“Get them off,” the captain instructed, “and ask no questions of me.”
“Aye,” the smith said with a nod of his head. He was by nature a taciturn man.
Iver arrived as the first manacle and chain fell from Beinn’s wrist. He cocked an eyebrow with curiosity, but did not ask. If Beinn wished to tell him, he would.
“Fetch the laird, but be careful not to frighten the lady,” the captain said. “She should know nothing of this.”
Iver nodded silently and disappeared back into the building. The second manacle and chain fell loose. Beinn was rubbing his wrists as Iver returned.
“He’ll see you in his privy chamber,” Iver said. “Can I go back to bed now?”
“Aye, and say naught to Fenella,” Beinn responded.
“Fenella?”
“She’s in your bed, isn’t she?” the captain said with a small grin.
Iver neither denied nor confirmed Beinn’s query.
The two men entered the house, Iver going one way and Beinn the other. Reaching his master’s privy chamber, he knocked and then entered.
The laird shoved a goblet of wine in his hand. “What happened?” he asked. “Why did you not remain watching longer?”
“There was no need. Sir Udolf was there. She’s killed him, and he’s buried. I would have been back a day sooner but that her lack-wit somehow heard me and hit me with something, probably a shovel. When I awoke I found myself restrained. It took me several hours to break free from the wooden posts I was chained to, and then several more hours traversing the moor home in the darkness.”
“Your horse?”
“Probably wandered off. I didn’t want to waste the time searching for it. While all in the house were sleeping when I broke free, I feared discovery. I was fortunate the dog did not hear me and set up barking as I went through the window. There is a chance they have the horse though,” Beinn admitted honestly. “I was already up the hill to fetch it when I found it gone. I thought it better I not go back, my lord. It was more important I reach you. I thinkshemeant to kill me.”
The laird nodded. “Aye, she is not afraid to murder, as we know. You’ve done well, Beinn.”
“What will you do, my lord?” he asked the laird.
“I am not certain I will do anything,” Malcolm Scott said. “Sir Udolf is dead and so Alix will not be harassed again by him. As for Robena, let her wonder what I will do. But why did she kill him? And did he tell her of Alix and our bairns? I am curious as to what she will do, but then there is little she dare outside of her own cottage.”
“I do not know if she knows of your wife and bairns, my lord,” Beinn said honestly. “But I believe she may be waylaying those who stumble upon her cottage and robbing them of whatever they have.”
“And probably taking the hapless men who fall into her web as lovers,” the laird said dryly. “I hate the thought of imprisoning her in the old tower by Dunglais Water, but I suppose I must think on it. It would not do for either Alix or Fiona to stumble upon Robena’s dwelling one day. I know I have been lenient with her. Another man would have slain her where he caught her that day, Beinn.”
“Aye, my lord, they would have. But this new murder cannot go unpunished. It is true that Sir Udolf Watteson has no family to come seeking his fate. But if there have been others in the past, if there are others in the future, the bitch may not have such good fortune. You have done your best to protect her from herself, my lord, but now I fear you must protect others from her. Fyfa and Rafe are good souls, and they do their best by her, but you know that she dominates them by virtue of her position as their mistress. They can do so much. She is dangerous, and grows more so, I fear.”
The laird nodded. “I do not disagree with you, Beinn,” he said. “But autumn and winter are upon us. My lady will birth another bairn soon. I would not have her learn of Robena and her situation, for it will certainly distress her. And I most surely do not want Fiona ever knowing that the mother who birthed her is yet alive. The pain that woman caused my daughter has been wiped away by Alix’s love for her.”
“You cannot wait, my lord,” Beinn pressed the laird as gently as he dared.
“I know, I know. Before the winter we will settle the matter. I would speak with Father Donald before I make any decisions about Robena. The secret must remain only with the three of us, old friend.”
“Agreed, my lord,” Beinn said.
“You look weary, as well you should,” Malcolm Scott noted. “I know it is almost dawn, but go and find your bed for a few hours.”
“Aye,” Beinn responded. “I am weary, my lord.”Wearier than you can imagine,he thought to himself as he left his master’s privy chamber and went to his own space. As captain of the laird’s men he had a little chamber of his own. His buttocks were sore with the beating he had received, but at least she had been careful and not drawn blood. He washed in the cold water from his pitcher as best he could, trying to rid the stench of the woman’s sex from his body.
God’s bones! Had the laird smelled it on him? He prayed not. But then his long walk in the night air should have helped to dissipate the stink of her. The priest had not come. He would see him later though, and tell him all that had happened. Then he would make his confession to Father Donald. The priest would agree with him. Robena Ramsay needed to be caged like the wild beast she was. Malcolm Scott’s heart was much too good, but if he did not act soon his indecision could very easily lead to a tragedy.
Chapter 18
In the half-light of an early dawn Fyfa shook her mistress roughly awake.
