By God's Grace Page 13

  Arbella clasped her hands together and exclaimed, “It is amazing!”

  The expression lining her face was one of wonderment, causing chills to race down his spine. “Aye, it is.”

  He meant her, of course. Maybe she didn’t feel amazing, beautiful, radiant, or any of those other things he had called her. Her carefully arranged hair had started coming loose. Little tendrils stuck to her neck. Her large bosom strained against the corset as she worked to breathe deeply after the exhilarating hike. Dirt was smeared down one side of the blue gown, and small rips and tears lined the edge. But what Duncan saw was amazing.

  A large, smooth boulder next to the pond’s edge was found, and she sat upon it. A handful of water was scooped up and allowed to dribble down her sweat-drenched face and onto her neck. She had no idea the tantalizing picture she presented. Perhaps for all his boasting, it would be him begging for affections and not Arbella.

  While she faced the water, he laid out a cloth and all the food items.

  “I do hope it is time to eat. I’m famished,” she said, as she finished studying the water.

  All Duncan could say was, “Aye.”

  They ate about the same way they had ridden, in silence. Indeterminable time passed, and Arbella said quite forcefully, “We must have speech.”

  “Aye. What about?”

  “Oh I don’t care. Anything! The silence is maddening!”

  Duncan laughed. “Agreed.”

  “Besides,” she said. “How will we ever get to know one another if we never speak of that which we want to know?”

  Duncan exploded in riotous laughter. “Ye do have a point. Even if I am not exactly sure I understood what ye said. Go ahead with yer learning endeavors.”

  Arbella straightened, shifting around until she presented a prim and proper type of pose. “Laird Sinclair,” she began, “what have you been doing since I saw you ten years ago?”

  The crystal blue sky spread out above him. A type of wistfulness filled him. He whispered, “Runnin’ from my destiny.”

  Curious, she asked, “What do you mean?”

  Duncan settled in for an extended conversation. Laying back on the cover and placing folded hands behind his head, he was just about to speak when Arbella interrupted him. “Oh, forget I asked that question. What I really want to know is why you didn’t leave with those girls while you were loading the wagon the day of my last visit.”

  Duncan debated about whether to tell her. After a little healthy stalling, he decided to just tell her the truth. “That’s what ye want to know, is it?”

  “Aye, Duncan. That is what I have always wanted to know,” said Arbella, lowering her gaze.

  Duncan decided to answer. “I knew ye were watching me.”

  “Oh,” she said, her disappointment evident.

  He lifted a shoulder. “I didna wish for ye to have a bad opinion of me. Ye were such an innocent. Like my sister in so many ways.”

  Arbella sighed. “Like a sister?”

  “Well, of course. Ye were tugging at my shirttails when ye were a wee lass, calling me ‘Uncan’ just like Alison. Ye came for a long visit each summer. Ye were a gangly, skinny little thing that year, and I would have dearly loved to have pulled on yer braids.”

  Arbella groaned.

  She didn’t seem pleased with his answer. The urge to comfort her assailed him. To do so would no doubt lead to currently off-limit pursuits. Relaxed in a prone position, he said, “Arbella, time does change things.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I no longer have brotherly feelings toward ye.”

  Arbella blushed. “It’s your turn.”

  “My turn?”

  “Aye, to ask me a question.”

  Duncan knew about her past because of the discussion with Jamus, so he didn’t want to waste a question on a repeat of information, but there were some questions he wanted answers to. “Why did ye come here and compete in the tournament? Why did ye let Jamus convince ye to compete on behalf of the Kincade clan? Why did ye sneak out of yer room to have dinner with a group of rowdy Scottish men? Why—”

  Before another question was asked, Arbella leaned over and pressed against his arm, placing a finger across his open lips. “Wait a minute. If you keep going, I will never be able to answer all your questions.”

  When the finger was removed and she sat back, Duncan snuck in one more question. “Why aren’t ye already married? Ye are twenty-three!”

  Arbella’s breath rushed out in an exhale. “I would have thought you would have this all figured out by now.”

  “Nay. If I did, lass, I wouldn’t have asked ye.”

  “Very well, Duncan. You were honest with me, so I will answer as honestly as I am able with you. First of all, Jamus found me on the farm alone.”

  Duncan interrupted, “Why did ye go there when ye father died? Ye should have returned to ye clan.”

  Arbella’s gaze cast downward. Sadness filled her expression as she whispered, “I did, but no one wanted me.”

  Affected by her words, he reached out to touch her, but she didn’t want comfort. Leaving his side, she returned to the water’s edge alone and sat before speaking again. “Jonas and Martha had no children, and I was fourteen years old. I wanted to maintain a family setting. Besides Jonas favored father so much it was almost like still being with him.

  “As for your other question, when Jamus arrived at the farm, I had been alone for almost two years, and I believe I would have jumped at the chance to leave with just about anyone. I admit I didn’t particularly look forward to competing in the tournament, but Jamus assured me it was the only way to impress a certain Scottish Laird.”

  “Humph.”

  “As to your last question about having dinner with a bunch of rowdy Scotsmen, I must confess that was the most enjoyment I’ve had in a long time. In fact, I’ve never had so much fun. Being in a room with so many people all communicating at one time was—” she paused while looking for the right word.

  “Chaotic?”

  “Nay, I was going to say ‘heavenly’.”

  Duncan laughed. “Ye have an odd impression of heaven, my dear.”

  Arbella climbed off the rock. “The day is getting away from us. Maybe we should head back.”

  “Aye, we should.”

  They packed up the food stores and the blanket and headed back to the tethered horses.

  Once they arrived at the wood’s edge, Duncan placed the food basket on the horse’s rump and tied it into place. As soon as he was finished securing the basket, he turned to help Arbella mount her horse, but she wasn’t next to him. Panic rose in his throat. Before worry got the better of him, there was a high-pitched whistle. His eyes roved, landing in the middle of the field of high grass. There stood Arbella waving. A hand reached forward, picked up a flower, and brought it to an upturned nose. The blossom’s fragrance was sniffed. Then Arbella peered over the rim of the petals, winked, and took off running.

  Unsure what Arbella was up to, he took off after her, giving a merry chase. The spectators at the tournament claimed the lass ran like a gazelle, and Duncan agreed. Arms pumping beside him, he wondered if he was ever going to catch her. With merriment, the lass repeatedly glanced over her shoulder. The look egged him on. She was practically begging him to catch her. Finally, he caught up. Now, how could he stop her without hurting her? Lunging forward, he tackled Arbella, rolling to absorb the shock of impact.

  When they landed, Arbella was under him. Her chest heaved with exertion. Their heads were inches apart. The wish to claim the soft lips overwhelmed him, but he refrained. His body was stretched full upon her own. The gown had hiked up to her knee, and his bare calf lay against hers, pinning her to the ground.

  “Duncan?”

  “Aye?”

  “That was amusing. Can we do it again?”

  Duncan rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky. He laughed while gaining control of his raging emotions. “Lass, today I think I have enough bruises from
getting to know you. Maybe we should forego the chase for a different time, aye?”

  Standing, he grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. With bowed head and a wink, she added, “As you wish.”

  Before he finished dusting off his kilt, she had taken off at full speed toward the waiting horses.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lyall found her father in the study. Memories from the past flooded her mind. Rab Burns spent most of her childhood in this room, plotting and scheming. He claimed that he needed to hide away because of grief from the loss of her mother. But she knew the truth. Rumors abounded about his real reason. His goal in life had been to acquire as much property and land as possible by any means necessary. Men were robbed blind, and they didn’t even know it, as Rab Burns, master negotiator, exploited their weaknesses. Friends and enemies were both subjected to his charms.

  The Burns’s laird had used spies, servants, and even his own daughter to bring him financial gain. But this day he was hardly plotting. With a walking stick in hand, the once powerful man was now an ancient, struggling to get around a room.

  “Father?”

  Laird Burns stopped in mid-stride and glared. “So the wolf returns to the den. What do ye want?”

  “Why, father. What a way to treat yer only living heir.”

  A sad, sadistic laugh flowed from the depths of his throat. “What is the tale now, my sweet?”

  Lyall avoided answering the question and asked one of her own. “Did ye hear of Cainneach?”

  Rab faced her, a frown deepening on his wrinkled visage. “Nay, what news of Cainneach should I have heard?”

  “Why, that he has been dead for many months.”

  Impressively her father held his surprise. “If ye have come back for yer bard, the man left a long time ago.”

  Lyall ran a finger across the sideboard, picking up dust. Disgusted, she grinned. “Father, I am not here for the bard. In fact, I knew he was no longer here.”

  “But how could ye have known?” Pleasure consumed her as she watched recognition dawn. “Yer lover went with ye? He went with ye to the Sinclair keep?”

  Lyall shrugged. “He followed a little behind me, but aye, he came.”

  Rab sent a cursory look around the room. Lyall snickered as her father searched for the poet and musician. “Father, don’t worry. He is not here with me.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Oh, he had to be taken care of. He betrayed us.”

  “Us?”

  “Sori and myself.”

  “So Sori is still with ye, is she?”

  “Aye. She never leaves my side.”

  “Just lovely,” was muttered underneath his breath.

  “What did ye say?”

  “Nothing of any consequence. If ye didn’t come back for the bard, why did ye come back?”

  “Refuge,” escaped between her clenched teeth before she added, “I just need to visit for a few days. I will be gone before ye know it.”

  As Rab struggled to devise a reply, Lyall stalked to the window and stared outside. The Sinclair men shifted and kicked at the dusty ground. They’d only been at the keep a couple of hours, and already they were restless and couldn’t wait to return home.

  She had considered staying here with her father and sending the Sinclair men back. Why, she might even stay and raise her daughter in the family keep. But, what of Duncan? Surely he missed her presence. Sighing to herself and allowing her shoulders to sag, she realized it wouldn’t be right to make him worry. There might have to be a change of plans.

  ****

  Rab didn’t believe Lyall’s story. His daughter could have stayed at the keep for days, and he may not have noticed her presence, but she had specifically sought him out. What could be her reasoning? Extreme caution was called for.

  Although he’d never had any way to prove it, he believed Lyall and Sori had killed his second wife. This had caused him to hide his infant son from discovery.

  If truth be told, she probably found a way to dispose of Cainneach as well. In the afterlife all these deaths would be blamed on him, he guessed.

  When he could stand the wondering no longer, he asked, “Refuge from what?” How long could she mean to stay at the keep? Loath to admit it even to himself, the truth was nothing good ever came from his daughter.

  “Like I said, it will only be for a few days.”

  Rab hesitated. What was an appropriate reply? If he didn’t answer soon, the risk of her voice deepening, eyes darkening, and her ”friend” rearing her ugly head was more of a possibility. Quickly he added, “Ye may stay as long as ye like.”

  Without turning to face him, she asked, “Have ye fixed yer will?”

  Rab swallowed. As far as Lyall was concerned, she was his only living heir. He would sooner leave his wealth to a herd of swine than to leave it to her. Sometimes he wondered what had made his little girl this way. Her mother had been such a sweet woman, who loved and took care of everyone. Unfortunately, she expired when Lyall was just a wee lass. In retrospect he should have married right away, giving Lyall another mother, but in his grief he’d hidden himself away from the world, taking solace in this very room. He’d rarely seen Lyall. She’d been forced to come up with her own entertainment. Thus Sori was born.

  “Aye, lass, my property is set to be given out.”

  A hand passed in front of her, encompassing the land as Lyall asked, “And which servant is set to inherit it all?”

  Fear rose within. What would Lyall do once she knew she would not inherit the property? Head held high, Rab told the truth, praying it wasn’t a mistake. “The head of my guard will inherit my land. He is extremely loyal. He has a young wife, and, and—”

  “And what, Father?”

  “And nothing.”

  “Well, I am sure they will be verra happy here.”

  Curiosity prompted him, “What are yer plans, Lyall?”

  Before she answered, the corner of her eyelid twitched. A hand reached up and touched the motion. Next her shoulder jerked. A pent-up sigh was released. “Thank ye for telling me this valuable information. Just to let ye know, I don’t know about Lyall’s plans, but I, Sori, plan to give Lyall’s daughter to the captain of the guard, for every young family needs a child. That way after I kill ye, Lyall’s blood will still have a claim to the keep.”

  Rab was stunned by the unexpected mention of a child. Then awareness hit. His end would come by Lyall’s hand. He found himself asking, “Lyall and Cainneach had a daughter?”

  Sori snickered. “Are ye stupid, ol’ man? Lyall and I told ye Cainneach would never touch us, and he never did. Lyall wanted to give in when she saw how handsome Cainneach was, but I refused to let her. Our bard lover, as ye called him, came with us. Stupid Cainneach gave him the job as taste tester, which worked perfectly for our plans. No, Cainneach wasn’t the father. Lyall’s daughter belonged to the bard.”

  Sori picked up a dagger from a drawer in the desk and began digging under her nails as she spoke. “The bard, may he rest in peace, began to tell Duncan of Lyall’s involvement in Cainneach’s death, so we had to kill him.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? What a stupid question? If they discovered Lyall had spiked Cainneach’s food with wisteria root, they might also have discovered I added belladonna to it.”

  “So Lyall’s intention was to make him sick to his stomach?”

  “Aye, just as she did with her step-mother. Lyall never truly had the stomach to take another’s life.”

  Rab wept. Before him stood not one person, but two. A victim of loss in her young life had caused these woes. He now knew of four lives Lyall had needlessly taken, and he was sure to be the fifth.

  “Would ye ask Lyall to speak with me?”

  Sori stopped cleaning her nails and began tossing the dagger from hand to hand. “Why would ye wish to speak with her?”

  “Perhaps I would like to say good-bye.”

  Sori erupted in evil laughter. “Do ye think ye can change
her mind?”

  Sadly, he said, “Nay, I don’t even think I want to try.”

  “Ye are so pitiful,” said Sori.

  In the next instant, Lyall’s body relaxed. The dagger fell and clattered to the floor. With a sigh, she said, “I wish Sori wouldn’t have told ye the plan.”

  “It’s all right.”

  A crazy sound escaped. “Sori wants to kill ye, and ye think it is all right?”

  “Aye. I guess I do. I need to tell ye something. I owe ye an apology.”

  Lyall’s body started doing a series of funny jerks, landing in a heap on the floor. Then she regained control and stood up, running to her father and dropping down onto one knee in front of him. A hand was placed on her head, “I forgive ye all ye have done, and I love ye.”

  ****

  Lyall glanced up into Rab’s aged face, smiled, and rammed the dagger into his ribcage, giving it a twist as she felt it pass bone. His life’s blood spilled down his body and ran toward her hand and arm. With a rough jerk back, she made sure to keep clean. She straightened from the floor, doing a thorough inspection to ensure she remained free of blood.

  “I told ye he would try to change our minds.”

  “Sori, it was verra clever of ye to let him believe it was always ye doing the killing. Next time, don’t take all the credit, or I might have to do away with ye as well.”

  Sori laughed. “As if ye could.”

  “Oh, enough of this. We have work to do.” With a swirl of skirts, Lyall left the study, closing the door behind her.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Arbella enjoyed their day together, from the horseback ride to the meal at the pond, the race through the heather, and the dinner with the keep inhabitants later that evening. They had one more day left before the wedding, and she couldn’t think of anything Duncan could do that would top the day they’d just had.

  While enjoying each other’s company, they briefly discussed having a small ceremony. Arbella was set for a feast and a celebration, but Duncan feared the chaos of the event would encourage the murderer to strike again. Arbella asked Duncan if he wished to postpone the nuptials until his sister-in-law, Lyall, returned, but he assured her it was unnecessary.