The Daring Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series) (27 page)

Liselle turned her head speculatively to the side. “And whom might
they
be,
bón pare
?” she asked softly.

His eyes lost focus as his voice trembled in reply, “The Vindictam!”

She drew back in surprise.

“I would never betray
La Serenìsima
to Ferrara,” the old man continued. “I must send the word to the Vindictam. They should know the Saluzzi have betrayed them. The prince, the Electus, is in danger. Find him by his mark. I have drawn his mark, there—” He waved trembling fingers to the leather pouch at his feet.

Liselle’s brows rose even higher as comprehension dawned. He was speaking of the ruling elite of the Vindictam, matters so secret that not even Orazio would know of them!

Another bout of coughing seized his frail frame, and she could do nothing more to ease him other than to pat his back and murmur more comforting words. “Rest,
bón pare
. Take rest. Do not speak.” Indeed. For her to hear such things would only be a danger!

“Rest,
sì
, I can rest,
àngiolìna,
” Dolfin murmured. And then closing his eyes, he dropped into a feverish sleep.

Liselle stared down at the old man’s pale face in shock.

No wonder Orazio had been seeking him! With such knowledge the old salt spy would certainly be an enemy to the Vindictam. But did he truly know the identity of the Electus, the man who had been chosen to replace the Grand Master, the
Dominus
Granditer—the
iron fist to rule over them all?

She shivered and eyed the leather pouch with trepidation. Whatever it held, she was safer not seeing it. Such knowledge was death.

The identity of the Dominus Granditer was a closely guarded secret, a necessity for his own survival.

Yes, she should destroy the pouch with its contents unseen. Dolfin would be killed on sight if he were found with such a thing.

But she picked up the pouch anyway and her fingers untied the loop and slipped inside. At first, she found nothing unusual. A comb, prayer beads, and an iron ring of lock picks.

There was nothing with a mark upon it.

She pursed her lips and lightly tossed the pouch away.

The man was most likely delirious.

But after a moment, she picked up the pouch again and ran her fingers along its velvet interior.

It was then that she felt the hidden seam, and in the next moment, she was looking at a strip of parchment with the single word Electus written above a symbol of a ‘V’.

She frowned, never having seen such a thing before.

And then Dolfin woke again, his shaking hand clawing her arm. “Water,
àngiolìna?
Do you have water?”

Liselle glanced about the room, but it was bare. Rising swiftly to her feet, she promised, “I will fetch some for you right quickly,
bón pare
. Hold tight.”

Hurrying down the steps, she twisted her lips, perplexed. She could only pity such a helpless old man. How could Orazio expect her to slay him?

* * *

Approaching the Mercat Cross, Julian squinted at the postings, reading the latest one declaring the reconciliation of James and his brother. He rolled his eyes in disgust. And as a clap of thunder echoed in the sky above his head, he squared his shoulders, thinking it was time to head back up the Royal Mile to the castle high on the hill above him.

But he’d only taken a step when the flash of Liselle’s green dress caught the corner of his eye. Stepping into an archway, he allowed
his gaze
to travel over her slender figure.

Even though he’d seen her jump out of a window, the wee vixen looked like a fragile doll, a creature of the court with her pouting, kissable lips. But she possessed a strength that he’d seen in few.

He was fair tempted to step forward and claim her lips once again, but then she set off at a brisk pace.

Intrigued, he followed her along a narrow twisted route through Edinburgh’s wynds, keeping to the shadows as she hurried down the Cannongate to finally pause in front of a decrepit butcher’s house. On the step, she glanced over her shoulder several times before cautiously stepping through the door and disappearing inside.

Peeking through a dirty window, he watched her slip behind a bedraggled curtain hanging in the back.

He glanced about and lifted his lip in disgust.

The
air reeked of urine and filth. There was no sign of the butcher. Stepping inside, he took one look at the rickety staircase and knew he’d never be able to reach the top without announcing his presence to all.

But it was a simple enough matter to solve.

Returning outside, he quickly scaled the back wall and approached the windows from the roof. But it was only a slightly better solution. The ancient tiles cracked and shattered beneath his feet.

And then he heard Liselle’s distinct voice followed by a man’s hacking cough. And leaning over the edge of the roof, he peered through the top of the window to see her kneeling before a pitiable figure of a man lying on a straw pallet.

“And take another,
bón pare
,” Liselle was saying as she dipped a silver spoon into a wooden bowl of what appeared to be gruel.

The clatter of hooves sounded on the street below, and Julian drew back a little as a company of royal guards galloped by, escorting several men dressed in the livery of the House of York. They were clearly headed towards the castle.

By the time he peered through the window once again, Liselle had moved, blocking his view of the man as she leaned forward to lift his head and press a cup to his lips.

“’
Tis barley water sweetened with honey,” she murmured encouragingly. “It will give you strength.”

Julian lifted a curious brow even as his eyes dipped over her seductive curves. His gaze strayed to the curve of her neck as she once more began to spoon gruel into the sick man’s mouth.

Aye, her neck called for a man’s kiss.

And then the man on the pallet lifted a feeble hand and said in a weak voice, “You have returned,
àngiolìna
!”

Julian’s eyes widened in alarm as he instantly recognized Dolfin’s voice. The man was supposed to have travelled to the Cambuskenneth Abbey! How was it that he’d ended up here?

“You must leave this place at once. You cannot stay,
bón pare
,” Liselle was saying. “It is too dangerous. You will be found.”

“My weary old bones cannot travel,
cara
,” Dolfin answered with a shaky laugh.

“Would you rather die a traitor’s death?” she asked with a firm shake of her head. “I will arrange for someone to take you from here. You must go with him, and you must leave this night!”

And then rising gracefully to her feet, she dipped a respectful curtsey and sailed through the doorway, heading back down the creaking steps.

Julian didn’t hesitate.

Dropping through the window, he landed lightly on his feet, and in a moment was kneeling at Dolfin’s side.

“How do you feel,
Istruttore?”
he asked without preamble, laying an uneasy hand upon the old man’s sweating brow. Had she poisoned him?

Dolfin was clearly surprised to see him, but he managed a weak, welcoming smile. On his thin, unshaven face, it looked almost ghoulish.

“You are well,
caro!”
he croaked.

“Aye! And why would I not be?” Julian asked grimly, frowning in concern. “How long have ye been ill? And why are ye here? Did I not tell ye to travel to Cambuskenneth? Why did ye come here?”

“So many questions,” Dolfin’s voice trembled as he struggled to prop himself up on an unsteady elbow. And then he knit his brows. “What did you ask?”

Julian eyed him in concern. The man was confused and frail, but he didn’t appear to be poisoned. “Dinna fash yourself over it,” Julian muttered under his breath. “I’ll see ye safe myself and right quickly.”

Dolfin reached out and patted his hand. “My strength is returning, thanks to yon
àngiolìna
. You just missed her,
caro
.”

Julian grunted. He could hardly tell the man that the lass was a Vindictam assassin.

“I must leave this place—” Dolfin began, before a fierce bout of coughing consumed him.

“Aye, of that there is no doubt,” Julian murmured with a stern brow. “Tarry a moment more,
Istruttore
. I will find help right quickly.”

It didn’t take him long, and soon enough, Julian found himself standing in the center of the road, waving a relieved farewell to Dolfin, who was safely tucked beneath a plaid in the back of a friar’s cart. The friar was a trusted friend and had vowed to see Dolfin safely to the monks of Cambuskenneth Abbey. Aye, the good brothers would see the old man properly tended to.

And only when Dolfin and the friar had rolled out of sight, did Julian turn back towards the castle, pondering the strange turn of events along the way.

Liselle’s deed was an odd one. She had no cause to aid a man her brother sought to kill. Unless it was part of some devious scheme he had yet to uncover.

* * *

Liselle hurried back to the castle, planning to find Julian at once to warn him of Dolfin’s dire circumstances and perhaps gain a measure of his trust along the way. The feeble old man filled her heart with pity. How could Orazio even think to kill him?

Frowning, she had just stepped out of a narrow close when a red roan reared before her, and she immediately fell back, her instinct unsheathing her stiletto in an instant.

“Do you recognize me?” a man’s voice asked harshly.

Startled, she glanced up into the face of the thick-browed Saluzzo from Fotheringhay, the man she had injured.
Santo
Ciélo!
Why had the man accosted her? Was it vengeance?

“Should I know your face?” Liselle asked haughtily, holding her head high even as she gripped her stiletto tighter.

The man threw back his head with a short bark of laughter. “You know well who I am, you foolish woman! You may think you’ve outwitted me and prevented this war, but you are sorely mistaken! I and my brother will see this truce broken and the Saluzzi honor restored! We shall free the Saluzzi from the spell you’ve cast over them!”

“War?” Liselle repeated, feigning ignorance as she stalled for time.
Santo
Ciélo!
How had the man found her out?

The man rolled his eyes and glanced away in disgust before turning back to laugh, a hard, cruel laugh. “I’ll not let Antonio uphold this truce! I and my brother will prevail. We shall open Antonio’s eyes and make him see the treachery of the Vindictam at last!”

Liselle fell back a step. The name of Antonio Saluzzo was a fearsome one. Unlike the Vindictam who kept their ruling elite shrouded in secrecy, the Saluzzi made their leader known to all.

“You make little sense!” she whispered, feeling suddenly ill. She
had
rekindled a war! “I have done nothing—”

“My brother saw you in Fotheringhay,” the man replied, his squinty eyes narrowing into slits. “Antonio demands retribution for your attack, but my blade cries for your blood! Even now he wastes his time discussing with the Vindictam a fitting punishment for you. But there will be no justice for me until I see a river of your blood flowing down the street!”

“You are
un demònio
!” Liselle said through white lips. The man was clearly consumed by hatred, almost to the verge of madness.

“Mayhap I am!” The thick-browed man’s eyes glittered with contempt. “Know you that I’ll be watching your every move, and I only hope that you will fail, because then I will see what I truly want. Your blood upon my blade!”

Liselle’s head snapped back.

With that, the rogue Saluzzo wheeled his horse around and galloped away, but at the last moment suddenly leaned back to hurl a slim blade directly at her.

Arms of steel banded about Liselle’s waist, pulling her back to safety, but not entirely quick enough. The blade grazed the side of her neck, leaving a wide scratch, but she scarcely felt the pain.

She sheathed her stiletto. The man was already out of range, and within seconds, out of sight.

“Diàmbarne!
” Liselle cursed under her breath, shaken.

And then, she turned upon her rescuer, and her lips parted in surprise.

It was Julian.

He was looking at the scratch upon her neck, and his brows furrowed as he wiped the blood away with his thumb.

“I dinna care for the sight of your blood, lass,” he murmured.

But she scarcely heard his words. Her mind raced over what the Saluzzo had said. Antonio Saluzzo was even now discussing retribution? Was the man here in Edinburgh?

“What cause did he have to attack ye?” Julian asked, his brows knitting with worry. “Is this about Dolfin?”

Pain lanced through her heart upon hearing Dolfin’s name on his lips yet again. She could hear the disapproval in his voice. Would he even believe her that she had planned to seek him out in order to aid the old man?

“Dolfin—” she began, but then a party of Yorkist horsemen clattered through the streets towards them, led by the Earl of Angus, the Red Douglas.

And as the man hailed Julian, Liselle slipped from his grasp.

She did not have the time to listen to the red-haired blustering earl, nor could she afford to be overheard by anyone discussing Dolfin. Such things had a way of finding the ears of the Vindictam.

The old man was safely hidden at the butcher’s house for the moment. And with the Vindictam and the Saluzzi discussing retribution, the old salt spy was most likely far from their minds. She had to find Pascal, and she had to find him quickly. Mayhap he would know the truth of the matter.

Hurrying back to the castle, she looked everywhere for her cousin, but he was nowhere to be found.

Finally, she left a message upon his desk, and wiping the sweat from her brow, exited his chamber and tiptoed through the passageways of Edinburgh Castle as silent as a wraith.
Òsti
, but she found the situation almost unbearable, nothing like she had imagined it would be when she’d dreamt of receiving the tongue on her viper tattoo. Becoming an assassin had all seemed so dazzling then. She sorely needed to calm herself. Mayhap she would ask the maids to draw a lavender bath.