“My lady,” Phileas said, addressing his wife on his left side. “Mairi. Please let me present to you Miss Donaghey—” Ailsa curtsied. “Miss Vaila Donaghey, Miss Davina Donaghey, and Miss Eilidh Donaghey.” Each of the other sisters curtsied in turn.
“We are very pleased to see you, lasses,” Lady Buchanan said graciously. “Though, of course, we wish the circumstances were better.”
Mairi offered nothing more than a brief nod. Ewan frowned censoriously at his sister, who steadfastly refused to meet hiseye. This was not Mairi’s normal reaction to guests, but he would have to interrogate her later on this topic.
“Sit and eat,” Phileas instructed, waving toward a clear spot near the front of the room. “We shall be better poised to discuss matters once our stomachs are full.”
This was all well and good, Ewan thought as the sisters took their seats, except for how his appetite refused to materialize. Instead, he spent the meal taking bites only when Mairi gave him probing looks.
The rest of the time, his attention was on Ailsa.
Her back was to him, which revealed a little trio of freckles on the nape of her neck. They preoccupied him, those freckles. They winked in and out of view as she moved her head to eat and talk quietly with her sisters, her braid covering and uncovering the tiny dots of color.
His plate was scarcely touched when the staff began clearing away dishes.
When the clan began filtering out of the room, Phileas signaled that the immediate family should stay, as should the Donaghey sisters and James. In moments, everyone else was gone.
Somehow the room seemed smaller with only a few people separating him from Ailsa.
He forced himself to pay attention.
“Now,” Phileas said, folding his hands in front of him when they were all gathered around. “Tell me what happened.”
Ailsa cut a glance at her younger sisters. Ewan recognized the protective instinct of an older sibling in her gaze.
“This morning,” she explained quietly, the absent look in her eye suggesting that she was lost in memory, “I approached the dining hall, and I… smelled blood. I went in and my parents…” She raised her chin. Proud, as ever, was his Ailsa. “They were dead. It appeared to be poison.”
“Poison? I thought you said there was blood?” Mairi’s question was a bit sharp, and Ewan shot her a quelling glare, though he had the same question himself.
Ailsa flinched almost imperceptibly, then shot another glance at her sisters. The youngest one, Eilidh, was pale but steady in her chair.
“There was,” Ailsa said, voice steady. “The blood had come from their mouths.”
Mairi, to her credit, looked ashamed of herself for asking. And, indeed, it was a gruesome image.
Even so, Ewan was shocked when his father gasped and clutched at his chest.
“Father!” he cried.
“Da!” Mairi added.
As his family crowded around him, Phileas waved a hand to indicate he was well.
“I’m all right,” he said, sounding a bit breathless. “I’m fine. I’m just… shocked. I can scarcely believe it. Alasdair Donaghey. Dead.”
Ewan understood his father’s feelings; it could not be easy to lose a friend in so gruesome a manner, particularly after decades of association. But he had a more pressing question.
“Do we know who is responsible for this?” he demanded, directing the question to James.
His second stepped forward. “I examined the body of the soldier the lady’s dagger left behind. There were some indicators of his master. So, tell me, Misses Donaghey—does the name Finley Gordon mean anything to you?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Finlay Gordon.
Ailsa should have suspected.
The room was heavy with tension as her mind raced.
