Ruin
Five of the queen’s guards stood in a half circle around the steps leading to the postern gate. Alarmed, Taran quickened his stride. Had the MacKenzie clansmen been discovered masquerading as the queen’s guard?
“What madness is this?” he barked as he arrived.
The guards stood aside at once.
To his relief, the clansmen were already gone. Only the man he’d knocked out before sat on the ground, rubbing his jaw in confusion.
“’Twas an attack, my lord,” the man said.
“An attack of the wine bottle, mayhap” another snorted dryly.
“Mayhap two.” Another guard held up a flask before giving it a whiff. He grimaced. “Nay, ‘tis stronger than wine.”
“Nay, ‘twas an attack,” the man insisted. “I was struck down. Ask Eldric. He saw them himself, those who struck me down. He saw them when he roused me.”
Taran arched a brow. Eldric wasn’t part of the plan. Who was the man? What had he seen? ‘Twas a loose end he’d have to handle.
Turning to the men, he snapped, “’Tis clear ye canna protect Her Majesty unaided.”
To the man, they began to object. He didn’t care. ‘Twas the perfect excuse to involve his own men and insure the matter died, then and there. He gave a shrill whistle.
At once, Doughall and several clansmen stepped out from the shadows.
“Mind the gates.” Taran ordered.
After taking one look at the gray-braided mountain-of-a-man, the grumbling of the queen’s guard subsided, and Taran knew the matter would die quickly enough.
With a jerk of his head for the nearest clansmen to follow, Taren strode across the courtyard to the base of the north tower.
There, he pulled the man aside and murmured, “There’s a queen’s man here, one named Eldric. Find him and learn what he knows.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Taran ascended the steps and stepped out onto the wall, wary and on edge. Until he found Eldric and learned what he knew, danger still hung over their heads. He ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes. When would the nightmare end?
The castle bustled with life, more than he’d seen since he’d first stepped foot in the place months ago.
Servants bustled to and fro, bearing chests and other household items from the carts parked in the lower courtyard to the keep.
Apparently, the queen planned on staying in Haddon Hall for quite some time.
Absently, Taran leaned against the wall to wait for news and to watch.
‘Twas some time later when he saw the five men hurrying out of the keep and across the castle grounds. Their long, purposeful strides and squared shoulders caught his eye. As they passed into the torchlight, he spied Lord Haddon at the forefront with the captain of the queen’s guard close on his heels.
When they neared the laundry, they suddenly veered toward the door.
Taran launched himself off the wall and dove for the tower stairs.
Moll. Had someone seen her? By the time he burst through the door, it was to find her cowering on the floor, her hands covering her mouth in horror.
The sight hit Taran like a punch to the gut. “What is this?”
“’Tis treachery.” Lord Haddon whirled, a muscle twitching on his jaw.
“Nay, ‘tis witchcraft,” the captain of the queen’s guard supplied. “’Tis clear she’s casting a spell.”
“A spell?” Taran forced his voice to reflect a calm he did not feel.
“She was seen outside the castle, and now, she’s back again,” the captain replied. “There was no way to enter. The devil himself came to her aid.”
The devil? Taran snorted. “’Tis nonsense.”
“Then, explain this?” the captain pointed the toe of his boot to the mushrooms scattered about the floor. “’Tis the devil’s work.”
Before Taran could respond, the man crushed the mushrooms under his heel.
“No!” Moll gasped.
The sound nearly ripped Taran’s heart from his chest, but he kept his eyes trained on the queen’s captain. “’Tis nonsense. The lot. The lass was with me.”
The captain’s steely gaze latched onto him. “Then you conspire against the queen?”
Taran lifted a cool brow of disdain. “Dare ye utter such false accusations against me?”
The man had the grace to avert his gaze.
“Aye,” Taran murmured. ‘Twas telling. Beneath it all, the man was more talk than anything else. Hardening his voice, Taran warned, “Touch one hair on Moll’s head, and ye’ll not live to see the dawn.”
At the words, the captain’s head snapped back. “I don’t take well to threats, even from nobles, my lord.”
Taran curled his lip and gave a harsh laugh. “’Twasn’t a threat, but a promise, I assure ye.” Then, ignoring the man outright, he turned to Lord Haddon. “Are ye not the master of your own house?”
“’Tis no foolish accusation this man brings.” Lord Haddon bristled. “Moll was seen outside the gates and this very night.”
Taran snorted in cool disdain. “By who?”
“Eldric. ’Twas Eldric, the queen’s man.”
Damnation. “And just who might this Eldric be?”
“’Tis Eldric, the pig-scalder—”
This time, there was no need to feign contempt. “A pig-scalder? Dare ye take the word of a pig-scalder over my own?” Taran lifted his brow in challenge. “I’ll say it again and for the last time. Moll was with me.”
Lord Haddon cleared his throat and as if in apology said, “I’ve my heir to protect, MacKenzie.”
“’Tis the queen’s safety that is at stake,” the queen’s guard snapped. Nodding at his men, he ordered, “Take her away.”
Before they could move, Taran stepped forward, blocking their path. “Walk with care, Haddon,” he warned in a low voice. “Know I am a vengeful man.”
The man drew a sharp breath. “I obey the queen.”
Taran leveled him a look. Once, he very well might have said those words himself. No more. “Only a fool follows blindly.”
They faced each other with jaws locked and gazes wary.
“Join me in my chamber until we reach the heart of the matter,” Lord Haddon said before turning to the captain. “Moll will wait here.”
‘Twas clear the captain much preferred to toss Moll into a cell, but at Taran’s scowl, he clamped his mouth shut, apparently thinking much better of the idea.
“Very well,” he muttered before addressing his men. “For now, the witch stays here. Guard her well.” He pointed to the corner and added, “She’ll stay there, away from the tools of her craft.”
As his men lifted Moll to her feet, Taran turned away. There would be time—soon—to comfort her, but he hadn’t a second to spare if he wished to keep her from hanging outside the castle gates.
Furious, he strode from the laundry. He stopped at the postern gate first.
Doughall took one look at his face, then asked, “And what have the fools done, lad?”
“Keep her safe,” Taran ordered after a quick explanation of the events.
“Aye, my lord.”
“And Eldric?” They needed to reach the man first.
“No word, my lord.”
Taran nodded and turned away. At least, Moll was safe. If matters came to a head, he’d battle his way out of the castle gates and ride off with her to the Highlands, but ‘twas a dangerous path. And the children? He gritted his teeth. Nay, diplomacy was the only way to keep them all safe, unharmed.
Scowling, he strode into Lord Haddon’s private chamber behind the great hall. ‘Twas a simple room. Comfortable. Several cushioned wooden chairs stood before the fire with a chess table betwixt them and a table with books by the door.
Lord Haddon looked up as he arrived.
“And how are you settling this matter?” Taran asked, driving directly to the point.
“I’ve sent for the pig-scalder,” the man replied. “’Tis the only witness.”
Taran said nothing but folded his arms.
Silence reigned. Neither man spoke. Indeed, what was there to say? That he thought the man a foolish weakling the way he bowed to the captain’s will? ‘Twould hardly serve his cause.
An hour passed, one in which Taran stood only a hairsbreadth away from leaving to rush to Moll’s side instead. Then, at last, the captain of the queen’s guard stood at the chamber door.
“Eldric cannot be found, my lord,” he announced.
Taran looked up from where he leaned against the mantle and gave a snort of contempt.
“Then, we’ll readjourn in the morning, when he is found,” Lord Haddon announced, rising to his feet.
“And Moll?” Taran asked softly.
“She’ll stay the night where she is, MacKenzie,” Lord Haddon replied, refusing to meet Taran’s gaze. “’Tis safer for us all.”
Taran’s lip lifted in scorn. Lady Haddon had made a foolish choice of husband. Disgusted, he watched the man stride down the hall, his head and shoulders bowed, with the arrogant young captain at his side.
The return to the castle laundry was a quick one.
Two MacKenzie clansmen stood guard at the door.
They nodded in the silent assurance that Moll was still safe within, and then stood aside to let him pass.
Mayhap Lord Haddon had a point. With his men standing guard, Moll was much safer than imprisoned elsewhere within easy reach of the queen’s guard.
Her guards looked up as he entered, but he ignored them entirely.
Then, he was at Moll’s side, gathering her in his arms.
“Charlotte,” she whispered, burying her nose against his chest. “I fear she will not last the night.”
Taran cradled her close, her body as tight as a bow. Of course, her thoughts would be for the children first. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head, never respecting her more.
“I could have healed them both, Taran.” Her tears dampened his shirt.
“Both?”
“Lady Haddon. She suffers the same malady,” came the heartrending reply.
Taran clamped his jaw. Lord Haddon was a fool of the highest order. “Anger consumes me like fire, lass.”
She lifted her head and caught his face between her hands. “There’s no time for that. You must go to her, Taran. Charlotte. She needs you. She wants so much to believe you’re her father. If there’s anyone who can give her the hope, the strength to hold on, ‘twill be you.”
Taran stared at the tears spilling down Moll’s cheeks. How had things careened out of control so quickly? And Charlotte? The thought of the wee sprite lying broken on the bed tore his heart, even as the thought of leaving Moll alone, in danger of the gallows, weighed on him, as well.