Page 16 of Leila’s Legacy

“Nay,” Leila said ferociously. “These charges are—”

“Do ye deny then that ye’re a witch?” Lord Armstrong pressed.

Lady Leila gave a little growl of frustration. “Aye, of course I deny the accusation when it isn’t true.”

Lord Armstrong nodded slowly. “As I expected.” He folded his arms over his chest. “We’ve called upon Father Gerard from the north. He’ll be the one to decide what ye are and what ye’re no’. He’s devoted his life to the study of sinners engaging in witchcraft and devil worship.”

“Then he’ll find me innocent,” Leila said sharply.

“Take her to the dungeon.” The Keeper of Liddesdale summoned a nearby servant. “Give the lass a kirtle to wear. I’ll no’ have her presented to the village looking anything less than the lady I promised them, aye?”

The servant rushed off to comply with the earl’s bidding even as several clansmen came forward to take her to the dungeon. She did not protest or fight them off. Instead, she went of her own volition, without needing to be held as she was led from the room.

“God’s bones, lad, get yerself to the barber and stop bleeding all over the rushes.” Lord Armstrong rolled his eyes heavenward. “We’ve just had them replaced nigh on six months ago.”

Alban didn’t wait to be told again and hastened from the room to see to his needs.

Lord Armstrong waved Niall over. “It’s easy to see why they call ye the Lion. Ye’re determined, lad. ’Tis the reason I tasked ye with finding the witch. And ye did.” He nodded in approval.

Niall inclined his head in gratitude. “My men were flawless in their execution of the plan today as well, my lord.”

“Aye, yer men are always good too. Loyal, like ye.” Lord Armstrong drank from his mug. “All that loyalty will be necessary until the mess of this is handled.”

A pretty blonde servant entered with a length of blue cloth draped in her arms. She paused before Lord Armstrong and held it out for his inspection. He snatched it up and grunted. “’Tis fine enough, I suppose.”

The woman curtseyed and departed.

The Keeper of Liddesdale tossed the bundle to Niall. “Ye need to get the witch into this kirtle, aye? I’ll no’ send the Earl of Werrick’s daughter down the streets looking like a strumpet. Nay, she needs to look like the lady she is, so they all know I willna shy even from punishing nobility if they are in the wrong.”

The dress was made of quality wool, much softer than the tunic Niall wore under his gambeson. He hung it from his arm discreetly to ensure it did not wrinkle before Lady Leila could be asked to wear it. If she was to appear as the nobility she was, it would not do for the fabric to be crinkled.

“Ye mean to send her down the streets?” Niall lifted his brows, uncertain what the lord meant by such words.

“Aye, let the people see the witch for who she is.” Lord Armstrong shrugged. “She’ll be held at the prison at the village center. I want everyone to have a go at her as she passes them, to throw about their rotten food and the like. Give the people what they want, and the people will be good to ye.” He winked as though imparting a good bit of advice.

“Nay.”

The skin around Lord Armstrong’s eyes tightened. “Eh, lad? What’d ye say?”

“Nay, my lord.” Niall maintained his soldier’s stance with his legs spread wide and obdurate. “I’ll no’ take a lady down to the village for them to demean her when she’s no’ been condemned as yet. She’s no’ even had her trial.”

“She’ll have her trial,” the lord assured him. “But the people will get their revenge as well, aye?”

“Nay,” Niall repeated. “Ye like me working with ye for my honor and I tell ye now: what ye ask me to do is unjust.”

“I’ll do it, Father.” Alban entered the room with his arm bound in a sling and his shoulder bandaged with a swath a linen. “I’ll drag that whore in front of the crowd and let them do anything they want to her.”

Lord Armstrong smiled at his son. “Verra well.” He lifted a brow at Niall. “Shall I have Alban help the lady dress as well?”

Niall bit back a growl. He knew how Alban would get the lass from her clothes before ensuring the dress was on her. Witch or no, there wasn’t a woman alive who ought to endure such abuse.

“I’ll see to it, my lord.” Niall bent to retrieve her discarded cloak. A lady would certainly not be in such weather without the heavy garment.

With that, the Earl of Armstrong dismissed them both. Niall made his way to the dungeon with the damn kirtle tucked carefully over his arm, dreading ordering her to change into the garment. With the exception of Alban, Niall had never encountered issues with being obeyed. The clansmen had always respected him and listened without question.

But lasses…he knew little about lasses, especially ones with a feisty spirit like Lady Leila. And while he hoped she would be easy and compliant, he suspected she’d be anything but.