Leila hadno good scheme beyond compelling Stewart to leave Killairic.He did not bring his company with them, though she would have preferred otherwise, and he was inclined to be rough, which she admired yet less.Leila had been shoved onto the horse before Stewart and he held her captive there.He smelled like wood smoke, meat, and perspiration, a combination which made her stomach churn at such proximity.Agnes rode with them, while those who supported Stewart remained around the walls of Killairic.
Leila doubted they would wait very long for Stewart’s command to attack.
She hoped that some soul saw her situation from the tower, but did not rely upon it.They would be busy, following Enguerrand’s command to defend both village and keep.The smoke she had seen in the distance had dissipated so that fire must have been extinguished.She wondered where it had been, but knew she had more immediate concerns.
When Stewart would have turned his horse toward Killairic’s gates, Leila shook her head adamantly.She directed Stewart away from Killairic and down toward the firth, remembering the day that Fergus had shown her the boundaries of the holding.There had been a stone wall, an old one that had tumbled down in places.Fergus had talked about seeing to its repair after the crops were sown.She would insist that the reliquary was hidden there and pretend to have forgotten the exact place.It could only be better to delay longer, though she had no plan for the inevitable moment when Stewart realized she was lying.
“But it must be in the the hall or the village,” Agnes insisted, and Leila took great satisfaction in pretending to be unable to understand the girl.“Treasure!”Agnes shouted.“You take us to it!”
“Treasure!”Leila nodded and pointed down the hill.“Hidden,” she said, then nodded.“Safe.”
Agnes winced.“I thought itwassafe.”
Leila laughed, delighting in vexing the girl.She shook her head.“Nowsafe.”
Agnes gave her a furious look and Leila laughed again.
“Enough,” Stewart roared.“Guide me to it.”
Leila pointed away from Killairic and he slapped the rump of his horse.The beast galloped away from the keep, the palfrey following fast behind.
It took them an hour to reach the wall that Leila recalled, then she insisted upon walking alongside the crumbled wall as she pretended to seek the spot.She touched distinctive stones, and gave the appearance of counting, then looked into more than one gap in the wall, first with hope then with disappointment.Stewart’s impatience rose with every false location, but the sun made steady progress across the sky as Leila stalled him.
“It is not so safe if you cannot find it,” Agnes snapped.
Leila held up a finger as if recognizing the spot and hastened to a deep breach in the wall.She climbed into the gap and moved several stones as if they obstructed her access.She pretended to be unable to move a larger one and shook her head in vexation.Stewart swore and dismounted, flinging down the reins as he strode to her side.He moved the stone with a grunt and peered beneath it.There was naught but a small snake that slithered into the grass.
He seized Leila’s arm and lifted her to her toes.“You lie,” he said, undoubtedly speaking slowly to ensure that she understood.“The treasure is not here.”
Leila heard the sound of racing hoofbeats.
A destrier.
Fast approaching.
She could guess which one it was.She held Stewart’s gaze and smiled.
His eyes flashed in warning, then he cuffed her once again.Her eye was already swelling but this time, his ring cut the skin.Leila cried out and fell, tripping over the loose stones of the wall.
“I will take what is his.I will have vengeance,” he muttered, lifting his hauberk and unlacing his chausses.Leila scrambled backward but he stepped upon the hem of her kirtle, trapping her.Leila tried to tear the cloth without success.
“God in Heaven!”Agnes cried in obvious horror.“You cannot couple with a filthy infidel!”
“I will take whatever she can give to me.”Stewart freed himself, his gaze locked upon Leila.His intent needed no translation.The cloth of her kirtle finally tore and Leila made to flee, but Stewart seized her wrist and held her captive.His grip was bruising and she bent to bite him, but was struck again.She fell from the wall to the grass on Killairic’s side and knew her ankle had been twisted in the fall.
She could not run.
And Stewart knew it.He smiled as he jumped down from the wall and strode toward her.Leila scrambled backward, knowing she was doomed.The hoofbeats had fallen silent, which meant she had erred.
He would kill her and no one would intervene.
Stewart loomed over Leila and she instinctively cupped her belly with one hand, realizing only too late what she had communicated to him.
For Stewart smiled coldly.“Rise, whore,” he said with malice.“I will take something else from Fergus this day.”He laced his chausses again and Leila got to her feet, fearing his intent.She had to stand on one foot, able to only brace herself with the toe of the injured one.“You are a whore, no more than that,” Stewart said, speaking slowly and deliberately.“He has sheltered you for the sake of his child, but once it is gone, he will treat you like the offal that you are.”He spat.“Whore!”he reminded her.
Resistance rose in Leila but she had no chance to argue, for Stewart raised his fist and punched her in the belly.Leila took a step backward at the force of impact, then heard a whistling sound.She was amazed that Stewart had not hit her harder than he had, then she saw the blood, the knife in his throat and the wide stare of his eyes.He fell atop her, his weight taking her to the ground and his warm blood flowing over her.Leila screamed and heard Agnes’ palfrey gallop away.She was inundated by the filthy smell of Stewart, pinned beneath his weight and rapidly being covered with his blood.She panicked as she seldom did but could make no difference in her situation, which terrified her.
Until Stewart’s weight was abruptly hauled away, and Fergus lifted her in his arms.Leila fell against him and wept in relief, though his features might have been carved in stone.He was furious and she could feel the thrum of anger deep within him, but she did not have the audacity to ask him what precisely had provoked his response.
