10
Agnes was notone to miss an opportunity.
She knew that time was of the essence.
Fergus’ whore was clearly determined to earn the goodwill of those at Killairic and to do so with haste.It was astonishing to Agnes that the infidel had made so much progress in only one day—by the end of their handfast, it might not be possible to be rid of her.
Already, it was becoming impossible to avoid the sound of some fool singing the praises of Lady Leila.Laird Fergus was the worst of them all—he looked to be besotted with her since his return the night before, his gaze trailing after her every step.The old laird scarce showed less esteem.Agnes could not make sense of their acceptance of a woman with such dark skin.From the sounds that had carried from the solar the night before, Laird Fergus showed great enthusiasm for the task of fathering a son.
Agnes knew she could see to her laird’s pleasure better than any infidel whore.A notion had occurred to her and had steadily grown in appeal.What if Agnes were to replace the whore in the young laird’s affections?What if she were to bear the son who would inherit Killairic?The old man already liked her, and she made every effort to feed his affection.When she had a moment to spare from the witch’s commands, she saw to his comfort.She knew what he liked.A sweet from the kitchens in the afternoon.A warm cup of goat milk in the evening.A little assistance on the stairs and a flirtatious comment about his vigor.Agnes knew it all.
She also knew that the whore did not remove the lace from her neck with the keys.This was vexing and gave Agnes a challenge.What had they secured in the treasury?Could she use knowledge of it to be rid of the whore?Agnes had to oust the whore soon if it was to be done and she was convinced that the item in Duncan’s saddlebag would assist in that quest.
It could be stolen and the whore blamed.
On the day after his return from Dunnisbrae, Laird Fergus had a second set of keys made.He might have heard Agnes’ wish and she had to hide her delight at the tidings.When he climbed the stairs to give the newly made set to his father, Agnes’ plan was made.
Only two sets of keys, and no one would blame the old laird for the loss of any item from his own treasury.
Agnes waited until midday meal had been served, and the whore had assisted the old laird with his stew.She waited until Laird Fergus and his whore rode out, waited until she could hear the hoofbeats no longer, then waited some more.
She tapped on the door to the old laird’s chamber, though it was standing open.He was dozing and the keys gleamed on the lace around his neck.She was tempted but waited for the right moment.
“Agnes!”he said, pushing himself up to a more seated position.
“I thought your knees might be troubling you, my lord,” she said demurely.“It is oft so after the rain.”
“And so it is on this day.It is kind of you to ask, Agnes.”
“Let me rub some of the liniment into them, my lord.It always gives you relief.”
“Thank you, Agnes!”
“Would you like a cup of warm milk as well?It seems a day to linger abed, especially after such a late night.”
“Indeed, indeed.You are thoughtful, Agnes.”He smiled at her and she bowed, hastening down the stairs to gather liniment and milk.Her palms were damp for she stood on the threshold of opportunity but she dared not give herself away.
She wished she had a bit of valerian to put in the milk, but there was no midwife in Killairic any longer.The hut of the former one had been left untouched after her death, but Agnes could not have identified the right herb by herself.She knew better than to guess.The old midwife would not have granted it to her, either for she had distrusted Agnes.
When Agnes had delivered a son to Fergus, the villagers would know better than to disdain her.
She returned to the old laird with the liniment and the milk.He thanked her effusively.She helped him to his chair, positioned in the sunlight by the window, and tucked pelts around him.Then she knelt before him and rubbed his favored liniment into his knees, striving to appear fascinated as he recounted the same stories that he had told her a hundred times.She exclaimed in all the right places and encouraged him, watching as he sipped the warm milk.
“Surely, you did not need to abandon the solar, my lord,” she said.“I am certain Laird Fergus would wish for you to be comfortable.”
“I like the view here, Agnes, and this room is more cozy.The wind is diminished here.”He leaned back his head and yawned mightily.She saw the cord around his neck and looked down as if disinterested.“Stir up the coals on the brazier, if you please, Agnes.”
“Of course, my lord.Would you like more milk?”
“Nay, but I thank you.”He yawned, doubtless because the room was so warm, then waved her away.“Leave me sleep, Agnes, but do not let me miss the evening meal.Tell Iain that I must be awakened when Fergus and Leila return, for I would hear of their day.”
“Of course, my lord,” Agnes agreed, but his lids were already drooping.She waited, watching and listening, still rubbing his knees but with diminishing force.The old laird slipped into a deep sleep, his head drooping and his hands slack.Agnes waited a little longer, scarcely daring to breathe.
She heard Xavier and Iain arguing in the kitchens.She knew the Templars played chess in the hall.No one came up the stairs.The sounds of the village seemed remote.
Laird Calum began to snore.
Agnes held her breath as she stood.She waited, then stepped closer to his shoulder.She reached and slowly lifted the knot on the cord away from his skin.She did not even dare to breathe.He murmured to himself in his sleep and she froze, waiting until his snoring began again.
