“We don’t know that. It’s only speculation that the queen is with child.”
“Nonetheless,” said Daniel. “Theirs is a story that deserves a happy twist.”
He sighed heavily. “In truth, I have a more personal reason for my desire to see the necklace reclaimed. To me, it represents justice for John. He died at the hands of a ruthless thief who is yet unpunished for the crime.” He placed a hand on Isabail’s sleeve. “It tears my heart apart to know his murderer yet goes free. I have a contact in the king’s court. If I bring the necklace to him, he may be able to convince the king to expend more effort to catch the wretched cur.”
Muirne ducked under the lintel carrying a small earthenware pot. “I found the yarrow,” she crowed with delight.
Isabail took the pot, filled the cup of her hand with dried yarrow, and added water to create a paste. Then she removed the cloth from Daniel’s wound and packed the paste into the rendered flesh. Once she was satisfied with the packing, she wrapped the wound with fresh strips of linen and tied a firm knot.
“Allow the yarrow to do its work,” she cautioned Daniel. “Rest. Do not use that arm excessively.”
“Thank you, Lady Isabail.”
She tossed him a smile, then gathered up the remaining bandages. It was odd to hear him address her so formally. John and Daniel had been very close for several years, and before John’s death, the three of them had spent significant time together. Casual, friendly, and honest time. Many of Isabail’s favorite memories of John included Daniel.
“You know, of course, that MacCurran will place a guard at my door,” Daniel said.
Isabail frowned. She hadn’t thought about that, but it made sense. A stranger in his camp would be cause for worry. “‘Tis a logical assumption,” she agreed.
“To have a hope of recovering the queen’s necklace, I will need your help.”
“MacCurran swears he never stole the necklace.”
“That’s preposterous. John’s men found it hidden in his chamber the night de Coleville was murdered. And the necklace disappeared from Lochurkie a fortnight later, when MacCurran was freed from the dungeons by his brother.”
Isabail nodded. Daniel was right. She’d been a fool to even consider MacCurran’s wild story of a man in black. Who else had reason to take the necklace?
“It’s here, hidden among MacCurran’s possessions,” Daniel said. “I’m willing to stake my life upon it.”
“How can I help?”
“Explore the camp as best you can. Locate whatever potential caches you can. Then you and I can discuss how we might search those caches.” He lightly squeezed her hand. “Whatever you do, do not put yourself at risk, not under any circumstance. Do not attempt to recover the necklace without me. I would never be able to live with myself if you came to harm.”
Isabail clasped her hand over his. “If I discover anything worthy, I’ll bring it to your attention. I promise.”
“Lady Isabail.”
At the crisp address from MacCurran, Isabail jerked. Releasing Daniel’s hand, she hastily sought her feet and faced the fierce warrior. Was it her imagination, or did he seem especially forbidding at this moment? “Aye?”
His cold gaze examined her from head to boots in slow, impolite detail. What he was looking for, Isabail could only guess, but the intensity of his stare brought a hot flush to her cheeks.
“We located the hound,” he said finally.
Tears sprang to her eyes. Poor, brave Gorm. “May I look upon him one last time before you commit his body to the fire?”
“It lives.”
Isabail’s hands flew to her chest. “Truly?”
He nodded. “You may see it once its wounds are properly dressed.”
Relief and amazement drove her forward before she had time to think. MacCurran had rescued Gorm, just as he had once rescued Isabail and Muirne. Right from the jaws of death. She skipped across the room, rose to the tips of her toes, and planted a grateful kiss upon his rocklike chin. “Thank you.”
A steely arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her tight against his chest. “You may thank me properly later.”
Then he was gone, leaving Isabail to deal with the wide-eyed reactions of Muirne and Daniel... and the madcap flutter of her heart.
* * *
