Chapter Nineteen #2
Grace blinked at her, confused. “You left him with a note. He’s gone.”
Laria stared at her. “I wrote no note, and I surely didn’t tie myself up and leave myself gagged in the dark.”
Grace blinked. Who had done this? Surely not Iain. Jasper?
“Help me,” Laria said. “Please, Grace.”
“Of course.” Grace used her blade to saw through the rope tying Laria’s feet. “So you didn’t leave him a note telling him you wouldn’t marry him and for him to go home?” She couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice.
“No, I didn’t. Has his ship sailed?” Even with her hands still bound, Laria managed to get her feet under herself to stand.
“Who wrote the note, then? Who tied you up and left you here?”
“Jasper Whitt,” Laria said, keeping Grace’s gaze. “Under orders from Iain.”
“Jasper Whitt lies,” Grace said, snapping the words, even though her heart thudded and a shiver ran through her. Could Iain have really ordered his cousin snatched from her room? No. Impossible.
Laria’s lips clenched tightly, and she looked at the blade in Grace’s hands. “Please let me go.”
Grace gasped. Did Laria think she was holding the knife toward her as a prelude to violence? Grace lowered the blade to the folds of her petticoat.
Laria’s gaze followed it. Her voice sounded small, pained. “I did not write any letter to your brother.” She turned her face to the door, her words a whisper. “I would have said yes.”
Did Grace want this strange woman for a sister-in-law? Would Laria hurt Cyrus more by wedding him or by leaving him? Either way, she couldn’t leave a woman trapped.
“I’m going to cut the rope at your wrists.” She waited for Laria’s nod before circling behind the woman. “Iain didn’t do this. You don’t know him the way I do. I’m his wife.”
Grace sawed at the rope until it broke. Laria rubbed her wrists and turned to stare at her.
“You’ve been his wife for less than a week, Grace.
I’ve been Iain’s cousin for over two decades.
” Determination battled with fear in her wide eyes.
“He…has had issues since we were children. Anger would erupt over the smallest things, and he rarely controlled himself.” She reached and clasped Grace’s arm.
Grace managed to keep herself from flinching from the rough skin of the woman’s burned hands, but she couldn’t draw in breath.
“Only his nursemaid, Penny, could whisper in his ear to calm him. ’Twas like she had a hold over his emotions. His mother saw it eventually and sent her away.”
“He calls all his maids Penny,” Grace murmured, a wave of unease rising in her middle.
“He never forgave his mother for that. I think it…broke him. He became crueler then and refused to have anyone…impaired near him. Like his brother.”
Grace pulled in an even breath. She’d had lots of practice breathing evenly when her father was bellowing. “You are wrong, Laria. Jasper is behind all of this. He has Iain’s mother’s wedding ring in his cottage.”
“It could have been placed there, or Iain could have said he could keep it for killing her.” Laria’s lips pressed tight as she stared at Grace. “Why would Jasper kill Jane Macqueen unless Iain ordered him to? She was powerless, and her ring wasn’t worth much.”
Grace shook her head. “Perhaps to disrupt everything around him so he could feel powerful.” That’s what Iain had told her when she’d asked the same question. Grace shrugged. “I don’t know, but Iain surely wouldn’t order someone to kill his mother.”
“Iain ordered me to kill Cyrus the night of the masquerade, and his mistress used to be Winnie Mar, whom I’ve heard likes to kill with mushrooms.”
Grace narrowed her eyes, holding onto her resolve. “Iain actually spoke to you about killing Cy?”
Laria’s lips curled in. “Damn it, no. He sent Jasper.”
The tightness in Grace’s chest opened. She squeezed Laria’s arm as she spoke in earnest. “You’ve been tricked like Iain. Jasper wants to disrupt things enough to take over Clan Macqueen.”
Laria held her gaze for a moment, then shook her head, looking down at her bruised wrists. “I need to get to Cyrus.”
Grace dropped her arm. “He’s already aboard his ship.”
“I will swim to him if I must.”
Grace moved to the outer door, blocking Laria’s way. “You swear you didn’t write the note that was left?”
“I swear it on my soul.” Laria shook her head. “Cyrus hasn’t seen my handwriting. I took nothing with me when I escaped the first time, and my letters have all since been destroyed.”
Grace looked around the small enclosure and exhaled in an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll get you out of the tower.” She held up a hand when Laria opened her mouth. “Without telling Iain, although I’m sure he knows nothing about this. I’ll tell him after you leave.”
Laria caught her arms in her firm grip. “Don’t tell him you helped me, Grace.” She shook her head, her eyes filled with real fear. “He will punish you. Let him discover I’m gone on his own.”
Grace stared at her. She’s delusional. But the prickles on her nape remained. “Very well.”
Laria pushed open the door to the outside, and a cold breeze blew in.
Grace realized that the woman was wearing only a white linen smock under a robe.
The whole ensemble looked stained from lying on the dirty floor at the base of the stairs.
Would she even be able to get there in slippers and a robe? Daingead.
“I can get you clothes from your room if you give me time to get them. Some boots, perhaps,” Grace said.
Laria threw her arms around Grace, hugging her close. Grace’s whole body froze, ready to explode in violent self-defense.
“Thank you,” Laria whispered. “And please keep safe. Don’t let Iain know of any ailments or deficiencies.” She pulled back from the strangely desperate hug. “He’s not a safe person. Never has been.”
The warning in Laria’s voice said she completely believed that Iain was a horrid man. Even though Grace knew she was wrong, a shiver still tore through her like a winter wind across a loch, sending ripples to every edge of the shoreline.