Stolen Vows (34 page)

“Nae, sir, they’re still here,” the Captain nodded.

“Keep them here, Ross,” Roan growled. 

The other man nodded darkly.  “Ye think they plotted it as a group, that they were all involved?”

“Something like that,” Roan muttered.

..ooOOoo..

Roan took Isla with him to Graem’s bedside, primarily because he was afraid of what might happen to her if she was left alone. As perceived by the rest of the castle, she was the sister to their Laird’s would-be assassin.  He had a horrible sense that Isla wouldn’t be safe if he wasn’t there to protect her.  He feared that she would be blamed.

He knew his wife was bright enough to realize that was the motive for his actions, and was part of the reason why she was loath to stand more than a few feet away from him.  She hadn’t said anything to him, but Roan could see the questions about her brother burning in her eyes every time she looked up at him.

“How is he?” Roan demanded of the guard that was stationed outside the Laird’s formal chambers.  The man shook his head gravely, and then frowned harshly in Isla’s direction when he noticed the woman accompanying the tanist.

“Sir -” he began, but Roan had already barreled past him, dragging Isla along behind him.

“I dinna ken I should be here,” Isla whispered quietly.  “Perhaps I could go and see Ian?” she asked hopefully.

“Ye’ll stay here, where it’s safe,” Roan barked, more harshly than he’d intended.  To his surprise, Isla fell into a dutiful silence, hanging her head and following him without saying another word.

“Get that witch out of here!” a voice shrieked.  Roan tensed, his jaw set as his mother stormed out of Graem’s bedchamber towards him and his wife.  “I mean it, Roan!”

“Lower yer voice,” Roan snarled, in such a tone that his mother actually hesitated.

“I mean it Roan -”

“So do I,” he said coldly.  “Isla will stay here where it’s safe.  Ye
will
see that she is kept safe,” Roan commanded unflinchingly. 

“Ye ken what people are saying?” she spat.  “That ye are somehow involved?  That Graem was going to name someone else as tanist because of yer wife, so ye had yer brother-in-law dispose of him before he had a chance to do so!”

“People say a lot of things,” Roan said dismissively, but his mother refused to give up her tirade.

“I tried to get rid of the lass myself. I dinna ken how she ever found the road again, but if Providence had -!”

“Ye tried to get rid of her?” Roan stared at his mother as if she were a stranger to him. He remembered how he had found Isla on the road to Castle Cameron, shivering and exhausted after wandering for miles in the woods.  He had wondered why she had dared to step off of the main road, but he’d never guessed that she had been deliberately sent off track.  She could have died from the fever that followed. Apparently, that would have suited his mother perfectly. “Get her out of here,” he said coldly, not trusting himself to say another word to the woman who had given him birth.

“S-sir?” one of the guards stammered, while Lady MacRae gaped at her son.  She looked as though he had physically struck her down.

“Just get her out of my sight,” he barked, causing his mother to flinch.  She had paled to a nasty gray.

“Roan, I dinna mean -” she squeaked, but her son wasn’t listening, he’d caught hold of Isla and was tugging her behind him as he walked into the Laird’s bedchambers.

The room was large, and dimly lit, the curtains had been drawn and a few sputtering candles gave the only light.  Isla peeked out from behind Roan nervously, and glanced about the room.  Her eyes were instantly drawn towards the large double bed that dominated the chamber, and the figure lying in its center.

Isla felt a tug at her heart that she hadn’t been expecting at the sight of the old Laird lying stricken in his bed.  Graem had always been undeniable good to her.  It was dreadful to see him in such a state.  But it was no less dreadful to see the affect the sight had on her husband.

Roan looked truly stricken.  He walked jerkily to the side of the bed, leaving Isla hovering in the doorway, where Bridghe came to stand next to her, catching hold of her hand in a sisterly manner, while Roan dropped to his knees beside the old man.

“Sir?” he choked.

Graem seemed to open his eyes and turn his head towards the voice.  “Ah, Roan, my boy,” he murmured, his voice was nothing more than a soft sigh.  “I have been waiting for ye to come.”

“Waiting, sir?” Roan echoed hesitantly, as if he really didn’t like what those words implied.

“Aye lad, to say my goodbyes.”

“With all due respect, ye are nae going anywhere yet, sir,” Roan argued fiercely. 

He seemed to think he could keep Graem in the mortal realm by the strength of his will alone.  Isla chewed her lip as she watched him.  She wanted to move forward, to lay a hand on his shoulder, but something kept her rooted in place.  Her time for comforting him would come later, at the moment he was the one being strong for Graem - or was he?  The old Laird, so still and lifeless he seemed to be standing at death’s door, was murmured something that Isla couldn’t hear, but which, incredibly, made Roan smile sadly.

“Aye, sir,” he nodded, getting back up to his feet.  “I’ll see to it straight away.”  He bowed his head, and then walked towards the two women.  He glanced at Isla.  “Yer to stay here and attend him with Bridghe,” he revealed.

“I am?”  Isla gasped.  “But - where are ye going?” she asked, but she could tell just by the look on his face.  “To see Ian?” she pressed breathlessly.  “Oh, take me with ye, I -”

“Nae, Isla,” Roan growled, in a low dangerous voice that made his wife pause, but not quite abandon her plea.

“But he’s my brother,” she whimpered quietly. 

“And that is why ye must stay here,” Roan sighed, he brushed a kiss against the top of her head, and then he was gone.

..ooOOoo..

“Where is he?” Roan asked, careful to keep his voice hard and unmerciful.  The guard who was standing watch over the dungeons nodded his head in the direction of one of the cells.  Roan followed the direction of the other man’s gaze and nodded.  “Has he said anything?”

“Confessed ye mean?  Nae,” the guard sneered.  “Seems to think he’s innocent.  Claimed nae even to ken what had gone on here this morning.”

“Is that so?” Roan murmured heavily.  “Let me in to see him,” he frowned.  The guard gave a nasty smile and opened the cell door.  Roan stepped into the small dark space and waited for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light.

“Oh - tis only ye,” coughed a voice from the opposite wall.  There was a pause, and then the raspy voice spoke again.  “Ye ken, strangely, this situation reminds me of something…” Ian snorted sarcastically.

“Still got yer tongue I see?”

“Aye.  Missing a few teeth though,” the Cameron Captain parried back humorlessly.  He did look battered. He had two black eyes, a split lip and a nasty cut running across his cheek.

“Ye ken why yer here?” Roan frowned.

“I ken why they
say
I’m here,” Ian spat.  “Something about poisoning half the castle, women and children along with the men?  As if I’d do something so dishonorable and cowardly!  If I’d meant to murder yer Laird then I -”

“It might be prudent,” Roan interrupted harshly, “to think before ye speak.”

Ian snorted, but he fell silent, shifting uncomfortably in the chains that bound him to the wall.  His silence didn’t last long.

“It was Tavish, was it nae?” he muttered murderously.  “Always sniffing around, up to nae good, told me to watch my back after I let ye have Isla,” Ian continued, mumbling more to himself than the tanist.  Roan raised an eyebrow, just a fraction, not enough for Ian to see in the darkness.

“Ye seem to be under the impression that I believe ye to be innocent, Cameron,” he said coldly, wondering if the guard was listening on the other side of the door.

Ian chuckled darkly.  “Oh aye?  So tis like that is it?” he snorted.  He looked gravely thoughtful for a moment.  “If ye execute me, will that save ye from going to war and killing other Camerons?”

Roan opened his mouth.  He wanted to give Ian some kind of assurance.  They’d had their differences to be sure, but Isla’s brother wasn’t a
bad
man.  However, he was all too aware that the walls had ears, and if he appeared in any way compassionate towards the prisoner then the clan really would believe the evil theory his mother had spouted.

Ian didn’t wait for his question to be answered anyway.  “Ye - ye will nae let her come down here, will ye, MacRae?” he asked hoarsely.  “Ye’ll keep her safe?  I ken what people will think.”

“Aye, I’ll keep her safe -”

“And ye’ll keep her away?”

“That too,” Roan nodded.

He withdrew from the cell, nodding at the guard to lock the door again, while his mind whirred.  Graem had told him to go speak to Ian, convinced, even as he lay on the point of death, that he couldn’t have misjudged the Camerons so utterly, and that Roan would be able to draw the truth from the prisoner.

Roan agreed with his Laird, up to a point - he hadn’t misjudged the Camerons, just Tavish MacEantach.  But how he was meant to prove that, Roan didn’t yet know.

“Sir?”

Roan glanced up; Captain Ross was striding down the corridor towards him.  “What is it?” Roan frowned.

“Our two other
guests
are making quite a song and dance about wanting to leave, sir,” he sneered.  Roan gave an unsurprised nod.

“Aye, I thought they might.  Ye’ve made it clear that they’ll be residing with us for some time yet?”

The Captain smirked and nodded.  “Their tanist seemed to accept it in due course, but the other man -” Ross frowned, as if he couldn’t quite puzzle something out.  “Well, if I dinna think they’d all been in it together, his reaction when he was told he was nae leaving would have convinced me.”

“Hmm,” Roan murmured thoughtfully.  He didn’t think it would be too hard convincing people of Tavish’s guilt, but how was he going to persuade everyone that Ian and Donaid were innocent?  “I think I need to talk -”

“Master?” a little voice squeaked.

Roan frowned.  “Liane?”

“Aye, sir, tis me.”  His wife’s maid stepped out of the shadows in which she’d been standing and presented herself nervously to the two men.  Ross shot Roan a questioning glance, surprised that the tanist was prepared to listen to the servant.

“What’s wrong, Liane?” he asked.

“I - I wanted to ken if tis true, what they’re all saying about Master Ian Cameron?”

“Tis true,” Ross barked.  “Now get out of the way, we dinna -”

“Why do ye ask, Liane?” Roan interrupted the captain, speaking gently to the trembling woman.

“Well, because, everyone is saying that Master Ian must have crept down to the kitchens sometime during the night - after the maids left and before they went back to work this morning?”

“Aye, that’s right,” Roan nodded.

“Well then -” Liane twisted her hands in her apron frantically.  “Ye see, sirs, Ian could nae have sneaked down to the kitchens then,” she mumbled. 

Roan and Ross exchanged a suspicious glance.  “Why do ye say that, Liane?” Roan coaxed.

The maid raised her teary face to him.  “Because he was with me,” she confessed, dropping her gaze to the ground.  “I - I saw him in Lady MacRae’s room the other day, and he recognized me last night.  I’d turned my ankle on the stairs and he carried me up to my room, and then -” Liane’s cheeks were crimson.