodded. “I ken it. ’Tis a hard thing for anyone with heart to see done nay matter how certain they are of the person’s guilt. But, I also think she was hoping for some answers, some reason for why Biddy did what she did.”

“She heard the reasons. She just doesnae want to believe that could be all.”

“It will be hard for her to accept that sometimes greed is all there is that makes some people do the evil they do.”

No one argued that and Harcourt left to go talk to Annys. She, too, was healed now, although the signs of all the bruises she had suffered still lingered as did a faint limp. He smiled as he rapped on her bedchamber door. They now had matching gaits.

Annys called out an invitation to enter and he let himself in, quietly shutting the door behind him. He stood and savored the sight of her for a moment. She still wore her hair unbound though he knew the ache in her head caused by her fall had faded. A simple green gown flattered both the blood-red color of her hair and her green eyes. When she smiled a greeting at him, his heart skipped and he had to smile back at her, a little amused by how besotted he was.

“I saw the sheriff ride away,” she said.

“Aye, that proved to be a great waste of my time,” he said as he moved to sit beside her on the bench by the window. “Ye have these benches everywhere.”

“I like the natural light to do my sewing and needlework. Joan likes to say that she just looks to see where the sun is in the sky if she needs to find me.”

“Something to remember.” He ignored the wary look she gave him “The sheriff isnae only a kinsmon of Sir Adam’s. I strongly suspect he is bought and paid for by the mon. He had no interest in what I was telling him, the accusations and proof I offered, and is obviously a believer in Sir Adam’s claim that Glencullaich is his by right.”

“So yet another MacQueen does his duty by Adam whilst giving no blood or coin to the fight.” Annys shook her head as she put her needlework aside. “They are all in league with him if nay actually armed and standing by his side. They are like carrion crows, sitting about in the trees waiting for the winner of the fight to emerge so that they may get a few scraps to feed on. I cannae believe David or Nigel shared blood with those people.”

“Aye, their relationship is hard to see.” He took a deep breath and said, “Biddy has escaped.”

“Och, nay.” Annys shook her head, her pleasure in the day quickly dimming. “We should have banished her sisters from the keep, but I dinnae have the heart to do it since I kenned Biddy would hang. She will be running to her lover, aye?”

“That is what I think.”

“Then she will soon pay for David’s death, just nay at our hands.”

Harcourt put his arm around her and held her close. “Unless we find her first. We will search for her. Callum told me they will begin the search for her. We may find her before she foolishly seeks out her lover.” He kissed her temple, savoring the light brush of her against his face.

“And then we will be forced to hang her. There is no victory to be found here.”

“She chose her path, Annys. And she is no innocent, for all she claims she didnae ken the laird would die. Her reasons for what she did are nay innocent ones, either. Nay honorable at all. She was doing all of it for her lover because he told her she would find herself in a position far above the one a mere kitchen maid holds.”

“She would be but one step below a laird’s wife,” Annys murmured. “Clyde spoke of how he was going to raise her that high. I wanted there to be more reason, e’en if that more made no sense to me. I wanted David’s death to have been for a reason, nay just greed. ’Tis so hard to believe he was murdered because a cousin wants more coin and a foolish kitchen maid wants finer gowns and someone to cook for her as she has always cooked for others. Murdering a good mon for such petty reasons makes it all seem far more evil.”

“Aye, it does. But, Annys, greed and envy kill many a good mon. Always has. Always will.”

Annys leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his waist. The steady beat of his heart, the warm strength of his body, soothed her even as it stirred her body’s interest. David was gone. There was no bringing him back or changing the sickening reasons he was murdered for. All she could do was hold fast to the land he loved, keeping it out of the hands of ones who would destroy it in their greed, and make his murderers pay for all their crimes.

She hummed her pleasure as he stroked her hair. Annys decided she was weary of her own lingering indecision. The man could still stir her blood like no one else ever had. She was no virgin lass, no innocent maid. Their trysts by the burn years ago had taught her a great deal. Sadly he had also shown her what she was missing in her marriage to David. There was something missing in her life now as well. It was past time she reached out and took what she wanted even though she knew it could never last.

“This is dangerous, lass,” Harcourt murmured, his whole body tightening with want as she pressed her body against his and idly caressed his back and arms.

“Mmmmm. So is life, I have discovered.” She lifted her head from his chest and smiled at him. “Mayhap I have just decided that I like poking at the fire.”

“Ye dinnae have to poke too hard, loving. ’Tis burning hot already. It has been for five verra long years. I could find naught to fully douse it.”

He saw the brief flare of hurt in her eyes but refused to lie to her. She had been married and out of his reach. He had had every right to seek comfort, maybe even more. He knew she was not so naïve, or even witless, that she would believe he had spent the years since they had parted celibate and pining for her. The urge to soothe pain, no matter how brief and prompted partly by the knowledge that she had been alone, could not be completely smothered, however.

“Of course, I havenae e’en bothered to try for a verra long time so ’tis somewhat quick to flare up now.”

“Is it now.” She kissed the hollow at the base of his throat and heard him inhale sharply. “I ne’er even tried.”

“Weel, ye were married.”

“More or less.”

Harcourt could not wait any longer. He slid his hand under her chin, tilted her face up to his, and kissed her. She slid her arms around his neck and began to return his kiss with all the heat any man could ask for. Still uncertain if he was really seeing the willingness he thought he was, the willingness he ached to see, Harcourt struggled to keep his need for her from overwhelming him and making him push her too hard, too fast.

Annys could sense his caution but was not sure how to break the control he was exerting on his lust. She had done all she could to let him know she was willing to be his lover again. Even when they were lovers, Harcourt had always been the one to start the dance. Annys thought back to those days, fighting to recall something that she could do to end his caution with her.

Harcourt’s control was hanging by a thread, a very thin, frayed thread. He was considering just bluntly asking her if this time she wanted to go beyond kisses, when she slid her small hand over his thigh and lightly brushed her fingers against his groin, as if testing his interest. He groaned softly and began to undo her gown.

Ending the kiss, Harcourt said, “Annys, if ye are going to say nay, say it fast so that I may crawl out of here without having offended or frightened ye in some way.”

Annys just smiled and began to unlace his shirt. He decided to take that as an
aye.
It amazed him that he got her gown off without tearing it. One she wore nothing under but her shift. He decided she was being too slow in removing his shirt so he quickly finished the job himself. He pulled her back into his arms and felt a small tremor go through her. That sign that her need might match his own only increased his desperation to be skin to skin with her.

And in a bed, he thought, and suddenly grew still. Annys was a small woman and lifting her into his arms would be no trouble at all. But, walking her to the bed when he still limped might not be as easy. In fact, it could prove humiliating.

Beneath her hands Annys could feel the tension in Harcourt’s body. It was not due to passion, she was certain of that. She chanced a peek at his face, afraid she would see something there that would cause her pain. It puzzled her to see that he was staring at the bed with a look of consternation. That was not an expression one expected to see on the face of one’s lover.