Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Glory is like a circle in the water, which never ceaseth to enlarge itself till, by broad spreading, it disperse to naught.”
Cyrus held a casual expression on his face like a mask.
Bloody hell, he didn’t want to leave Laria, but he also didn’t want her anywhere near Iain.
Jasper was gone, but Winnie Mar was on the loose.
She might still be around Dunscaith. Kenan had returned there as soon as Tomas brought the news about Gilbert.
Cyrus had met the blond woman a time or two when he’d visited Rory at Dunvegan, but she’d been in hiding since leaving Dunscaith during the castle fire.
Running off and wedding Gilbert Macdonald, Kenan’s brother, had been a tactical move rather than one of the heart. The woman was guile personified.
“I don’t see Winnie,” Rory murmured beside him as they rowed the boat to the dock along the rocky shore. “Here comes Grace.”
Cyrus’s sister hurried down the path from Tuath Tower, and relief suffused his body. She was alive. He could take her back now. But she stood beside Iain, and she smiled.
Iain raised his arm. “Brother, ye’ve returned. Sooner than anticipated.”
Cyrus and Rory stepped off the nose of the small boat onto the wooden dock.
Cyrus looked closer at Grace. There was strain around her eyes, a darkness there as if she wasn’t sleeping well.
He’d barely been gone two weeks. At this rate, would she look like an old hag by the end of her first year of marriage?
“We’ve come for Winnie Mar,” Cyrus said.
Rory’s boots clipped along beside him. “She’s to be tried for the deaths of Chief Hamish Mackinnon and her own husband, Gilbert Macdonald, both of whom she poisoned with mushrooms.”
“Truly?” Iain asked, looking aghast. “Little Winnie? She can barely lift a child’s sword and certainly wouldn’t harm anyone.” The man was either a good actor or an idiot to believe his past mistress was harmless.
“She’s strong enough to lift mushrooms and place them in the food of unsuspecting people,” Cyrus said. “Do ye know where she is?”
Iain’s smile thinned. “I sent her away before Grace arrived. I wouldn’t insult my bride by allowing my past mistress to stay at Tuath. I have no idea where she is now.”
Did you order her to kill when you sent her away? “She may be hiding here,” Cyrus said aloud and stepped past Iain to take Grace’s arm. Daingead. All he wanted to do was grab Grace, stop Laria from stepping off the ship, and sail them both to safety. Instead, he walked toward Tuath Tower.
“Chief MacLeod,” Iain said, falling in next to Rory behind Cyrus.
“Chief Macqueen,” Rory said. Cyrus had asked him to keep the man talking so that he could assess Grace. Rory cleared his throat. “Terrible weather.”
“Uhh,” Iain glanced around, “rather typical, but aye, terrible.”
Cyrus kept his voice low. “Are ye well, Grace? Is there treachery here?”
Grace squeezed his arm. “My lord husband will tell you that I am handling the servants with a confident hand.” Her voice was raised so that Iain could hear, and she kept her smile.
The tightness in Cyrus’s gut increased. Iain and Rory drew even with them, and Iain pulled Grace to his side. She relinquished Cyrus’s arm.
“Father has passed,” Cyrus said, and Grace’s smile dissolved.
Tears came to her dark eyes, and she stopped on the path.
He wanted to hug her, but Iain wasn’t letting go, so he reached out to squeeze her hand.
“Clan Mackinnon turned out en masse for his funeral, and I have been selected without challenge to be the new chief.”
She blinked, nodding. “That is good.” She didn’t ask about their mother, because she knew Olive Mackinnon would be well and good without her husband.
Had she taught her daughter to also live in a loveless marriage?
Hamish had wed Olive for an alliance with Clan Fraser on the mainland.
She’d given him two sons and a daughter but stayed as far from him as she could.
Life had made her a bitter woman, and a bitter companion had made his father itch for war.
That will not be me. Cyrus’s thought surfaced with determination.
“Let’s go inside to discuss this,” Cyrus said to get them away from the shore so that Laria could land farther down, hidden by the thick mist. He took Grace’s arm, pulling her away from Iain. The man had to let go of her or risk looking like he was playing a game of tug with his wife.
They climbed the path to where Tuath Tower perched overlooking the sea to the north. Macqueen guards stood around the courtyard. Had Iain rallied them when Cyrus’s ship was spotted?
Iain strode past. “Welcome once again to my tower.”
The Great Hall was lit with candles, lamps, and a hearth fire. Everything looked comfortable, which was certainly Grace’s doing. But the feel of the space was stagnant, as if the castle whispered a warning. Tension prickled his warrior instincts.
“Penny,” Iain called to one of the maids. “Bring us refreshment.” The maid, one Cyrus hadn’t seen before, scurried off. Laria said that Iain called all the female servants “Penny.” Did the man think no one would notice? Or didn’t he care?
Iain threw out his arms and turned in a circle. “No blond devil woman here,” he said. “Just yer beautiful, ebony-haired sister, who is now my beloved wife.” He strode over and took Grace’s hand.
Daingead. Cyrus wanted to whisk Grace away to question her.
He wanted answers now. Diplomacy takes time.
He inhaled fully and released the breath.
Cyrus stopped at the hearth, leaning against the mantel.
He noticed that the hill of treats brought by the Marys of the village had been taken away.
“Have ye found Jasper Whitt?” He’d kept the man’s death quiet at Dun Haakon.
The populace had been told that the attacker was a foreign assailant who’d escaped.
The Mackinnons whispered that it had been an English scout for King Henry.
Iain hesitated. “I thoroughly questioned him after ye left for Dun Haakon. He says my mother gave him her ring because she was going to wed Christ. And I received a letter from her from Edinburgh, so she’s obviously alive.
I don’t know what my cousin is playing at, but Jasper is not guilty of such heinous crimes. ”
Cyrus held Iain’s gaze. “Laria was taken by Jasper Whitt. He tied, gagged, threatened, and left her at the bottom of your emergency escape stairs leading from yer bedchamber.”
Iain’s eyes narrowed. “How would ye know anything about my cousin, unless she’s been talking with ye?”
“Why don’t we partake in some food and drink before we get into accusations?” Grace said. Did she worry that he’d give away her role in freeing Laria?
“Laria is far from here,” Cyrus said, “but we’ve spoken. And she said that she was grabbed, threatened, and tied by Whitt but managed to escape.”
Iain’s low-lidded look was full of disdain. “Convenient how she escaped without anyone seeing her, so she could blame Jasper.” He shook his head. “And I believe the man. I’ve known him since I was a lad, and he’d never lie to me. Laria, on the other hand, lies as easily as breathing.”
Talk about lying as easily as breathing. A fist of anger balled in Cyrus’s gut. ’Twas as if the man had convinced himself of his lies so completely that they came across as honesty.
Iain tilted his head like a hound listening for a hiding animal. “So where is she now?”
“Dunscaith,” Cyrus said, “taking her grandmother on progress to foster relations between the clans now that we’ve signed a peace treaty.”
Iain’s brows rose. “So Grandmother is once again sleeping under a roof? Wonderful.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “She must be exhausted from all that travel. It will surely speed her decline into madness.”
Rory crossed his arms. “Lady Sophie seems quite improved. She could probably beat ye at chess.”
Iain blinked, the spot between his eyes pinching together. “She seems well?”
Sophie had played the mad crone so Laria would leave Tuath before Iain could act against her. “Aye,” Cyrus said. “She’s representing Clan Macqueen with dignity and grace.”
“That…is…wonderful,” Iain said. “I will greet her with great happiness when she returns to Tuath Tower.”
“I’m not certain she will,” Cyrus said.
“No?” Iain asked.
“She believes Laria’s concerns about yer leadership and her safety.”
Iain’s smile slipped. “Then Laria has poisoned her with lies.”
“Sophie mentioned a woman named Penny who influenced ye as a child. That she may have turned yer mind.”
Grace froze in her movements next to Iain, but she was diplomatic enough not to gasp.
Iain’s face turned from anger to ice-cold fury. “Penny was my nursemaid and a mother to me when mine only cared about my bent and twisted twin.” The words were shot through with venom.
The maid brought in a tray of tarts, setting them on the table, and several other maids from the kitchen followed with meat pies and dishes of root vegetables. The only noise in the room came from their footfalls and efficient ministrations.
“Let us break our fast,” Grace said, indicating the table. She nodded to the maids. “Thank you.”
Rory looked at Cyrus, his brow raised. Had Grace ever thanked the maids at Dun Haakon? Not that his sister was cruel, but she tended to ignore those she saw as lesser than herself.
Cyrus studied the maids. None of them looked like the blond, petite Winnie Mar, although she could be in the back, adding destroying angel mushrooms to the meal. Would she poison Iain if she were acting on his behalf? Perhaps she was just mad and poisoning everyone.
Both Rory and Cyrus looked at the meat pies and then at each other. “Do ye keep watch over the cooks in yer kitchens?” Rory asked.
Cyrus looked at Grace. “Winnie Mar could have placed poisonous mushrooms in the food.”
Grace set her meat pie back on her plate. “Why would she want to kill us?”
Cyrus raised one eyebrow. “Ye’ve taken her place as the lady here at Tuath Tower.”