To Marry a Scottish Laird

  "Aye. All five of you drank from your goblet. You had two sips, and then offered it to Murine. The girls said you thought she was on the verge of fainting," her aunt explained, not realizing that she was recalling now. "The other girls tried it because you both said it was bitter. They only had one drink. You had two. You all fainted after drinking it, but you stayed asleep longer while the other girls woke by the evening meal."

  "We were poisoned?" Joan asked quietly.

  "It would appear so," Annabel said and then frowned. "But I wonder if whatever was in the drink was meant to kill you or just make you ill. None of you took very ill in the end, so I began to think perhaps it was just meant to make you sleep for a while, but . . ."

  "But?" Joan asked when she paused.

  "But now Lady Finola is dead," Annabel said on a sigh.

  "I thought her death was an accident. Jinny said it was," Joan said solemnly, peering at her hands where they lay in her lap.

  "Most people seem to think that," Annabel agreed.

  "But you don't?"

  "I think 'tis odd that Lady Finola would be up and about and wandering around the castle fully dressed after everyone else had retired."

  Joan lowered her head. She knew exactly what the woman had been doing up at that hour . . . kissing, and who knew what else, with her husband. She didn't say as much however.

  "Also," her aunt continued, "I went to look about in her room after we found her and there was only one candle in a holder in her room. Yet our room has two candles, a holder on either side of the bed, so I asked Lady Sinclair and she said that there should be two of them in Finola's room as well. There is not, and there was no candle holder found near her or on the stairs."

  Joan raised her head slowly. She distinctly recalled Finola carrying a candle as she'd approached Cam in the hall. "What about at the top of the stairs?"

  "Nay."

  Joan bit her lip. "You think someone is attacking the women?"

  "Nay." The brush paused in her hair and then her aunt admitted apologetically, "I fear someone is attempting to hurt you."

  "What?" Joan squawked and whirled around on the chair to peer at her. "But five of us were made ill from the cider, and Lady Finola is the one who--"

  "Five of you were made ill from drinking your cider," Annabel pointed out grimly. "And Lady Finola was wearing your gown."

  Joan stared at her blankly, her mind beginning to whirl with thoughts now. The fact that the girls had all got ill from drinking her cider suggested someone had planned it for her, and Finola had been wearing her gown, she'd seen that for herself. And Cam had no doubt seen that as well, but if someone else had pushed her down the stairs . . . well, when she'd first seen Finola she'd been holding the candle low and out before her, leaving her face in darkness. Someone could have mistaken Finola for her because she was wearing the red and gold gown.

  But Finola had been with Cam when she'd last seen her, she thought again. And she'd had the candle, but the candle was now missing and so was--

  "I need to find my husband," she said suddenly and got to her feet.

  "But I have not finished with your hair," her aunt protested.

  Joan swung back, but grimaced and asked, "Do ladies always have to have their hair piled up on top of their head like a bird's nest? It gives me a headache."

  "Oh, I am sorry. You should have said something. Perhaps we are setting it too tightly. Or it might just be that you are not used to wearing it up." She grimaced and admitted, "But ladies always wear their hair up, Joan, especially once they are married."

  Joan hesitated, but then sat back down in the chair with a little sigh of resignation. If married ladies wore their hair up, she supposed she'd have to as well. She was supposed to be a lady now.

  "I will try to make it looser today," Annabel assured her. "Then we will see how it goes."

  "SON? SON."

  Cam came awake with a start when someone shook his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he peered blankly at the man standing over him. "Da?"

  "Aye. What the de'il are ye doing sleeping in the storage room?"

  Cam began to struggle to his feet. "Joan."

  "She's fine. She's awake."

  Cam glanced past his father to the half dozen servants peering into the room and recognized his wife's maid, Jinny, as she finished: "Lady Annabel is fixing her hair fer her right now."

  "Thank ye, Jinny," he said wearily. He'd pounded at the door and shouted for what had seemed like hours, giving up only when he began to lose his voice. Then he'd sat down to wait, intending to try again to rouse someone's attention once his throat recovered. Instead, he'd drifted off to sleep leaning against the shelves.

  "What the de'il were ye doing sleeping in here?" his father asked, repeating his earlier question.

  Cam grimaced and stretched to remove the kinks from his back. "I came down to get fresh candles and someone closed the door behind me. I shouted and pounded, but everyone was sleeping."

  "When was that?" his father asked sharply.

  Cam shrugged. "Late. The fire in the great hall was nearly out."

  "Ye did no' happen to stumble o'er Lady MacFarland's body at the bottom o' the stairs, did ye?"

  "What?" Cam asked with bewilderment.

  "Ne'er mind. Lady Finola must ha'e taken her tumble after that," Laird Sinclair muttered almost to himself. "What the de'il was she doing up at that hour?"

  "Lady Finola took a tumble?" Cam asked with amazement.

  "Aye. Broke her neck in a fall down the stairs," his father said on a sigh and shook his head. " 'Tis a good thing it was her and no' one o' the other lasses. Sad as it is to admit it, the MacFarlands'll no' miss the lass." Grimacing, he added, "In fact, I do no' think anyone will."

  "Aye," Cam agreed solemnly. The woman had not troubled to endear herself to anyone as far as he could tell. And while he should be sorry to hear of her demise, he wasn't terribly sorry to have her out of his hair.

  "Well, come, ye must be ready to break yer fast after the night ye had," his father said, urging him toward the door.

  Cam nodded, but paused and turned to first gather the candles he'd come for last night.

  "I'll take 'em up," Jinny offered, stepping forward as he reached the door.

  "Go on, give 'em to the lass," his father suggested. "We need to discuss who should take the message to the MacFarlands. A simple messenger won't do for news like this."

  Sighing, Cam reluctantly handed the candles to Jinny and followed his father out to the trestle tables. They were about to sit down when he suddenly glanced around and, spotting Jinny heading for the stairs, called her over.

  "Ye said Joan is fine, but how fine is she?" he asked when the maid reached him.

  Jinny considered the question briefly and then shrugged. "She seems good as new."

  "Well enough to take a ride with me?" Cam asked.

  Jinny nodded. "I think so."

  "Thank ye," Cam murmured, and turned to settle at the table. He hadn't forgotten what Lady MacKay had said to him last night. He needed to talk to his wife, away from the castle and its people. He would use riding lessons as the excuse to get her away, and then say what needed saying to her.

  "YOU ARE AWFULLY QUIET, JOAN. WHAT IS ON YOUR MIND?" Annabel asked as she braided her hair.

  Joan hesitated, but then blurted, "She had a candle."

  "What?" Annabel bent and twisted around to see her face. "Who did?"

  "Finola," Joan admitted, biting her lip.

  Annabel dropped the braids she'd been making and moved around in front of her so that she could see her face as they talked. "Last night?"

  Joan nodded.

  "You saw her last night?" Annabel asked slowly, as if wanting to be sure they understood each other.

  "Aye. I saw her last night," Joan said wearily and lowered her head. "I woke up alone. The candles were dying, but I had no clothes. I wrapped the bed linen around myself and looked out in the hall. I was hoping to hail a passing servant to ask to fetch th
e candles, but the hall was in near darkness, 'twas obvious everyone had retired . . . and then I saw someone standing by the stairs."

  "Finola?" Annabel guessed.

  "Nay. The person was in shadow, I couldn't see who it was at first, and then candlelight appeared from further up the hall, moving toward the stairs."

  "It was Finola with the candle?" Annabel prompted when she paused.

  Joan sighed and nodded her head.

  "Who was the person by the stairs?" Annabel asked.

  "Cam," she whispered and then rushed on. "Finola raised the candle, I saw it was her and that she was wearing my dress. And then she--she kissed Cam," she got out, her voice cracking as she said it.

  "Oh, sweetling," Annabel murmured, bending to hug her. Rubbing her back soothingly, she asked, "What did he do?"

  Joan shook her head and admitted, "I didn't see. I just closed the door and got back in bed." She cleared her throat as Annabel straightened to peer at her sympathetically and then added, "I waited for him to return to bed, but he never did and I thought they must be . . ."

  Annabel reached out and squeezed her hand.

  Joan smiled weakly, appreciating the supportive gesture. "Now I'm not sure what to think. Finola's dead and Cam is missing, and the candle--" She snapped her mouth closed and glanced quickly to the door when it opened. Jinny slipped in.

  "Is something amiss, Jinny?" Joan asked, noting the excited flush to her cheeks.

  "Someone locked yer husband in the storeroom last night," she blurted, almost dancing on her feet.

  "What?" Joan and Annabel asked together.

  The maid nodded excitedly. "Aye. Laird Sinclair went to get something out of the storeroom just moments ago and noticed it was unlocked, but the bar was down. When he opened it he found yer husband inside, sleeping against the shelves. It turns out he came down in search of candles last night after everyone retired, but someone closed the door behind him and dropped the bar in place. He says he pounded and yelled, but everyone was asleep and no one came to let him out."

  Joan glanced to Annabel to find her peering back.

  "Oh, he asked me to bring these up." Jinny held up the candles she carried. "I should clean out the holders and put the new ones in."

  "Did he have a candleholder with him?" Annabel asked suddenly, her gaze still firmly on Joan.

  "Yer husband?" Jinny asked and shook her head. "Nay. He was in the dark when his father opened the storeroom door and there were none about that I saw."

  "Thank you," Annabel murmured and moved behind Joan to continue with her hair as Jinny quickly cleaned the melted tallow off the candleholders and placed the fresh candles in them.

  "You thought Cam might have pushed Finola down the stairs?" Joan asked as soon as Jinny left the room again.

  "Nay," Annabel answered calmly and when Joan turned to peer over her shoulder at her, added, "I knew you did though, and thought you should hear the answer to that question."

  Joan turned slowly forward again and then asked, "You really didn't think he--"

  "Nay," Annabel assured her solemnly. "And I do not think he encouraged or responded to Finola's kiss. But then I have known Campbell for most of his life. I know what kind of man he is. You have only known him for weeks, and while I think you have a good understanding of what kind of man he is, of course you will doubt yourself if given evidence like seeing another woman kissing him."

  Joan let her breath out slowly and nodded. In truth, she never would have imagined that Cam might have had anything to do with Finola tumbling down the stairs before she'd seen the woman kiss him. She didn't think she'd really believed he could even afterward, which is why she'd been so shocked when Lady Annabel had asked her question about whether Cam had the candleholder with him when found in the storeroom.

  "Joan?"

  "Hmm?" She tore herself from her thoughts and glanced over her shoulder in question.

  "Cam and I sat together for quite a while waiting for you to wake up, and while he did not say it, I am quite sure he feels deeply for you. And I know you feel deeply for him."

  "I do," Joan admitted, and then sighed and lowered her head. "But he has hardly spoken a word to me since we arrived at Sinclair. The only time I see him is--"

  "When you slip out at night to meet him?" Annabel suggested with amusement.

  Joan glanced swiftly around. "You knew?"

  "Aye," she said with amusement. "At least I assumed that was where you were slipping off to at night."

  "Aye, well," Joan turned to face forward again. "He doesn't speak to me then either."

  "He was hurt when you said you did not want to come to Sinclair with him," Annabel murmured quietly. "He is unsure of your feelings and fears you resent him for the forced marriage."

  "What?" She turned with surprise again. "I thought he--"

  "I know," her aunt interrupted quietly, setting a chaplet on her head and weaving the braids she'd placed Joan's hair in through it. "You both seem to be assuming a lot about each other that simply is not so. The two of you need to actually talk to each other and sort these things out. If someone is out to hurt you, the two of you need to work together. 'Tis better if these issues between you and Cam are resolved.

  "There," she added, stepping back as she finished with Joan's hair. "How does that feel?"

  "It's less tight," Joan admitted.

  "Let us hope that it resolves the issue of your headaches," Annabel said on a sigh. "Now, come. We should go below, break our fast and find out if anything else has occurred that we should know about. These things often happen in threes," she added dryly as she led the way to the door.

  Chapter 15

  "I'M SORRY I WAS NO' THERE WHEN YE WOKE THIS MORNING."

  Joan glanced around when Cam whispered that apology by her ear. He was standing behind where she sat at the trestle table next to her aunt and she wondered briefly how he'd approached without her noticing. He hadn't been at the table when she and Annabel had come below moments ago, but his father had explained that Cam was out at the stables seeing his brother off. It seemed that he and a small group of Sinclair warriors would carry the news of Finola's death, as well as her body, back to MacFarland. It was thought that a member of the family should deliver the sad news rather than just a clan member. Douglas had volunteered to perform the deed.

  "Ye have no' already eaten, have ye?" Cam asked.

  "Nay, we just sat down," she admitted.

  "Good." Smiling, he held out his hand. "Come with me."

  Joan hesitated, but then took the offered hand and let him help her up from the bench. He didn't release her then as expected, but continued to hold her hand as he led her to the keep doors. Distracted as she was by that fact, it took her a moment to notice the two saddled horses waiting at the base of the steps. Once she did, however, her eyes widened with alarm.

  " 'Tis all right," Cam said at once. "Ye'll ride with me."

  "Then why is the mare my aunt and uncle gave us here too?" she asked worriedly.

  "He's tethered to the back of my saddle," Cam pointed out gently.

  "Aye, but why?"

  "I thought we'd go for a ride, break our fast, talk and then perhaps get in a quick riding lesson ere we come back," he explained.

  "That's what I was afraid of," she said unhappily and Cam chuckled at her expression.

  " 'Twill be all right," he assured her. "We'll go slow."

  Forcing a smile, Joan nodded and let him lift her up onto his horse. He then mounted quickly behind her and took up the reins.

  "Ease yerself," Cam said once they were out of the bailey and crossing the open area to the trees. "Ye're stiff as a log."

  "Sorry," Joan muttered and tried to make herself relax. It was difficult though. It wasn't just her anxiety about riding lessons that had her tense. She was also concerned about the coming talk he'd mentioned. She knew they had to talk, Annabel was right about that, she was just worried about what she might learn once they did.

  "Joan, I really did w
ant to be there when ye woke," Cam said suddenly. "I sat with ye from the minute I returned to the keep and learned ye were ill, but--"

  "I saw you kissing Finola," Joan blurted.

  Cam reined in, bringing both beasts to a halt, and then caught her by the waist and lifted and shifted her so that she sat sideways in front of him and he could see her face. Tipping her chin up with his fist, he peered solemnly into her face and said, "I did no' kiss Finola. She kissed me."

  He paused briefly, but when Joan didn't respond, he added, "She took me by surprise with her boldness, and I didn't immediately react, but then I pushed her away and let her ken I was well satisfied with me wife and no' interested in stolen kisses with a wench in a stolen dress."

  "I was rather insulting about it," Cam admitted quietly. "She tried to slap me, I caught her wrist and warned her if she did that, she could expect to be slapped back. Then, I told her she was no longer welcome at Sinclair and that I would arrange for men to return her to MacFarland today. After that I left her there on the landing and went below to fetch the candles I'd started out in search of in the first place."

  "At least, I thought I left her there," he added suddenly. "But she followed me below and locked the storeroom door behind me."

  "You saw her close the door?" Joan asked with surprise.

  "Nay, but it must have been her. Everyone else was sleeping," Cam reasoned and then frowned and added, "She must have tripped over her skirts or something on the way back upstairs. I gather they found her dead at the foot o' the steps this morning, her neck broken from the fall."

  "Aye, I heard that," Joan said thoughtfully, taking in everything he'd said.

  She believed him. That might have been just because she wanted to, but Joan did believe him and now considered the possibility that Finola had simply lost her footing and fallen down the stairs as he seemed to think. She wouldn't put it past the woman to have been the one behind locking him in the storeroom. It would have been fine retribution for his insulting and rejecting her, but that didn't explain the missing candle and holder.

  "Did Finola set her candle down during your exchange?" she asked now.

  "What?" Cam asked with confusion.

  "She had a candle with her when I saw her approach you last night. Yet they did not find one near her, nor at the top of the stairs when she was discovered this morning," Joan explained. "Did she set it down somewhere?"

  "Nay," he said slowly, obviously thinking back to last night's events.