“Congratulations.” Gray glanced back at Trulie. “I hope to enjoy such a welcoming in my own clan once Lady Trulie and I are wed.”
Lord Dunbar’s face took on a thoughtful frown as he smoothed his hand across his beard. “Have ye settled on a day for the wedding, or do ye intend to wait until Donell shows his hand?”
Dunbar’s question unsettled Gray. What had the man heard? “Donell has not been to MacKenna land since he signed the marriage contract and saddled my father with Aileas.”
“The man knows of his daughter’s treatment. Word has it he has Alexander’s ear and demands justice.” Lord Dunbar clasped his hands behind his back. “If ye ask me, ’tis ludicrous. All ken how much he loathed his daughter, Aileas.”
Gray studied Lord Dunbar. What did the earl have to gain by posing as messenger for a now penniless lowland laird? Gray had heard of Donell’s penchant for drink and romps with as many bawdy women as he could pay for at a time. The man ruled his clan with his thirst and his cock rather than his mind. “Pray tell, what price has Donell placed on this justice?”
Lord Dunbar shrugged as he turned and looked around the hall. “Land, more than likely. The drunken fool seems to have learned that coinage slips too easily through his fingers.”
“If Donell wants land…” Gray stood taller and flexed his fists. “Let the fool come and try to take it.”
Dunbar’s rotund body shook as he rumbled with amusement. “Ye know the coward will do no such thing. ’Tis the verra reason that brings me to yer keep.” The lord’s face grew serious as he turned, scooped up his tankard, and sucked down a long swallow. “I respect ye, MacKenna, as my father respected yours. Ye are an honorable man. A good man who should not meet his end at the hands of a coward.” Dunbar stared down at the floor as he swirled the last dredges of liquid in his glass. His face tightened into a grim scowl as he lifted his head and locked eyes with Gray. “Watch yerself, MacKenna. Watch all within yer keep. If Donnell’s drunken rants hold an ounce of truth, evil still lurks within these walls.”
CHAPTER23
“Anything yet?” Trulie slid her hand along the cool, damp wall at her back until she found Granny’s arm. Karma’s tail thumped against her leg as the dog pressed closer.
“Nothing,” Granny whispered.
Trulie had been afraid that would be Granny’s answer, because if she didn’t pick up the slightest vision, then chances were that Granny wouldn’t sense any energy either. Trulie squinted across the night-shrouded garden. The partial sliver of moon hanging low over the horizon cast a ghostly pall across the gray-white slabs of stepping-stones and rows of gently swaying plants. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, she decided, a bit too late. Maybe it was the wrong night to catch the would-be assassin. She snorted with frustration. There were many maybes whirling through the air.
“Are you sure it was this garden?” Granny moved closer, visibly flinching as her shoe crunched in the dry soil piled against the wall.
“Shh,” Trulie hissed. Without looking back, she rested her hand on top of Karma’s head, trying to quiet the dog’s soft, impatient growl. “You finally received the same premonition. Didn’t it look like this garden to you?”
Granny’s pale skin glowed in the darkness as she leaned forward and looked from east to west. Her lips puckered, as she wrinkled her nose and adjusted the position of her glasses. “Yep. This was it. But a lot has happened since then. Things could change. That was before we found out about Fearghal and Beala. My vision hasn’t recurred since then. Has yours?”
“Just the part about Colum.” Trulie scanned the perimeter of the garden, then pressed back against the wall. “I told you what the earl said. From the sound of his warning, the premonition must still be valid.”
The slightest movement in the shadows beside the far wall caught Trulie’s attention. Karma murmured another low warning growl. Trulie squeezed Granny’s arm, then pointed at the dark figure moving slowly toward the corner where the foxglove grew. Karma crouched into attack stance; his ears perked toward the figure.
The sliding crunch of metal sinking into wet soil echoed through the night. Trulie stared at the darkened corner until her eyes watered from the strain. Whoever was after the poisonous plant had decided to dig it up after the summer rain, rather than be satisfied with snipping off a few of its leaves.
Trulie tugged on Granny’s sleeve and settled her other hand on Karma’s head. “Stay here. Both of you,” she whispered, then gathered up her skirts and eased away from the wall.
Granny nodded and pressed flatter against the wall. Karma softly whined his disagreement, but rolled back on his haunches and sat beside Granny.
With her gaze locked on the cloaked figure wrestling with the plant, Trulie crouched low and skittered to the far wall adjacent to the foxglove. The mysterious person wasn’t accustomed to manual labor. Every time the shovel bit into the dirt, Trulie distinctly heard a huffing grunt.
She sized up the figure cloaked all in black. They weren’t very tall. In fact, she could tackle them to the ground. The more she thought about it, the better she felt about that plan. Yep. That was exactly what she was going to do. Tackle the scum and sit on their chest while Granny went for help.
Trulie prepared for the perfect moment to spring. As the shadowy form bent to yank the plant out of the ground, she launched across the last few feet between them. Her solid hit knocked them both to the ground. The fiend emitted a surprised squeak as Trulie landed on top of them.
Karma growled, leaped across the garden, and joined Trulie. The dog couldn’t stand idle any longer. But as Trulie and her prey rolled to a stop, he took a step closer, snuffled the heavy cloak, then woofed a happy greeting and wagged his tail.
“Coira!” Trulie fell back on her heels as the maid flailed her way out of her hooded garment.
“By the fires of hell, Mistress Trulie. Ye damn near broke my neck.” Coira rolled to a sitting position. “Lore a’mercy. I thought ye were with the MacKenna.”
“What are you doing here digging up the foxglove?” Trulie yanked Coira back down as she tried to scramble to her feet. What a way to spend a night, mud wrestling with Coira.
“Can ye not believe what yer own eyes tell ye? If I get rid of the herb, there will be no more murders.” Coira yanked the hem of her shift up to her face and wiped at the splashes of mud.
“Trulie.” Granny’s urgent whisper called across the garden.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming out here?” Trulie huffed an expletive under her breath as she held up a finger to Granny. “In a minute, Granny. I am busy stalking Coira.”
