Chapter Twenty-Four
Elspeth dashed through the wood beside the road. "Gracie," she hissed, trying to keep pace with her. "'Tis me."
Still running, the lass glanced to the side, her tear-filled gaze connecting with Elspeth's. "Oh, m'lady." She veered off the road and into the wood. "Thank the saints. I thought they would kill me."
Elspeth grabbed her arm and circled back, deeper into the wood, but where she could see if Cyrus was all right. She knelt and peered between the branches.
Those damnable clansmen had captured Cyrus and were beating him. "Nay." She pressed a fist to her mouth. She had to help him.
"Halt!" Henry yelled at the Comyn clansmen pummeling Cyrus. "I need to question him. Where is she, MacKenzie?" Henry glanced around. "She must be here someplace. Either you tell me, or I'll have the men search! And they will not be gentle."
Elspeth turned to the lass. "Gracie, go into town and tell the tavern owner's wife I sent you to stay with her for a short time. I know Mistress Brown. She's a kind woman. And stay hidden."
Gracie's blue eyes were wide and tear drenched. "But … what are you going to do, m'lady?"
"Have no worries over me. You must go now to protect your babe. I'll send someone for you when 'tis safe."
The girl nodded, wild panic in her eyes.
"Go."
The lass trotted away and soon disappeared from sight.
Elspeth rushed toward Cyrus. She would not allow him to be harmed further because of her. She stepped into the road. "Release him!"
"That was easy." Henry glowered. "Proceed into the hall, wench. You three, lead him in as well."
"Why the devil did you come out?" Cyrus scowled at her, blood trickling from his lip.
She sent him an apologetic glance. Seeing him injured and bleeding ripped at her soul. "Release him, Dalacroy, and I will sign the deeds."
"We've been through this once, you harlot." Henry pointed at the steps. "Go inside or I'll have someone carry you."
For a certainty, she did not want that. Entering the dining hall, where several Comyn clansmen stood about everywhere, she noticed the room smelled strongly of whisky. No doubt they had guzzled every last drop of her whisky, wine, and ale.
Henry turned to Cyrus and smirked. "You remember your old friend, Chief Ben Comyn, do you not? I understand you were foster brothers. 'Haps you would like to get reacquainted."
Cyrus and Comyn glowered at each other while Henry chuckled. He motioned to the magistrate who stood near Comyn. "MacTarril was only too glad to join us, as well, to keep the peace." Henry turned to Elspeth. "Tell me where the real deed is for Greymont Castle."
Blast! He must have found the hiding place where she'd had most of the genuine deeds stored. She thought she'd concealed them better. But the one he sought was actually at Greymont. "'Tis with the others."
Henry cocked his head. "Do you not know 'tis a sin to lie?"
"'Tis also a sin to steal, kill, and take others hostage," she snapped.
He cackled. "Look who has suddenly become the authority on morality." He motioned toward the chair at her table. "Have a seat, my lady jezebel. We'll take care of this part first. I found the deed for Darby. You are now selling me this property for two pence. Here you are, madam." He tossed the coins at her. They bounced across the wooden table, then came to rest near her feet on the floor. Nausea flooded her.
Avoiding a puddle on the table's surface where someone had obviously spilled a beverage, he smoothed out the deeds and weighted down the top edge with an empty candle holder.
She sat and glanced up at Cyrus, his clothes dirty and splattered with blood. His scowl proclaimed he was angry enough to kill every man present. And she knew he would if he could free himself from their ropes.
"Give her the quill." Henry glanced to the thin man dressed in a finely woven black Lowland suit. Was he the solicitor?
The man placed the quill and inkwell by her hand.
"Talbot has determined that these are the true deeds which we found in your cellar this morn. You are to sign there." Henry pointed, then slid the lit candle closer.
Ignoring the quill, she laced her fingers together. "I will only sign them if you release Cyrus MacKenzie and allow him to ride out on his horse. And send no one to follow him."
