“Her widow’s portion—”
“Will be mine when I weary of her, less what has been promised to ye in the marriage contract. If her uncle had e’er discovered the truth, ye would have been left with naught. Nay, not e’en your lives. Ye cannae believe I would give ye all of it just because ye are giving me Cecily, can ye? Aye, she will keep me entertained for a few months, and I may keep her long enough to gain an heir, but I am nay besotted with the wench. This marriage is to fill my pockets. Be glad I am willing to share the bounty.”
“Weel, if ye dinnae do something about Angus’s mon and quickly, all we will be sharing is the gallows!”
Artan was fighting the urge to charge into the room and break a few bones when a work-worn hand suddenly grabbed him by the wrist. He glanced to his side to see a grim Old Meg there. She was definitely skilled at stealth, he decided. Yet again he had not heard or even sensed her approach. He gave her a curt nod of greeting and returned to listening to the three people he now saw as his enemies.
“He will be dealt with. Ye might try harder to keep him away from Cecily. He stays too close to her, and my men feel certain they were embracing that day at the burn. ’Tis why they didnae recognize her. Thought she was just some maid or village wench.”
“Ye are her betrothed. Mayhap ye ought to be trying to keep a tighter rein on her. So far all ye seem to be able to do is cower in your boots whene’er that Highlander comes near to ye.”
“I havenae seen either of ye standing firm against him,” snapped Sir Fergus.
“I have nay wish to anger a mon who ne’er has less than three weapons on him,” drawled Sir Edmund. “And considering he not only defeated six of your men but didnae e’en get bruised in doing so, I see only wisdom in treading warily about the mon.”
“He willnae hurt a woman.”
“Aye, I think ye may have the right of it, Fergus. So, m’dear wife, ye shall have to be a better shepherd to our little lamb until she is penned and sheared.”
“As ye wish,” said Anabel, the tone of her voice far from that of a truly submissive wife.
“Good,” said Sir Fergus. “Now, I mean to go and plan another attack upon that barbarian.”
“Let us hope ye are a little more successful than ye have been so far,” said Sir Edmund.
Artan felt Old Meg tug on his wrist. He allowed her to lead him away from the door and they slipped into a room that adjoined the solar. As she went to the fireplace and yanked on a torch holder, Artan fought to calm the fury roiling inside of him. A small passageway was revealed as a well-hidden door opened and he followed her into it. Artan fought the urge to shiver when the door closed behind them. He had always loathed small, dark places. The candle he now held did not do much to light their way.
“We can continue to listen from here,” Old Meg said, standing on her toes to whisper in his ear.
It took Artan a moment to realize Old Meg was peering through a very small crack in the thick stone wall. Even as he stepped up beside her, he snuffed the candle, not wanting to risk any chance that Edmund or Anabel would notice the light through the crack. He knew he had heard enough of their secrets to justify anything he did to free Cecily from their grasp, but there was always the chance they would give him even more.
“I dinnae trust him,” said Anabel. “I think he means to betray or cheat us in the end.”
“He may try,” replied Sir Edmund, sounding utterly bored. “Of course, if ye hadnae spread your legs for him, he would ne’er have gotten into your bedchamber and found those papers.”
“So condemning ye sound, ye who ruts with anything in a petticoat.”
“But who ne’er leaves important secrets where any fool can find them.”
“Gloat if it makes ye feel better. It was an error in judgment. Most of what he holds o’er us was naught but conjecture, and ye did as poorly as I in defending yourself against that. Can we now turn our minds to what must be done about that kilted brute? He is trying to woo Cecily into leaving with him for Glascreag, ye ken.”
“Then ye had best make your disapproval of the mon verra clear to Cecily. Ye have kept the girl cowed for years, done verra weel in making sure she ne’er asks questions and seeks to please ye in all things, so I ken ye can twist her to your way now. Keep yourself at her side. Mayhap cutting the mon away from our wee prize will be enough. Ye have made her hungry for approval. Let her see that having anything to do with that mon will surely lose any she might gain from her marriage.”
“I could always lock her in her bedchamber.”
“’Twould give rise to too many questions. So would a sound beating if that was your second choice. If ye wish to continue to live as weel as ye have for the last twelve years, keep the lass close so that Highlander cannae talk to her alone and weaken her allegiance to us.”
“That will make for a verra long eleven days.”
“Think of the noose awaiting each of us should ye fail. That should provide inspiration.”
Artan held himself very still until he was sure Sir Edmund and Lady Anabel were gone. This time he did the leading. Careful not to be seen with Old Meg, he took her to his bedchamber. He poured them each a goblet of wine and spent several minutes going over all he just heard as he drank.
“They mean to kill the lass,” said Old Meg after several moments of tense silence.
“Aye, and I believe they killed her father and brother, although that would be hard to prove after so many years,” said Artan. “Did ye arrive in time to hear Sir Fergus say that at least he didnae have blood on his hands?” Old Meg nodded, her fury clear to see in her eyes. “Then there was Sir Edmund’s remark about living as weel as they have for twelve years.”
“But Cecily could have died in that attack.”
