He raised his cup in salute to the portrait above the blazing hearth and then crossed the floor to join the group of richly dressed nobles who were hailing him.
* * * *
“I wouldna do that, were I you,” Frang warned Glenna as her palm skimmed downward over the wood. “The idea that you didna stand up for me to your lover has put me in a mite of a foul humor.”
“I could scream,” Glenna said, pressing her back against the door now, praying silently for someone—anyone—to interrupt them.
“Not long enough to be heard over that din,” he said with a jerk of his head toward the shuttered window, where the noise of the feast rose on the thin night air. “I’d reach you first.”
Glenna swallowed.
“But I didna come here to harm you, even after your poor treatment of me,” Frang said pointedly. “I only want you to hear the whole of what I’ve to say; what I’ve tried to tell you for a fortnight. I’ve come once again to offer my help to you, Lady Glenna. Though you’ve shown me naught but contempt each time before.”
“Tavish Cameron has banished you from Roscraig,” Glenna said, pausing to press her lips together and take slow breaths through her nose, although Frang Roy’s odor was nearly overwhelming. It smelled as though he had spent the days since his exile out of doors. “If he finds you here, he’ll kill you.”
Frang gave her his crooked, grotesque grin. “Nae if I kill him first.” He began walking toward her. “You see, Lady Glenna, I’ve come to tell you some things about yer da. Yer mam, as well. Things the old man hoped none would ever know.”
Glenna lifted her chin. “What things?”
His grin grew sly, sliding across his flat, wide lips and stretching them smooth. “He’s nae paid Roscraig’s debts.”
“That’s no secret,” Glenna scoffed, although her knees were watery with the man’s continued approach. “There’s not been enough crops, and…and we’ve no help. Then the sickness…”
Frang Roy shook his head. “He’s never paid the debts. Because he’s nae laird.”
“What? That’s ridiculous, Frang. Don’t come any closer,” Glenna warned. “You assume too much.”
“Once the king arrives, it’ll be too late,” Frang continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Tavish Cameron is entitled to the Tower—aye, I believe ’tis true. And he will soon have the king’s blessing to toss you out on your skinny arse. If yer da yet lives, he’ll be thrown into prison.” He stood right before her now and leaned down slightly to speak into her face. “As a traitor to the crown.”
“That’s…that’s simply not true,” Glenna whispered, though she trembled through the soles of her slippers. “My father grew up at Roscraig, just as I have done. He is a loyal servant to James. He—”
Frang Roy shook his head and placed his wide, crusty finger over her lips, cutting off her argument. The smell of the digit caused Glenna’s stomach to rise into her throat.
“You think spreading your legs for Cameron will save you, make ’im marry you. But he willna.”
Against her will, Captain Muir’s words bloomed in Glenna’s memory:He had it commissioned some time ago…he hopes you will wear it as your wedding costume.
“You’re poorer than a vicarage mouse, and your da’s a fraud.”
Glenna shook her head free of his touch. “He’s not.”
“And a murderer,” Frang whispered.
“Nay,” Glenna rasped. “You lie.”
His face was so close to hers now that Glenna could see the fissures of broken capillaries across his nose, in the yellow of his eyes.
“He killed your mother.”
She raised her hands into fists then, flailing at his hateful face, but Frang Roy quickly overpowered her, grasping her wrists in one huge hand and then pinning her to the door.
“If you will only think upon what I tell ye, you’ll understand ’tis true,” he said mildly, as if he had no concern for her abhorrence of him. “Once the king arrives with his court, your time at Roscraig is over. None will help you. You might be sold to the highest bidder, eh? I know of one who intends to visit Roscraig who will give a handsome coin for you. You wouldna care for his attentions.”
“Dubhán will speak for me,” Glenna rasped. “And for Da.”
Frang Roy kept his simple smile. “The only thing Dubhán’s word would do for you is bring your fall harder and faster. Nay, nay—we must be rid of Tavish Cameron and prevent the king from coming. Rid ourselves of Dubhán, as well, for good measure; warrant both our hides.”
Glenna said nothing, and so Frang continued. “Your lover has a cache on the cliff—I saw him take it there with my own eyes.” He raised his hand to stroke her cheek. “Tonight, I fetch it.For us,” he emphasized. His breaths were coming heavy now, and he leaned closer toward her face…
