"I know. I fear Harold guessed that Peter had summoned help. Harold had kept all routes to our kinsmen tightly watched so Peter sent for you. I am still not certain how Harold discovered what Peter had done."
"Have ye proof that Harold murdered Peter?"
Jolene sighed and slowly shook her head. “I fear not. There is no doubt in my mind, however. Harold wanted Drumwich and now he holds it. Peter was hale and hearty and now he is dead. He died screaming from the pain in his belly. Harold claims the fish was spoiled. Two others died as well."
"Ah. Tis possible."
"True. Such tragedies are not so very rare. Yet, ere that spoiled fish was buried, two of Harold's dogs ate some. They did not die, did not even grow a little ill. Of course, Harold does not know that I saw that. The dogs snatched some of the fish from Peter's plate when his sudden illness drew Harold's attention. I saw it because I had to push the dogs aside to reach Peter."
"Who died besides Peter?"
"The two men most loyal to Peter. The cook presented the fish as a special treat for the three men as it was their favorite dish. It was claimed that not enough fish was caught to prepare the dish for everyone. They were also served the last of the best wine. I believe that is where the poison was, or most of it, but I can find no trace of it. Not upon the ewer it was served from or the tankards it was poured into. I did not get hold of them fast enough and they were scrubbed clean."
"Did ye question the cook?” asked Liam.
"He has disappeared,” she replied.
Sigimor cursed and shook his head even as he hastily introduced his men. “Then I fear Harold will go unpunished. Ye have no proof of his guilt and I am nay in a position to help ye find any. It might be wise if ye find somewhere else to live now that Harold is the laird here."
"But, he isnotthe lord of Drumwich. Not yet. There is one small impediment left."
"What small impediment?"
"Peter's son."
"Legitimate?"
"Of course. Reynard is nearly three years of age now. His mother died at his birthing, I fear."
"If ye are sure that Harold killed your brother, ye had best get that wee lad out of his reach,” said Liam.
Sigimor noticed that Jolene only looked at Liam for a brief moment before fixing her gaze upon him again. Liam might not be at his best, being dirty and a little bruised, but Sigimor was surprised that the little English lady seemed to note Liam's highly praised beauty, accept it, and then dismiss it. That rarely happened and Sigimor found himself intrigued.
"I have hidden Reynard away,” she said.
"And Harold hasnae tried to pull that truth from ye?” Sigimor asked.
"Nay. I am very certain he would like to try, but I have hidden myself away as well. Harold does not know all the secrets of Drumwich."
"Clever lass, but that can only work for a wee while, aye? Liam is right. Ye need to get yourself and the bairn away from here."
Jolene stared at the big man Peter had hoped could save them. That the Highlander would honor an old debt enough to ride into England itself was a strong indication that he was a man of honor, one who could be trusted to hold to his word. It was certainly promising that not one of the men had yet asked anything of her despite their own dire circumstances, but were quick to tell her to get herself and Peter's son and heir out of Harold's deadly reach. They were also big, strong men who, if set free, would certainly hie themselves right back to the Highlands. Harold would not find it easy to follow them there.
It did trouble her a little that she could not seem to stop looking at the big man named Sigimor. Most women would be breathlessly intrigued by the one called Liam. Despite the dirt and bruises, she had easily recognized Liam's beauty, a manly beauty actually enhanced by the flickering light of the torches set into the walls. Yet, she had looked, accepted the allure of the man, and immediately turned her gaze back to Sigimor. At three and twenty she felt she should be well past the age to suffer some foolish infatuation for a man, but she feared that might well be what ailed her now. The fact that she could not see the man all that clearly made her fascination with him all the stranger.
She inwardly shook herself. There was only one thing she should be thinking about and that was the need to get Reynard to safety. For three days and nights she had heard Harold ranting as he had Drumwich searched and its people questioned. Last night Harold's interrogations had turned brutal, filling the halls with the piercing cries of those he tortured. Soon one of the very few who knew the secrets of Drumwich would break and tell Harold how to find her and Reynard. Pain could loosen the tongue of even the most loyal. It was imperative that she take the boy far away and, since she had no way to reach any of the rest of her family, these men were her only hope.
"Aye, I must get myself and the boy away from here, far away, to a place where Harold will find it dangerously difficult to hunt us down, if not impossible,” she said and could tell by the way Sigimor stared at her that he was beginning to understand why she was there.
Sigimor's whole body tensed, hope surging through him. She said she was in hiding, yet she stood there within plain sight apparently unconcerned about being discovered. There was also something in the way she spoke of taking the boy to a place far away, a place Harold would have great difficulty getting to, combined with the intent way she was staring at him, that made Sigimor almost certain she intended to enlist his aid. He noticed that his companions had all grown as tense as he was, their gazes fixed firmly upon Lady Jolene. He was not the only one whose hopes had suddenly been raised.
"There are nay many places in England where ye could go that Harold couldnae follow,” Sigimor said.
"Nay, there are very few indeed. None, in truth. Trying to reach my kinsmen has already cost one man his life. That route is closed to me, as it was to Peter, so I must needs find another."
"Lass, it isnae kind to tease a mon chained to a wall and awaiting a hanging.” He caught his breath when she grinned for it added a beauty to her faintly triangular face that was dangerously alluring.
"Mayhap I was but trying to get you to make an offer ere I was forced to make a request. If you offer what I seek, I can ponder it, quickly, and accept, telling myself all manner of comforting reasons for doing so. If I must ask, then I am openly accepting defeat, bluntly admitting that I cannot do this alone. Tis a bitter draught to swallow."
