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By leeching of the blood, there is no determination of disturbances in the blood. The body is bloated with decomposition but the cause of death is strangulation and a broken neck. The injury in his stomach is insubstantial to his death. This empirical proof from the deep examination of the body has rendered the testimony of Sir, Rushford Cuthbert to be truthful and honest.
There it was, more proof—sealed proof—that Caelan had killed her brother. It was bitter to swallow but it was there, plain before her eyes. She was about to put it back when another thought—a devious one—came to her.
What if this is real?
Dropping the paper, she knelt down and felt under the table. Many years ago, her father had told her of a secret compartment in his desk and now she was searching for the latch. She hated that she was doubting her father but she had no choice but to seek out all that could be found.
“Come on…come on…” she muttered while her fingers skimmed over the wood looking for the latch.
Her finger clicked on something and she smiled. Depressing the latch, she watched as the hidden drawer slid out. Laying on top it was another sheet of parchment, just like the one she had just read. This one, however, was longer.
Taking it up, she skipped over the first part that was a mirror of the report she had just read and went to the following parts.
Following the testimony of a one Sir Rushford Cuthbert who swore an oath saying the late Lord died of suffocation on the hands of a Scotsman, this corner had examined the body to inspect such signs of suffocation. Upon full examination of the body of Peter Watson and the leeching of blood, it is determined that the Lord sustained injured to the lower quarter of his abdomen, by a deep and grievous stab wound. The same Lord then sustained injuries to his head, the indent a quarter of an inch deep from a rounded object, suspected to be the handle of a sword and another other two inches deep in his left calf, a splintering of the bone.
By leeching of the blood, which drained black, we had determined that other than the cause of death of vital humors, the blood had been poisoned. Severe bloating of the abdomen and the rupture of the heart have given more cause to suspect death by poison. There is no sign of suffocation and breaking of the throat by an excessive force which had rendered the testimony of Sir, Rushford Cuthbert to be fabricated and a gracious act of perjury.
Her eyes dropped to the bottom and there she saw a seal. Just like the other one. What in God’s name? Her eyes switched from one to the other, trying to decipher which was right and which wasn’t. This one in her hand felt real. The handwriting in the other one was similar to this but she could see minute differences in the shape of the ‘b’ and the curve of the ‘g’. The one on the desk was a copy…this one was real.
“The blood had been poisoned…Caelan was right.”
Placing both papers back into the drawers and closing them, she felt sick to her stomach. Her mind felt splinted into pieces and her heart was in pain. She had been lied to and believing the lie to be a certainty, had accused the one man who had been telling the real truth to be a liar.
Shame descended on her like a blanket. What could she do to make up for her reprehensible actions? Nothing—nothing—could free her from her guilt except doing what she had vowed to do in the first place, set Caelan free.
Chapter 24
Caelan was pacing the floor of the dungeon when he heard the scrape of the door above and then came the echo of hurried steps down the staircase. He stopped moving. Who could be coming to him so late? It was dim but he saw a figure he would never forget rush in. Adelaine was in a rush. Why?
She was not alone. Her maid Martha with her too. They worked to get the door open and then Martha went back upstairs. But he barely saw her as she left because Adelaine had jumped into his arms. Her lips met his and the beast inside him woke. When her tongue ran over his lips in a sensuous arc, his lust burned his chest, and lust nearly decimated his control.
His hands closed on her waist, and he yanked her against him, grabbing her bottom, hoisting her up and pressing her against the wall. His fingers dug in the silk of her tresses as her leg wrapped around him. His lust thundered in his ears as he drove his tongue deeply, penetrating her wet mouth. He felt her groan as their tongues twisted in a wet, sinuous, sexual tangle. He held on the threads of his concern as he ravaged the softness of her mouth, devouring all of her.
His hands ran over her bare leg and slid up to her quim; she was wet. Stroking over her wet softness he dipped his mouth to her ear. “Where is this coming from, lass?”
“I—” her breath came in short gasps, “I was wrong, I was so wrong. Everything he told me, everything I believed was wrong. It was all a lie. I should have listened to my intuition. You’re innocent Caelan, you’re innocent and you must go, you must run, Caelan.”
Pulling his hand from her softness, he used the back of his hand to tilt her face up and saw tears at her eyes. “Oh, lass.” He dipped his lips to kiss her tears away. “Oh, me lovely lass.”
He kissed her again. “What’s wrong?”
She braced her hands on his shoulder and said, “The day before yesterday, when I had come to you, I got a letter from a man named Artur, he asked me to help you escape. I burned it so no one could find it and I had sworn—I had sworn Caelan, that I would not help you because of what you rightly said. My father did show me something, a written testimony of you choking my brother.”
She took in a deep desperate breath. “At the Christmas celebration I overheard my father saying something
about getting an autopsy done on him in Scotland.” She swallowed and looked at him with sorrowful eyes. “I found it and read it Caelan and it told me that you were right. My brother did die from poison and a stab wound in his belly. I’m sorry…I’m so sorry that I doubted you. Forgive me, please.”
The poor thing sounded so broken; Caelan felt his heart swell. He cupped her face and kissed her cheek. “Lass, ne’er doubt it, yer forgiven. How could I nae? I love ye.”
Her reply was a soft, unsteady kiss. “I’m going to let you run, Caelan. I found the plans for the tunnel. It starts below the guardroom and in the basement, it runs to the west wall of our property. From there it goes into a ravine that enters the forest. It bypasses the town so you won’t be seen. I have sent a reply to your men describing where to meet you when you escape.”
The repletion of the word ‘you’ had him frowning. “Yer nae coming with me?”
“I can’t,” she said regretfully. “I have to make it look like I’m not a part of it. That’s why you’ll run in two days when I will be at a New Year’s celebration on January first. My Father and I will be there too, so there will be fewer guards around.”
“This celebration…” Caelan said, “where is it?”
“At the home of the man who…” she trailed off, “…who might become my fiancé.”
