Harriet’s head whipped back around to pin him with a scolding frown. “Lady Glenna wouldna do such a thing.”
“You don’t know that,” Tavish said, using her own phrase against her. “And you would do well to stop referring to her as ‘lady’; I’ve already commanded that none of the servants refer to Glenna Douglas as such, lest they be immediately dismissed. You’re only encouraging confusion.”
“I’ll refer toLady Glennahowever I choose, and I’ll thank you to remember who ’tis you’re speaking to, son.”
Tavish sighed again. “You are too kindhearted for your own good, Mam. Glenna is not some ill, orphan child in Edinburgh’s poorhouse.”
Harriet pursed her lips. “She may as well be.”
“She is a stranger to you, and a desperate one at that. She has been spared by the rain this past interminable fortnight—more time than she was owed. She should have by now resigned herself to reality.”
Tavish would have rather perished on the spot than admit that he’d spent many of those interminable nights lying in his own bed, his mind filled with images of the haughty, hostile woman.
Mam looked into his eyes, and Tavish plainly saw the depth of emotion she was holding back. “I think Laird Douglas was poisoned.”
Tavish drew his head back in surprise and then huffed a laugh. “Poisoned? When nearly the entire village just died from illness? Did Glenna fill your head with such an idea?”
“Nay—I’ve nae shared my suspicions with her. But that’s just it—Laird Douglas fell ill after most of the folk had died. Once the sickness was realized, he never left the hold.”
The gouges in the door…
“You know just as well as I that the miasma can lay sleeping in a man for days before he succumbs.”
“But Lady Glenna affirms he had no cough, no boils a’tall. And his fingers and toes…” She glanced around and then leaned forward in her chair, whispering to him. “Black.”
“If he never left the hold, the only one who could have poisoned him was his own daughter,” Tav reminded her.
Mam shook her head. “Nay. That…thatman, Frang Roy.Hewas the last one to see the laird before the door was barred from the villagers. He brought the eggs. They were part of the last meal Laird Douglas ate.”
Tavish glanced at the table, now cleared of dishes. “We didn’t eat the eggs he brought, did we?”
Mam shook her head. “I threw them out straight away.”
“Good.” Tavish paused. It was possible that Frang Roy could have had opportunity to poison Iain Douglas. But tainting the laird’s food didn’t make sense to Tavish. “What reason would he have for injuring the laird, Mam? Frang Roy’s only a farmer—and a poor one, at that. It’s not as if he could aspire to rule Roscraig.”
Mam placed her hand atop Tavish’s. “He wants Lady Glenna,” she said pointedly. “Once her da was dead, there would be no one here to stop him.”
“No one save me, Mistress Cameron.”
The smooth, accented voice drew Mam’s and Tavish’s attention to the doorway, where Roscraig’s newly installed man at arms entered with a hooded figure at his side.
“Beg pardon, laird,” Alec said. “Dubhán said he was expected.”
Tavish pushed to his feet. “My thanks, Alec.” He looked to the dark-skinned man standing in the long robe. “Good evening, Dubhán. I should have come to the hermitage sooner.”
“The rain, laird,” the man said, opening his palms and giving Tavish a slow, bright smile as he looked pointedly around the hall. “You have had much more important work to do in bringing the Tower back to life than greeting a lowly servant such as myself.” He turned toward Mam and gave a nod. “Mistress Cameron. I am blessed again by your presence.”
Tavish felt his brows raise. “The two of you have met?”
Mam nodded. “I took a march up the cliff earlier today—my legs needed it after being cooped up in the keep for so long. I forgot to mention I invited Dubhán, Tav.”
“I do hope my arrival is not inconvenient. It isn’t often that I come into the village—Laird Douglas is not devout, and I am in truth no vicar.”
“Not at all. Please.” Tavish returned to his seat and gestured to the chair on the side of the table, between himself and Mam.
“This is a special treat for me, to partake of such hospitality.” The monk bowed his thanks before sitting and accepting the cup set in front of him. “Since the village all but dissolved away, I keep to the cliff and tend the dead—what I was sent to Roscraig to do.”
Tavish regarded the calm, exotic-looking man with pleasant curiosity. “How long have you been at Roscraig, Dubhán?”
