CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Blake froze as Reyna’s words filled his ears, the accusation loud and clear and echoing in the air.
He poisoned the previous lairds, and he wants tae dae the same tae ye!
It was unbelievable. Hutch? His cousin, who had warned him to flee? Who had just lost his father, and invited him home? It couldn’t be Hutch. “Reyna, lass... I dinnae ken why ye think that, but…”
“I think it because I heard from someone else, that ‘twas Hutch who reported the deaths o’ both the previous lairds. I also heard that the healer didnae ken fer certain it was poison fer some time. Nae immediately, so when he came tae find ye and told ye about yer faither, the healer had nae pronounced herself yet.” Her voice was hard. She glared up at Hutch, undaunted by the difference in their sizes.
“What? That…” Hutch had come to him shortly after it had happened, after he’d been determined as the likely culprit. That was what he’d always thought.
And yet, the murmurs around him suggested that there was truth in Reyna’s words. He swallowed hard. “Hutch?”
His cousin raised an eyebrow. “I dinnae ken what yer lass is on about, but there’s nae truth in what she’s accusing me of. And frankly, I’m fair surprised and a wee bit offended that she’s saying such things, after daring tae come here and seek shelter from her jilted betrothed. It makes me wonder if he was half as bad as she’s been claiming, or if the trouble is more o’ the lass’s making than the laird’s.”
Blake bit his lip. “Ye ken that’s nae true. I told ye meself what sort o’ man Laird Murray is. And he was like that long afore Reyna came tae the clan.”
Hutch shrugged. “Aye, but ye told me he’s been obsessed with her. Mayhap he was bewitched, and ye’re ensnared as well.” He raised his hands and offered Blake a beseeching look. “Come on now, Cousin. Ye’ve kent me all yer life. Surely ye dinnae believe such o’ me.”
“She’s nae a witch, and dinnae call her such. As fer what she’s saying, I…” He looked at Reyna, pleading for any explanation that wouldn’t put him at odds with someone he loved. “I dinnae understand. Why would ye think that? Why would ye say it?”
“Because yer maither told me about it. And she told me she saw Hutch laughing afore his faither’s funeral.” Reyna’s face was pale. “She didnae want tae confront him without having a chance tae tell ye and convince ye o’ the truth, that’s why she asked me tae find ye.”
Hutch laughed, but there was an edge to it now. “That’s absurd. I’d never dae any such thing.” He shook his head. “I dinnae ken what me aunt thinks she saw, but she’s mistaken, and yer lass has either been taken in by her foolishness, or she’s a few tankards a shy o’ a feast in her own head.”
Blake felt his anger ignite. “Dinnae speak so o’ Reyna.”
“Aye, me laird. That’s nae way tae speak o’ a guest in yer home.” One of the older warriors – an Elder by the torc and circlet he wore - stepped forward. “Besides, whatever Lady Hannah thought she saw afore yer faither’s funeral, there’s nae denying the rest o’ it.”
Another Elder stepped forward, his expression stern, with no mirth lingering in his eyes now. “There’s truth tae what the lass said tae. Ye challenged yer cousin’s fortitude and honor as a Sinclair if he didnae drink out o’ the tankard. As the Laird o’ the clan, ‘tis yer duty tae uphold the image o’ the clan in such matters. Since the lass has offered the challenge tae ye, ‘tis yer place tae take it.”
The first man smiled tightly. “Aye, me laird. Dirty tankard or nae.” He stepped forward to take the cup from Reyna and hold it out. “Dinnae fuss so much, me laird. ‘Tis only a bit o’ dirt andupset women. We’ll get ye a clean tankard fer a proper toast in the hall after. And I’m sure Lady Hannah and the lady... will apologize tae ye properly fer the mistake.”
Hutch scoffed. “Is it the place o’ a laird tae face such baseless accusations, and have tae accept them?”
“’Tis the place o’ any in the clan. Honor applies tae all, from laird tae the youngest village child. Aye. And tae the laird most o’ all in many cases.”
Blake felt dizzy, the way he’d felt sometimes after a head injury. The world felt as if it was tilting away from him. “Hutch?”
Another Elder joined the rest in confronting Hutch. “Drink, me laird, or we’ll take this cup tae the healer, and have her tell us what’s in it, whether it’s mead or aught else, and she’ll be answering that question alongside ye afore the entire Council o’ Elders, nae just those gathered here.” The warrior’s voice was stern.
“Ye cannae…”
“We can.” The warrior frowned. “Dae ye nae understand Clan Law yet? Even a declared Laird can be removed if it’s fer the sake o’ the clan, or fer crimes against his kinfolk. Kin-killing is one such crime. And while we might hesitate if there was nae one tae claim the title after ye, the truth is that Blake Sinclair has the right o’ the son o’ a previous laird. He can take the mantle.”
“He ceded it tae me.”
The Elder shook his head. “It doesnae matter, Laird Sinclair, fer the same reason his claim didnae matter against yer faither’s when the laird afore him died.”
Blake swallowed, knowing he had a choice and could no longer avoid it. He could stand behind his cousin, or he could stand behind Reyna and his mother. He wanted to believe in his cousin, but Hutch’s determined insistence, and now his refusal, made all the instincts he’d honed as a warrior shout in warning.
He took a deep breath, and forced his whirling emotions back, the way he’d learned to do in his years of service to Oran Murray. He stepped forward and faced his cousin. “Reyna’s right, and so are the Elders. The accusation has been made. Prove yer innocence or admit yer guilt. Or... leave the clan, as I did, until the truth can be found one way or the other.”
He looked Hutch in the eyes. “I promise ye cousin, if ye must leave, I’ll keep ye informed, as ye did me. And as soon as the truth is kent, one way or another, I’ll tell ye.”
There was a long moment of silence. Then a soft, bitter smile twisted Hutch’s face. With a casual swipe of his hand, he knocked the tankard flying. “Ye’ll nae be banishing me. And I’ll nae be drinking out o’ that cursed cup.”
Blake felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. “Then... ye…”
