“Aye. Ye’re certainly skilled enough to best almost any man here—fair or foul.” Logen didn’t dare look away from the arms master. If Darach decided to challenge him here, he would quickly be fighting for his life.
Darach reared back. “What are ye accusing me of?” His angry tone left no doubt Logen was in for a fight if he persisted.
Logen noticed movement over Darach’s shoulder, near the keep’s wall. Coira! She stared at him, her expression wide-eyed, pleading. How long had she been trying to get him to notice her without attracting the attention of others to herself? When their gazes met, she shook her head. What did that mean?Don’t provoke him? Then she took a step back and smiled, still turning her head slowly from side to side. Ach, no’ this man, then.
“Naught, Darach. I would like yer assessment of the men left in the clan. Who might be capable of the killings? Who remains so ambitious for the lairdship? Ye ken all the men better than I yet do. Advise me, if ye will.”
Darach’s demeanor changed instantly, from affronted and angry to thoughtful. As his stance relaxed, Logen breathed a sigh of relief. Over Darach’s shoulder, he saw Coira nod and walk away.
One suspect eliminated, then. How many more to go?
****
Coira moved away slowly, concerned that Logen would take her assistance moments ago as a sign she’d changed her mind about continuing to search for the conspirators despite the pain it caused her. Yet, she felt flush with relief. Logen had understood her signal. The arms master was not one of the men he needed to fear, and the man could be a powerful ally if Logen handled him properly. His confusion at Logen’s questioning had been genuine. So had the mounting storm clouds of his irritation when he thought Logen suspected him of being behind the murders in the clan. When Logen requested his aid, the soft rain of his relief and pleasure allowed Coira to draw a breath. Aye, with her help, the laird had gained an ally.
She reached the gate to the walled garden and fumbled with the latch. Stuck again. She could hear clanging from the smithy—the blacksmith was hard at work and would not be pleased to be interrupted. But an errand for the healer had led to her being in the bailey in the first place, on her way to the walled garden. If she didn’t collect the leaves the healer wanted and return very soon, the healer would come looking for her. She didn’t want to fail, or to anger one of her few allies. She needed to open this gate and the damn latch would not release. She gave it a final tug, then pushed at the gate with her shoulder, hoping to reseat it. No luck. She was still struggling when Logen caught up with her.
“Coira, ye are certain about him?”
“Ye didna run to catch me, I hope?”
“Nay, we didna talk that long. But he gave me a name, Alasdair. A man he has come to suspect, though he lacks proof.”
Coira shrugged and hoped she wasn’t about to do something she should not, and commit herself to Logen’s search. “I dinna ken him, but if someone points him out, perhaps I can—”
“Aye,” Logen interrupted.
Coira realized she could hear and sense someone approaching.
“Let me help ye with this latch.”
Logen’s tone sounded so impersonally polite she nearly laughed. Instead, Coira breathed a sigh of relief at the reprieve. Why did she keep offering Logen help after she’d told him she could not bear to do it?
The person passed behind them as Logen worked the latch, then lifted the gate a fraction by the handle, and unlocked it easily. “The problem isna the latch,” he told her more loudly than necessary. “The top hinge needs to be reseated in the wall.”
“The smith willna be pleased to hear that.”
“Nay, but he will fix it. I’ll tell him about it on my way back to the keep. Do ye think ye can close it by yerself?”
The person had surely passed out of earshot, but Coira kept up the masque, in case they had paused to eavesdrop. “Aye, I think so. If not, I’ll get help. I ken fine what will happen if anyone leaves it open. The healer’s and the cook’s plants will be fodder for coneys and such. The whole clan will suffer.”
“Good lass.” Logen lowered his voice. “Have a care. If Darach is correct, this Alasdair is verra dangerous.”
Coira frowned.
“I’m glad ye changed yer mind, Coira. I need ye to help me.”
“I ken it, Logen, I do. But I havena changed my mind. No’ really.”
Only one man. If he was indeed the man, or one of the men, Logen sought, couldn’t she try? She sighed. “He willna ken I am there.”
Logen nodded. “And ye’re sure about Darach?”
“He doesna hate ye. Ye confused him, then momentarily insulted him when he thought ye accused him, but his relief and pleasure when ye asked his advice were genuine.” She thought back a moment. “Something concerned him, but what, I canna say.”
He pulled open the gate and ushered her through, his warm hand heating her skin through the wool on her back. “A topic for another day, then. Thank ye, Coira. I couldha made an enemy of him had ye no’ given me a sign.”
She felt a chill when his hand lifted from her back and he turned to go. A deep wave of sadness rolled against her, stilling her breath for a moment as she tried to absorb it. He kept something locked away, amid the pain and horror of his memories of Flodden. An anguish so deep, she wondered if he realized it was there.
