“I dinna ken the lad to be inside. I heard no screams. I told Master Roland. I heard no screams.” Shaw’s voice became more frantic as he pleaded his case.
“And if you had, would it have made a difference? My own brother tells me you were about to put my wife and her guardian to the sword when he arrived.”
The man looked around the room as if desperate to find a single ally. He would find none here.
“And the old woman here at the castle?”
“I had nothing to do with Auld Annie. That was Master Roland himself did that,” Shaw offered up. “Strangled her with his own two hands. I stood witness to that.”
“Hold yer tongue, you fool,” Lardiner yelled, once again being held down in his seat.
“You stood witness,” Malcolm repeated, disgust turning his stomach at the murder of a helpless old woman. “But you did nothing to stop it.”
“Yer as guilty as that one,” Patrick all but spat at the man.
Malcolm held up a hand to stop his brother. All in good time.
“And he’ll stand before the justiciar ayres for his crimes as well.”
“You’ve a nerve,” Lardiner yelled. “As if yer above murder yerself. Did you no threaten to bring yer army down on the whole of the MacGahan in order to take over these lands?”
“It’s because of yer deceit we came here, Lardiner.” Patrick delivered his accusation with deadly calm. “You came to us two years back, claiming to represent the word of yer laird. Offering money you never paid for livestock we supplied. In his name, yer the one offered us title to the lands if yer laird failed to make payment. Did you no think we’d track you down?”
“Enough.” Malcolm was done with the men. “My men will accompany you both to Edinburgh on the morrow. You’ll be turned over to the sheriff there to await yer trials. The justiciar ayres will deal with yer crimes. Get them out of here.”
“And what of me?” Agneys asked quietly from her seat. “You ken I had nothing to do with my father’s crimes. I even warned you of his plan against you. Would you have me be yer wife’s maid or will I be confined to my chambers for the rest of my life?”
Patrick made a noise of disgust low in his throat, but Malcolm forestalled any comment he might make with a touch to his brother’s arm.
“Sadly my good wife did not survive her trek to see her guardian home to his family.”
As he expected, Agneys’s expression brightened and she popped up from her chair, heading straight for him. “That’s perfect. We can go forward as we planned. None save the men in this room ken that I dinna carry the old laird’s bairn. We can marry and yer child can be the rightful laird.”
She had closed in on him, sliding her delicate hand seductively down his chest.
He grabbed her fingers, trapping them before they trailed below his waist, surprised she’d try this ploy with Patrick as witness.
“Can you no see my poor brother’s in mourning after the recent loss of his wife,” Patrick said. “As you should be for the loss of yer laird and husband.”
“Must he stay?” Agneys asked, her pleasant façade cracking just a little as she placed her other hand on Malcolm’s chest.
“Aye, my lady,” Malcolm answered, peeling both her hands from his body and backing away. “I think it’s for the best that he remain with us. And as to the plans you spoke of, they were yers alone and none of mine. I dinna require a bairn to name myself laird.”
“He is laird by rights of his own,” Patrick added.
“As you say.” Agneys turned her back, crossing to her chair and retaking her seat. “If you won’t take me to wife, what will you do with me?”
He’d thought long and hard on this. Though Agneys was a beauty indeed, he’d tossed his lot to chance when he wed Isabella to ensure a clear succession. She, to his good fortune, had been an honest woman, true to her word. But he wouldn’t risk his future to any female again. He didn’t need to.
“You’ve a choice, my lady. I’m told yer father has family in England and yer mother’s people are in France. I’ll see to it yer delivered to whichever one you wish.”
“France,” she answered without any hesitation, and with a deep sigh she rose to her feet. “The young widow of an old Scottish laird, living in France? I could do much worse.”
“Indeed, my lady.”
It was Malcolm’s guess that a woman like Agneys would do very well indeed.
Epilogue
