“It is working.” Mirrie exhaled with relief as one-by-one, the men in scarlet put down their weapons.
Tristan gestured to his father and the two spoke quietly for a moment.
Angus raised his voice so that it carried through the courtyard. “I bid you all come inside for refreshment whilst my son investigates this matter.”
Gaunt’s men did not like this. They looked uncertainly at one another, but Tristan glowered at his own men who reluctantly began to lead the way back inside the keep. The red-cloaked leader threw back his head and said something to Tristan, who nodded solemnly.
“They are going in.” Isabella breathed deeply to quell a wave of dizziness.
“Aye.” Mirrie gave her a small smile. “I shall go and offer my help in the kitchen.”
Isabella stood uncertainly on the terrace. Should she follow Mirrie?
She looked for Hamish and saw him walking toward Tristan. With an impatient gesture, Tristan beckoned for her to do the same.
Isabella averted her eyes from the body of Lord Gaunt as she descended the steps. Spray from the fountain covered her face, making her blink and shiver. She dried her cheeks with her sleeve and met the angry gaze of her brother.
“Who could have done this?”
She recoiled in surprise. “I have no idea.”
Tristan’s piercing eyes moved to Hamish and something cold and heavy slid inside her belly.
“What about you? Do you have any idea?”
Isabella wanted to see shock and innocence writ large over Hamish’s face, but the highlander’s expression was unreadable.
“I canna say.”
“Cannot, or will not?” For a terrible moment, Tristan looked about to reach for his sword. “You have the most to gain from his death.” He nodded curtly toward the lifeless figure behind them.
Hamish stayed stonily silent, and Isabella felt the ground shift beneath her feet.
Did he do this?
“Can you vouch for his whereabouts?” Tristan demanded of her.
“I don’t know what you mean.” She clutched at the neck of her robe, playing for time.
“Do not be coy, Isabella. I am under no illusions about the two of you. I ask again. Can you vouch for him?”
Isabella gasped for air. She wanted to move closer to the fountain, to lean against the solid stone basin, but Gaunt’s body was in the way.
“Hamish, tell me, please, you didn’t do this, did you?”
Hamish shook his head, but then he spoke and shattered what small reassurance he had provided. “I didna kill him, but perchance I should have done.”
“Did he leave your side last night?” Tristan’s voice came out in a growl.
“Yes.” She wanted to deny it, but could not lie outright to her brother. “I’m sorry, Hamish.” She put her hands to her face as she began to sob.
“Ye are only speaking the truth, lass.” His voice was gentle.
Tristan dragged a hand through his shock of hair. “I have men inside ready to mutiny over this. They will string you up, man, if they sense your guilt, just as I have.”
Hamish stood still and silent. Isabella wanted to fall to her knees and beg for him to deny this terrible charge, but that would draw even more attention from the men-at-arms looking down at them. Time slowed down and she knew what Tristan was about to say, even before he opened his mouth.
“You must leave,” he told Hamish. “Take your horse from the stables and ride far away from here. Now.”
