“Well? I’m waiting. It’s an easy task. You’ve but to lie on yer back and open yer legs.”
He took a step toward her and she flinched away, as if she anticipated the back of his hand. Perhaps she wasn’t as stupid as he thought. She was, at the very least, trainable.
“I’ve done what I needed to do this night, Father. My laird sleeps now. He’s asked that my things be moved to his lady’s chamber, adjoining his, on the morrow.”
What was that he heard in her tone? A haughtiness? He was across the floor, towering over her in an instant, his fingers crushing into her chin as he drew her face to him.
“Dinna you think for a moment that wedding the laird raises yer station, lass. Yer nothing more than you were last night. You never will be anything but the vessel to carry the laird’s heir. My heir. And once we ken for a fact you carry that babe, we’ll rid ourselves of the old man and I’ll be in charge.”
The dream of power, so close to reality now, energized him, thrilled him. He loosed his hold on Agneys, allowing her to stumble away from him, back to her bed, where she grasped the bedpost as if to hold herself upright.
“But... but what if the child is a girl?”
He turned on her, feeling the pulse in his head pound with his irritation. “It makes no matter. She will be the laird’s daughter and under my control.”
“And what of the laird’s proclamation this night? That if the babe is a girl all goes to Isabella?”
Thathad certainly come as an unpleasant surprise. The old fool seemed determined to thwart his plans to the very end, even going so far as to clean up his half-witted granddaughter and try to pass her off as acceptable to his people.
But it wouldn’t make a difference.
“Isabella can’t very well inherit anything from beyond the grave, Daughter.”
Another of her annoying tremulous little gasps. “You couldn’t possibly mean to harm... not with yer own hands, Father.”
What a disappointment she was.
“I won’t need to. I’ve already dispatched a rider to find the MacDowylt and then I’ll go to him. We’ll lead him to Isabella, and in the struggle her guardian will no doubt put up, the laird’s precious granddaughter will be a casualty.”
“Neither her guardian nor MacDowylt will allow that to happen.”
Stupid cow. No ability to think ahead at all.
“Perhaps not. But a few of my own men, well placed, can see to it. If all goes as planned, they can see to the MacDowylt being a casualty as well.”
He wasted his time sharing his plans with her. She hadn’t the wit to appreciate his brilliance.
At the door he paused. “I await confirmation of what I announced as fact tonight.”
“Yes, Father. As soon as I can be sure, I’ll bring word.”
It would have to do.
Agneys stared at the door for several minutes after her father exited her room before going over to drop the bolt into place.
Madman.
She hurried to the hearth, picking up the pieces that remained of the little cup she’d used earlier this evening and tossing them into the flames.
In one of his classic temper rages, her father had destroyed for her the very item she’d hurried here to dispose of herself.
“Never leave evidence behind,”her grandmother had told her, and she had always followed that advice.
Though it was unlikely any could ever detect the traces of the dwale that little cup had held before she’d emptied it into old MacGahan’s whisky, it was one risk she was unwilling to take.
She slipped out of her gown and shift, letting them pool at her feet before slipping the heavy woolen nightdress down over her head.
The herbal potion her father’s mother had taught her to make had done its job well. The old laird had fallen into a deep sleep before he’d been able to do more than fondle her breast with his bony, wrinkled hands. Exactly as he had the first time.
