Warrior's Lady (34 page)

"When we arrived at the Bishop Berwick's home earlier this evening, we found Mistress Berwick lying prostrate on the bed over her son's body, and a pistol on the floor. She claims you injured them both out of revenge."

"And why would I feel the need to seek revenge against these two?" Camden asked, so startled by the allegations that he reacted with a stunned, harsh laugh.

The man glanced at the bishop and his mother before continuing. "Because the bishop challenged you about the proper care of your niece along with your niece's caretaker, a woman of questionable character."

Everyone else in the room gasped, except Camden. Instead, anger singed the corners of his control. Praise the saints that Rhiannon and Violet were safely upstairs and unable to hear such bitter claims against them. "You can question my character all you like. But you will leave Mistress Rhiannon and Lady Violet out of this."

Camden strode toward the table where the Church council sat. "All of this is not because of my niece or her companion, but because of the bishop's greed to possess the Lockhart family's treasure."

Again the chamber filled with excited voices, gasps of horror and intrigue.

Bishop Berwick moved forward to meet Camden in front of the table. "If you know what is good for you, you will hand over that
treasure
," he said for Camden's ears alone. An evil smile spread across his thin lips.

"Never," Camden growled quietly.

The bishop's cheeks darkened in anger.

As Camden turned to the council, he caught sight of Rhiannon and Violet standing on the bottom step, watching the proceedings. He nodded at them, oddly comforted by Rhiannon's presence, despite what she may have heard the bishop say about her. "I can state, without any reservation, that I have never been deliberately cruel to a female before."

"Never?" the bishop drawled.

"Never." Camden's voice was hoarse with frustration.

"Was it kindness then that prompted you to hire an assassin to kill all of the Ruthvens, including Mistress Rhiannon Ruthven?"

Hushed silence filled the chamber. Not a sound could be heard except the pulse of Camden's own heartbeat in his ears. He shifted his gaze toward the stairs, to the pale look of devastation on Rhiannon's face. He stood stock-still, his face expressionless, his fists balled at his sides. Dear heaven above, how could the bishop know that?

A sneer cut across the bishop's face. "Do you deny it?"

"No." A cacophony of chatter filled the chamber. He couldn't care less what everyone else thought. He only cared about Rhiannon. "There is an explanation."

She stepped from the stairs fully into the chamber. "Rhiannon." His voice was thick and low as he strode toward her. "I was about to tell you the truth myself."

She lowered her lashes, hiding her eyes from him. "Did you succeed in killing my brothers?"

"Aye."

"You were responsible for the attack in the horse cart?"

"Aye."

"At the cottage?" her voice trembled, as did her hands.

"I tried to break off the attacks then." It was too little, too late; he knew.

She clamped her arms around her waist as though holding herself together. "You were responsible for those men who took me away and tried to burn me?"

He could hear the desperation in his own voice, but he didn't care. He looked back at the stairs, to the little girl who hid there in the shadows. He had to own up to all of it if they were ever to have a future together, the three of them. "Ultimately, aye."

"I feel like such a fool to have trusted you." Rhiannon closed her eyes. "How could I be so naive to let you manipulate me like that?" She opened her eyes to reveal a shimmer of tears. "What else have you lied to me about?"

He took a step closer and touched her arms. "I didn't lie about my feelings for you. My desire for you was more than sincere."

"Don't." She flinched, holding her hands out to stop his advance. Her eyes blazed at him from within her pale face. "You need no longer pretend you care for me."

"I do care for you, my love. More than anything." He took another step closer. He held out the Charms Stone to her. "You know how much this Stone means to the Lockharts. But you mean more." He pressed the Stone into her hand. "Give it to the bishop or keep it for Violet."

She stared down at the Stone in her hand. "This Stone is a blessing."

"You decide its fate."

She shook her head. "Only you and Lady Violet can use the Stone, so why offer it to that madman?"

"Only a Lockhart can use the Stone?" Anger laced the bishop's voice as his gaze shot to Orrin. "You lied to me."

Rhiannon held the Stone back out for Camden to take. "The Charm Stone means everything to you."

"You mean more," he repeated. "The assassin is dead. He cannot hurt you any longer. I shall watch over you and Lady Violet, forever. All that I am, all that I have, are yours."

Tears fell onto Rhiannon's cheeks now, trailing down her face.

"I have found my faith once again because of you — faith in myself, and faith in us." Camden paused. "I'm asking you, Rhiannon, to have faith in me."

A suffocating sensation tightened his throat as the silence lengthened between them.

"What are the three of you talking about? The council should be involved." The oldest member of the council stepped forward, his mouth set in annoyance.

The bishop put out his hand. "Quickly and quietly, give me the Stone," he whispered low enough for only Rhiannon and Camden to hear.

The tears in Rhiannon's eyes vanished, replaced with fury. "You brought the plague here." She stepped forward, forcing the bishop back.

"The plague?" The councilman stopped his progression toward them and his eyes widened in terror.

"Keep your voice down." The bishop darted a gaze back at the council members. "I'm warning you."

"Twenty-two people are dead because of you," she said in a voice clear enough for all to hear.

"No!" The bishop backed farther away from Rhiannon. "The woman, she lies."

"She speaks the truth." Rhys stepped out of the crowd.

The bishop's eyes went wide and his face paled. "You're alive."

"Because of this." Rhiannon held the Charm Stone from its short silver chain for all to see. "The legendary Charm Stone."

"The source of witchcraft," another one of the council members gasped.

The oldest councilman stood before Rhiannon. His brows turned down in a frown. "Have you used this Stone, milady? Have you performed acts of witchcraft?"

Camden felt his muscles clench. His thoughts flashed back to Clara, to the helplessness he had felt at not being there to help her when this very same Council had found her guilty of the same crime. He gripped the hilt of his sword, determined to fight his way past the Church council if necessary to keep Rhiannon safe.

"Why is it that if I use the Stone to heal people it would be seen as witchcraft to you? Yet the bishop uses the same Stone and it would be seen as a miracle?

The councilman frowned. "Milady, perhaps the issue is too complex for you to understand."

"I understand all I need to. The Stone saved my life, and the lives of all the others who you see before you now," Rhiannon continued. "After each use of the Stone both Lady Clara and Lady Violet made the sign of the cross over the body of the person they had treated. To me that shows a certain respect for the divinity of healing by the Creator, not witchcraft."

"If you need further proof of the Stone's goodness, its powers healed me from the plague and a deadly knife wound," Rhys said from the crowd.

The man from the council reached out and touched the silver coin housing the stone, hesitantly. "What do you mean, it has healed you?"

Rhys stepped up beside the older councilman. "I was close to death when I arrived at the gates of Lee Castle a few days ago. That man," he pointed to Bishop Berwick, "exposed me to the plague that his mother had contracted. Without knowing I was ill, I came here and unfortunately spread the sickness to innocents." Rhys pulled aside the tail of his tartan and lifted his shirt up to expose his chest. The councilman narrowed his gaze on Rhys' chest. "I was near death, and yet I lived. Without a single mark from either the plague or the knife upon my body."

"Nay." The bishop came forward and snatched the Charm Stone from Rhiannon's fingers. "Liars. They are all liars who shall be punished." He spun around, his eyes wild, heading for the stairs. Before Camden realized where the bishop was headed, he'd grabbed Violet from the shadows and hauled her into the chamber.

Camden drew his sword and charged, stopping an arm's length away from the bishop, his blade jabbed at the bishop's throat. "Let her go. I have had enough of you and your accusations."

The bishop moved his free hand into the folds of his robes. A flash of silver warned of a dagger.

"Do not draw your weapon," Camden said coolly. "I'd like nothing better than an excuse to slit your throat."

"You'll regret this," the bishop snarled.

"Why should we regret setting things to rights?" Rhiannon asked, pulling Violet into the safety of her arms before lifting the Charm Stone from the bishop's hand.

The bishop growled, then twisted toward the Council, careful to avoid thrusting himself into Camden's blade. "This little girl is the witch here, not that woman," he tossed a bitter glance Rhiannon's way.

The chamber exploded in an uproar. The members of the council at the table turned to speak to each other. But Camden kept his eyes firmly on the bishop. "You've been exposed. Your plans for the Stone will never come to fruition."

"You're wrong." He shook his head. "It's my fate to become the next Archbishop of Glasgow. The Council will side with me. You will suffer because of my mother's accusations against you. And that little girl will hang, just like her mother."

Violet clutched Rhiannon's skirt in her hands, burying herself in the green fabric. "Don't let them hang me," Violet gasped.

"You will not hang, Lady Violet," Rhiannon reassured her, stroking her golden curls. "Members of the Council. Please, hear me out."

The room settled into silence.

"Can someone bring me a mug of ale from the barrel near the hearth?" One of the young women she'd helped survive the plague brought her a mug filled with ale. "Thank you, Mary Anne."

The young woman curtsied. "Milady."

Rhiannon embraced Violet. "One more time, will you treat the ale?"

At Violet's nod, they approached the councilmen at the head table. The oldest councilman followed behind them. "The Charm Stone brings the wondrous gift of healing." Rhiannon set the mug on the table and handed the Charm Stone to Violet.

"Lord Camden Lockhart explained to me that only those who are Lockharts through marriage or by blood can use the Stone." At Rhiannon's nod, Violet dipped the coin into the amber-colored liquid three times, then swirled it to the right.

As Violet treated the ale, Rhiannon prayed that without someone saying an incantation, the Council could not rule Violet's actions as witchcraft.

Violet withdrew the coin and dried it on her dress. "The ale, when it is consumed by someone ill, will help that person to heal." Violet extended the mug toward the councilman near them, then handed the Stone back to Rhiannon.

He merely frowned into the mug. "How do I know the ale is safe to drink? How do I know I won't get the plague from drinking the liquid?"

Rhiannon took back the mug and took a sip herself.

Still he remained silent, scowling at the mug she'd returned to him. Rhiannon splayed her hand in a gesture encompassing the room. "All of these people drank from the treated ale. Now all are healed. Have you known anyone to survive the plague before?"

The councilman grasped the mug and sniffed the contents. "Very few are lucky enough to survive the disease." He brought the mug to his lips and drank. He frowned at the contents. "The ale tastes like any other."

One of the councilmen at the table stood. "Bishop Berwick, what kind of madness have you involved us in? What we witnessed was not witchcraft. No incantation was said. Witchcraft involves incantations and curses. The Charm Stone calls upon God's mercy. Would you have us deny His miracles?"

"No, that's not it. She—" the bishop objected, then stopped short at the prick of Camden's blade.

The other men of the council stood. "We've heard enough here today."

"What about the man's abuse of me?" the bishop's mother cried over the roar of voices that filled the room once more.

The oldest councilman turned to the woman. "Domestic matters are not our concern. We gave you our ear because of the seriousness of the charges you made against the man. And of those your son made against his niece." He narrowed his gaze on the woman. "Show me one bruise the man inflicted upon you and I will charge him with this crime."

The woman sputtered. "Well, I … give me a moment," she said, pushing back the sleeve of her brown silk gown.

The councilman shook his head. "We are done here." He turned to address the room. "All the charges are dropped against the Lockharts. You will retain possession of the Charm Stone. And should the people of this land ever need its healing properties, may we call upon you?"