“Who is it aboot?”
“Me. Are you daft? Can you not keep up?”
“It’s aboot you wanting to be Lady Campbell and not picking the right brother. You’ve had a chance to be the lady of the keep for three years, but you didn’t take it.”
“I didn’t take the job of being a servant.”
“What do you do all day?”
“What a genuine lady does.” At Laurel’s studiously blank expression, Colina huffed, “Sew.”
“Sew? Like a seamstress?” Laurel grinned.
“Hardly. I embroider.”
“Seamstresses do that too.”
“I’m through with you.” Colina tried to move again, but Laurel remained in the way.
“For today or for forever?” Laurel narrowed her eyes. “Just to be clear, since I’m such an eejit, you wish for me and the laird to die, so your husband the tánaiste becomes laird. That makes you the lady of the clan. But you didn’t want to actually be the lady while you had a three-year chance because that involved work. You merely want the title.”
“I ken you tell your husband everything. Speak of this to him, and your next accident will be sooner than you expect.”
“Like Gara’s?” Laurel tossed out. She suspected who encouraged Gara to be so hostile. The maid was a perfect scapegoat.
“Exactly,” Colina snapped.
Laurel wasn’t going to press for more. She’d learned an intriguing—or rather disturbing—number of things about her sister-by-marriage. The woman’s scorn was too genuine for her to just be testing Laurel by saying outlandish things. What concerned Laurel more than Colina’s thinly veiled threats was Dominic’s role in all of this. She decided she had one more question.
“Dominic must look forward to elevating his status. Is he as eager as you?”
“Bah. He’s content as the tánaiste. I told you, I thought I chose the better one. He’s a follower, not a leader. I was duped, but never again.”
Laurel couldn’t resist. “Why tell me this if you think I might tell the laird?”
“Because you’re not so simple that you won’t understand your role now that you know.”
Laurel moved out of Colina’s way, letting the woman descend the stairs to the main floor before nodding to Brodie. Her husband slipped from the shadows and drew her into his arms. He didn’t know what to make of what he saw and heard. He’d feared several times that Colina would shove Laurel down the stairs. But Laurel’s skill for ferreting out information impressed him. Grateful that she’d survived the conversation without harm, he held her close.
“I was on my way to our solar,” Laurel explained.
“I ken. I heard your voice, then Colina’s. I was worried.”
The couple walked to their shared solar, and Laurel locked the door. Brodie joined Laurel on the window seat, and she recalled when he’d sat beside her on the window seat in her chamber at court. Brodie’s smile told Laurel he remembered too. They laced their fingers together, and Laurel leaned her head on Brodie’s shoulder.
“Could you hear everything?” she asked
“Aye. The woman is addlepated. There was never a choice. I never considered her as aught but my younger brother’s intended. She could have chosen me, but I never would have chosen her.”
“She basically admitted she’s responsible for me being locked in the larder. And it sounded an awful lot like she indirectly admitted killing Gara.” Laurel froze. Her heart leapt into her throat, and her mouth went dry. Slowly, she raised her head and leaned away. “Brodie, you said they’ve been married for three years. Hasn’t your mother been gone that long too?”
Laurel wished she could pull back and swallow her words when she witnessed Brodie’s stricken expression. He nodded as he stared into space. “They’d been married a fortnight when mother fell ill. Colina gave everyone the impression that she would one day be an excellent chatelaine until I married. She cared for Mother and seemed so concerned for her. But once Mother faded away, Colina no longer seemed interested in running the keep. Dominic and I thought it was grief. We thought she and Mother had grown close.” Brodie sprang to his feet. “Fuck.”
“Brodie?”
Brodie tipped his head back, an anguished groan seeming to pour out from his soul. When he looked at Laurel, the pain in his eyes made tears come to hers. “When Dom and I visited Mother, Colina would step out. Mother would become agitated. Dom and I thought she missed Colina, so we didn’t linger. She couldn’t speak much the last couple of months. Do you think she grew upset because she couldn’t tell us what Colina was doing to her?”
“Oh, Brodie.” Laurel’s heart ached. She had little doubt that Colina caused the previous Lady Campbell’s death. While Colina appeared sallow and mousy, the woman Laurel encountered today was menacing. If she’d been Brodie’s mother’s frequent caregiver, then it was likely she played a role. “I don’t know.”
