MacGregor took charge of organizing the attempt to put out the flames in the castle. But it was an exercise in futility. The wooden floors of the upper chambers and wooden roof had lit up like tinder. Only the smoking shell of the tower remained. Fortunately, as it was the middle of the day, the tower appeared to have been empty but for the king’s party, who’d barely escaped disaster.
The placement of the powder left no doubt as to the target. MacGregor was certain the sound had come from the chamber under the king’s.
Once Magnus had assured the king’s safety, his focus turned to one thing: who could have been responsible. It didn’t take him long to realize who was missing. A party of knights had ridden out right before the explosion; among them were Sutherland and Munro. But only one of them had familiarity with black powder.
He and MacGregor were standing in the courtyard, which—despite their efforts—was still mildly chaotic. In addition to the castle patrol, which had been increased, MacGregor had a team of men keeping watch on the tower shell to ensure the smoldering embers did not once again catch flame. Then, of course, there were the folks who couldn’t stay away.
“Where did they go?” Magnus asked about the scouting party.
“We had a report of brigands attacking a group of pilgrims making their way home from Iona just north of here. They went to investigate.” MacGregor’s mouth hardened. “Sutherland wasn’t supposed to go; he joined at the last minute.”
Magnus swore. “Get the horses. I don’t care how much of a head start he has, we’re going after him.”
MacGregor didn’t argue. Magnus went to inform the king, who for once was in agreement about Sutherland. The use of the black powder all but pointed to him.
Magnus closed the door to the king’s room behind him and nearly ran into Helen in the corridor. Though he was glad to see her—she’d gone off with MacAulay’s wife to help calm the fears of the clansmen who thought the explosion had been a sign of God’s wrath—he wished it wasn’t at this moment.
She looked up at him, eyes wide. “You’re wrong. My brother had nothing to do with this.”
Damn. “Listening at doors, Helen?”
“I was about to knock when I heard you. You weren’t exactly whispering.”
“I can’t talk about this right now.” He started to walk down the stairs, not surprised to hear footsteps behind him.
He walked faster, but she had no intention of letting him go.
“Wait!” She caught up with him, grabbing his arm as he stepped into the courtyard.
He could see MacGregor waiting for him with the horses near the gate. He turned impatiently. “We’ll speak when I return.”
“Kenneth didn’t do what you are thinking.”
He fought to control his temper, but he was damned tired of her family coming between them. “Then who did? You said it yourself: your brother had knowledge of black powder just like Gordon. It isn’t exactly common knowledge.”
Denial reverberated from every inch of her. “But why? Why would he do such a thing?”
“He wasn’t exactly eager to submit to the king.”
She pursed her mouth and shook her head adamantly. “Perhaps not initially, but my brothers have come to believe in the king as much as you do. Kenneth wouldn’t do something like this. He wouldn’t be so rash.”
“Hell, everything your brother does is rash. You saw how angry he was earlier.”
Her cheeks heated. “Atyou, not the king.”
“Are you sure about that? Perhaps this was his intent all along.”
“You’re not suggesting he had anything to do with the men in the forest or—”
Suddenly she stopped.
“What is it?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
But he’d caught something in her eyes: the flash of guilt. He took her arm and forced her to look at him. “Tell me.”
She bit her lip nervously, but he wasn’t going to let it distract him.
