Beitris rushed to her mother’s side and slid beneath her arm to support her. “Come, Mama. I’m sure Dullis already has the laundress boiling the water for yer bath. We’ll get ye cleaned, fed, filled with whisky broth, and off to yer dreams, aye?” She shot a determined glare back at Valan as she led Elspet away.
“We must talk,” Valan said to William as he watched Elspet climb the forestair and enter her private hall. “We have but three days to come up with a plan that doesna include killing Euban and Granger.”
“Even an accident wouldna be acceptable?” William’s eyes narrowed to plotting slits. He stared off into the distance and scratched the reddish-blond stubble shadowing his jaw.
Valan debated the possibility, warming to William’s suggestion. “Another course of action would be better, I think. With but three days to prepare, it would be a challenge to arrange two believable accidents—one for Euban and one for Granger.” He scanned the courtyard, idly noting any possibilities that might help rid them of one or both men. A fall from the battlements might be difficult to manage without witnesses. “Lady Elspet must be above reproach. Therefore, we must strive to be the same, since I am sure her enemies have noted our loyalty to her.”
“She and her husband were always loyal to the king, aye?” William’s blue eyes flashed, a sure sign the young warrior had come up with a different tactic.
“Aye. Loyal to Alexander and Scotland both.” A subtle survey of the courtyard revealed entirely too many folk who might overhear. “Come.” Valan moved them to the forestair, pausing on the landing in the first turn. There, they would be too high to be heard from below, and safe from anyone approaching without their knowledge. “What is yer plan?”
“Did the MacDougall happen to share the name of my cousin with ye?” William shifted in place as though embarrassed to ask the question.
Valan didn’t care about the man’s lineage, but William behaved as though it was important. “Not a word of it. He told us of yer warring skills when ye showed up five years ago determined to join theGallóglaigh. Yer ancestry was of no concern to us.”
William’s grip on the wooden railing tightened, turning his knuckles white. “I gave my name as MacAlpine.” He paused, tilting his head as if that should mean something.
“Aye, what of it? Out with it, man. This is no time for guessing games.” Valan glanced up at the door to Elspet’s private hall. Not a single servant had entered or exited. Beitris should have sent for food and wine for her mother by now.
“MacAlpine is actually one of my middle names. De Coucy is my surname.”
“William MacAlpine de Coucy?” The hairs rose on the back of Valan’s neck. He studied the lad closer. “Are ye saying ye are a relation of our king?” With William’s reddish-blond hair and massive build, Valan found that hard to believe.
His second in command twitched a nervous shrug. “A cousin, actually. A distant one. But Alexander and I have always maintained a verra close accord. He granted me permission to join the Lord of Argyll’sGallóglaighout of deference to my mother. She and his mother, Marie de Coucy, have always been close as well.” He squared his broad shoulders. “No one but yerself and the Lord of Argyll knows of this, though. Thankfully, both Alexander and the MacDougall agreed to set aside the old grievances regarding the previous Lord of Argyll’s allegiance to Norway and Alexander’s father’s death at Kerrera whilst attempting to bring them back to Scotland.”
Valan leaned back against the sturdy wood railing and scrubbed his face with both hands. “God’s teeth, man, ye didna think to share this with me ’til now?”
“I wished no special treatment.”
“The only special treatment ye wouldha received was yer arse sent back to yer mother and yer cousin.” He glared at the young warrior who was about ten years his junior. A brother in arms who had battled harder than all the rest to achieve the coveted position of second in command of the mightyGallóglaigh.
“A man has no control over his ancestry, Constable. Only his future.”
True. Valan held his tongue and stepped aside as a pair of maids scurried up the steps, squeezed past them, then entered Elspet’s hall. One carried a tray of food. The other clutched a bucket in one hand and a pitcher in the other. ’Twas about time they tended their mistress. His gaze slid back to William. Now. What to do about this one? Such connections could easily become a royal pain in the arse.
“I have an idea that might help,” William offered.
“What?”
“Alexander should be in Fife this time of year. At Kinghorn Castle, ye ken?” William paused as if that information would somehow deliver Caerlaverock from Euban’s clutches.
Valan failed to see how. Fife was north of the Firth of Forth, well across it in fact, beyond Edinburgh. “And?” Damn, the boy had a way of dragging out what was on his mind. “Out with it!”
“We could send word. Request he name Lady Elspet the laird and place the Maxwell lands safely under her protection.” He almost bounced in place, unable to contain his excitement.
Valan held up three fingers. “We have only three short days ’til Euban arrives. There is not a horse alive that can get all the way to Kinghorn and back here in three days.” He let his hand drop and shook his head. “And I verra much doubt our king would take such a political risk as issuing a command that Lady Elspet be made Clan Maxwell’s next laird. Gifts of manors, holdings, and lands to a woman is one thing. Giving her control of a clan, especially one so close to the border, is another thing entirely. He willna risk that. There is enough turmoil already between the families of Scotland.”
William scowled up at the hall’s door as if it was the source of the problem. “Then I dinna have a feckin’ clue about what might be done.”
“Come. We will join the women and speak with them.” Valan climbed the stairs, then turned back and studied William. Another plan came to him, falling in place like well-woven chainmail. The young warrior liked Beitris well enough. Seemed besotted with her, even. Surely, the men of Clan Maxwell would covet a connection to the king of Scotland. Respect it, even. What clan wouldn’t desire such a powerful laird?
“Why do ye stare at me?” William squinted and braced himself, as though expecting a blow to the jaw.
“Ye find yerself drawn to Lady Beitris, aye?”
One of William’s brows inched higher than the other. “Perhaps—why?”
Valan almost laughed out loud at the man’s leeriness. “A marriage to the king’s cousin with the condition that Caerlaverock and all the Maxwell lands be the lady’s dowry would be difficult for Euban and Granger to challenge.”
