The Renegade's Heart (26 page)

It was unjust. Murdoch was condemned by them
all, though he had done little wrong. Isabella yearned to defend
him when he was unable to do so, but knew it would only draw undue
attention to her.

It was certainly the kind of risk Murdoch
himself had advised her to avoid.

Instead, she savored the knowledge that
Murdoch had tried to keep his vow to her, that he had tried to
intervene to avoid injuries, that he cared sufficiently for her
welfare to send her to safety. She worried about the progress of
those marks upon his flesh and the darkness that claimed his gaze.
She feared the Elphine Queen’s intent and could not forget the
sight of the orb that held a beating heart captive.

She could not endure it if he was lost to the
dark queen and she never saw him hale again. It was clear the trap
closed and quickly.

How could she be of aid? This was knowledge
she would not find in books, or even from Eleanor. If any knew it,
they would be unlikely to share it for fear of attracting the
attention of the Fae. Why had the smith muttered about selfless
deeds? Isabella yearned to ask him more, but she was trapped within
Kinfairlie’s hall as surely as if she had been locked away in a
high tower. The morn, which would be her first chance to go to the
village, seemed too far away.

Meanwhile, Kinfairlie’s hall bustled with
preparations. Alexander himself led a party of men to the forest to
search for Rhys, although Eleanor was much concerned by his
departure so late in the day. A bath was summoned for Madeline and
the evening meal was hastened to the board, children were fussed
over, and whispers abounded. The Fae that Isabella had seen earlier
were absent, and she wondered whether they had already moved their
spoils to Ravensmuir.

Would she be able to think of an excuse to go
there in the morning? Would it be too late? Would it be better that
she went to the smith or Ravensmuir? What about Murdoch? She might
have talked to Elizabeth, but her younger sister seemed determined
to evade her.

The women sat in the hall long after the
board was cleared, waiting for the return of Alexander and his
party. There was no pretence of doing needlework that night and
little chatter. They sat close to one great fire, their concern
palpable. Isabella considered Elizabeth, sitting opposite her, and
knew that any word she said would be overheard by all. She yearned
for a moment of privacy, but suspected she was not to have it
before the sisters retired.

First the men would have to return. Eleanor
might have paced, had Moira not forbidden as much.

Madeline did pace. “I hope Rhys is well,” she
said yet again, glancing toward the portal as she bit her lip. She
had made the same comment at least a dozen times, but this time, it
yielded results.

There was the sound of hoof beats in the
bailey and every soul in Kinfairlie’s hall rose to their feet.
Moira could not halt Eleanor from striding to the portal. Anthony
stood at his post near the door, bowing low as Alexander strode
across the threshold.

Eleanor surveyed her husband and exhaled with
obvious relief.

Alexander’s eyes flashed with fury even as he
doffed his gloves. “Isabella!” he roared. He offered his hand to
Eleanor, coaxing her to take the seat Anthony had abandoned. His
expression remained grim.

The bottom dropped out of Isabella’s belly
when she saw Rhys fast behind her brother, his expression no less
formidable.

“Rhys!” Madeline ran to her spouse, who
caught her close. He glared at Isabella over Madeline’s shoulder
and she knew he had told Alexander what he had seen.

“What madness is this?” Alexander demanded of
Isabella. “Rhys says you were
there
, with the renegade!”

“Nay, she gave him aid,” Rhys corrected. “And
called him by name. Murdoch.”

The women of the household gasped, turning to
consider Isabella.

“Is this true?” Alexander asked, his words
dangerously low. “Aye or nay, Isabella?”

The entire hall was silent, every gaze locked
upon Isabella.

Isabella was not going to lie. If she had any
chance to clear Murdoch’s reputation with her family, this would be
the start of it. “I was there,” she admitted. “I heard Madeline cry
for Rhys and when I arrived, Murdoch was trying to halt his squires
from robbing Rhys.”

“Rhys says otherwise. Rhys says the brigand,
the man you call Murdoch, was trying to rob him.”

Isabella shook her head. “No. He pledged to
me that he would halt these attacks.”

“He pledged this to you?” Alexander echoed.
“And why did he owe to you such a boon?”

Isabella flushed and dropped her gaze.

Alexander swore with vigor as the hall filled
with chatter.

Isabella glanced up to see Alexander turn to
Anthony and murmur some command which sent the older man on a
mission. Eleanor had dropped her brow to her hands. Isabella
surveyed her family, realizing that they thought she had
surrendered her chastity to Murdoch. They convicted him without
hearing the tale!

Alexander walked toward Isabella, still in
his armor, still angry. “This renegade robs my guests and my
messengers, but you conjure promises from him?”

“He seeks the return of his family’s relic,
bought at Ravensmuir. He believed you knew its location.”

“But I have told him otherwise. Have you
defied me, Isabella, to assist this man in his lawlessness?”

Isabella swallowed. “I believed that if he
had the relic returned, he would be satisfied. I believe that the
thief is within Kinfairlie’s hall.” Shock passed through the
company at that, and people exchanged glances of alarm. “Indeed, I
know of its location and we could retrieve it...”

“Let us remain with the matter at hand.”
Alexander walked closer, removing his riding gloves. “You chose to
betray the trusted people of my household, on the basis of this
stranger’s suspicions, specifically against my wishes in my own
hall?”

“I wished only to see justice served and when
I knew you innocent of his charge, I asked for his pledge...”

“The administration of justice is my
responsibility!” Alexander shouted, interrupting her. “You, as my
younger sister, have no legal or judicial right over mine. Do you
understand?”

“Yes, Alexander.”

He inhaled, obviously restraining his temper.
“Upstairs, Isabella. Now.” That was all Alexander said before he
spun on his heel and marched up the stairs to the tower.

Perhaps he would hear the details of her tale
in privacy, rather than before the entire company. Isabella dared
to hope as much. Alexander was not unfair. He was angry in this
moment, but his anger always faded quickly.

Isabella followed him with as much
comportment as she could manage. It seemed that every soul in
Kinfairlie’s hall had judged her and found her guilty, just as they
had judged and found Murdoch guilty. It was hardly the place to
confess that the Fae were responsible for the trouble.

Only her sister Elizabeth would believe that
– and perhaps even she would not.

Rhys fell into step behind Isabella and she
knew it was not coincidence.

At the top of the first flight of stairs,
Alexander waited, slapping his gloves against his palm. She
realized then that he was more angry than Isabella had ever seen
him before. To her surprise, the door to the chamber that had once
been shared by her brothers stood open and there were maids inside,
sweeping the floor at Anthony’s dictate.

Alexander seized Isabella’s elbow and marched
her into the chamber. At a glance from Alexander, Anthony bowed and
left. The maids fled after him. Rhys shut the door firmly behind
the three of them. Alexander leaned his hips against the
windowsill, folded his arms across his chest and surveyed Isabella.
Behind him, the sea churned in shades of silver and blue, and the
first stars were appearing.

Her brother’s expression was not
encouraging.

“What precisely have you done?” he asked with
a quietude Isabella did not trust.

Rhys blocked the door behind Isabella, his
arms folded across his chest and his expression no more
encouraging. Isabella looked between the two of them and took a
deep breath. “I tried to find the truth.”

“At what price and by what means?”
Alexander’s eyes glinted with determination when Isabella remained
silent. He was as far from the mischievous boy who had tormented
Isabella for much of her life as could be possible. He reminded her
of her father in this moment, when the children had been caught at
some transgression. “Begin with the arrival of the renegade in this
very keep and do not omit one detail of what you have done.”

Isabella knotted her hands before herself.
“Murdoch came to you...”

“Murdoch, is it then?” Alexander demanded,
pushing away from the window. “You know him well enough to refer to
him by his Christian name? How many times have you seen him? How
many times have you spoken to him?” He spun to face her. “
What
else have you done with him?
”

“Let her tell the tale,” Rhys said calmly.
Alexander turned to look out the window, those gloves slapping
against his palm again.

“Murdoch came to you because the relic his
family had purchased at Ravensmuir had been stolen,” she said
firmly. “I heard your exchange and I knew you lied to him when you
said you knew naught of it.”

Alexander glanced over his shoulder. “I beg
your pardon? You
heard
our exchange? How was that possible
when you were in your chamber and I was in a room a floor
above?”

Isabella blushed. “I listened at the
door.”

Alexander glared at her.

“I thought he had come courting and wished to
know which sister’s hand he sought. I listened. I did not
anticipate what I would hear.”

“Fair enough,” Rhys said quietly and
Alexander’s lips tightened.

“But you lied, Alexander,” Isabella
continued, her own voice rising. “You said you did not know
anything about the relic, much less its disappearance, but his
tidings were not a surprise to you, I heard as much in your
voice.”

Alexander began to pace. “You eavesdropped
upon a conversation you should not have heard and you accuse
me
of dishonesty.”

“Yes,” Isabella acknowledged. “I also knew
you could not be the thief...”

“I thank you for that endorsement of my
character.”

“...and that you could not even know the
identity of the thief, for you would have ensured justice was
served. You would never stand by and let injustice continue.”
Alexander gave her a pointed glance and Isabella took a deep
breath. “Murdoch did not believe me, though, so I thought to prove
your innocence.”

“You are not obliged to defend
me
to a
criminal,” Alexander began, then fell silent as he evidently
realized some detail. “Wait! ’Twas
you
who read my
correspondence. I knew someone had opened the trunk, for it was in
disarray. ’Twas
you
who stole into my chamber and pilfered
my possessions.”

“Perhaps she learns the renegade’s trade,”
Rhys commented.

Isabella felt her cheeks heat yet more. “It
was for the greater good!”

“We shall have to keep a list of my sister’s
transgressions, Rhys, lest we forget an item or six.” Alexander
fixed her with a look. “This morning, you were in the chapel in
Kinfairlie village when Father Malachy arrived. You led him from
the chapel with some demand that he bless the baker’s son, who
proved to be surprisingly hale. The renegade fled from the chapel
immediately thereafter, for village women saw him. Did you know of
his presence there?”

Isabella stared at the tips of her shoes.
“Yes.”

“And so you lied to the priest to ensure that
the rogue could escape.” Alexander began to pace the width of the
chamber. “How did you come to be in the chapel this morning when
Murdoch was there? Was this an assignation?”

“I wanted to check the crypt for the stolen
relics,” Isabella began but Alexander interrupted her.

“Why did you not check the treasury?”

Isabella averted her gaze.

“She did,” Rhys said softly as Alexander’s
eyes blazed with anger.

Her brother exhaled and cast his gloves on
the window sill. “It appears, Rhys, that we have a thief in
Kinfairlie’s forest and another within its tower walls.”

With those words, Isabella knew that her
brother had decided her fate.

And that she would not like his judgment.

* * *

Murdoch leaned his back against the cold
stone of Kinfairlie’s tower, catching his breath as he faced the
sea. The light of a lantern glowed in a window overhead and he was
certain he must have been seen as he crossed the bailey.

He had approached the tower from this side
because it was all in darkness. When the lantern had illuminated
that window so abruptly, he had been in the open. He had dropped to
the ground, certain there would be a hue and cry.

When none came, he eased forward on his
belly, keeping to what shadows he could find as he worked his way
toward the tower. He’d crept behind the stables to the wall of the
tower and stood in the shadows now, catching his breath.

He felt better here, more like himself and
more in command of his mind and body. He was warmer, as well. Was
it because of Isabella’s proximity? Or was it distance from the
Elphine Queen? Murdoch suspected the latter.

Which meant that he would never return to
Kinfairlie’s forest.

The stables were busy, ostlers shouting and
squires hustling. Who had arrived? Who had ridden out? What was
happening at Kinfairlie?

Overhead, a man shouted in anger, his voice
carrying easily to Murdoch’s ears.

“I beg your pardon?” that man cried. “You
heard
our exchange? How was that possible when you were in
your chamber and I was in a room a floor above?”