His face was drawn with fear, and he was green with illness.
Logan made an inarticulate sound in his throat at the sight of him, even as John’s face lit at the sight of Dair.
“Mercy,” Duncan said, falling to his knees in front of Dair. “Don’t let her torture me anymore!”
Moire smacked Duncan across the ear. “Tell them.”
The man looked around wildly, clearly afraid. He clutched at Dair’s plaid, groveled. “I’m sorry, Alasdair Og. I’ve come to beg yer pardon, though I don’t deserve it. Old Moire gave me poison, swears I will die if I don’t speak. God help me, I was one of the men who ambushed yer father that night, along with—”
Logan came at the man, screaming as his fist connected with Duncan’s jaw, knocking him flat on his back. “Take him out. He killed the chief. He must die, now, at once! Cut his tongue out! Will someone not give me a dirk?” Logan bellowed, kicking at Duncan, who rolled into a ball to protect himself.
Dair nodded to Angus, who restrained Logan. “I think we’d better hear what Duncan has to say.”
Moire poked Duncan sharply in the ribs, and he whimpered and began to speak. “We were supposed to take Padraig, hold him captive until he—”
“Shut up!” Logan raged, thrashing vainly in Angus’s grip.
Moire stepped forward and made a sign over Logan. “Haud yer wheesht or I’ll do to you what I did to him,” she warned. Duncan cringed.
“What did she do?” Niall asked.
Duncan only groaned.
Moire looked at Dair. “He came to me because he’d been stabbed in the hand. He wouldn’t say who stabbed him, but he had this . . .” She pulled out a brooch and held it out to Dair.
Dair felt his mouth dry as he took it. “It’s Fia’s.”
“Aye,” Moire said. “He refused to say how he’d come to have it. I provided some . . .encouragementto help him remember.” Duncan moaned pitifully. “Tell Alasdair Og what you did, Duncan Murray, or I will dose you again.”
Duncan flinched and crossed himself. “Logan knew Fia MacLeod would run for home when she escaped. We caught her in the woods, her and her sister and English John. I had her, but she stabbed me. Logan caught her—”
“Shut up!” Logan screamed. “Liar! I’ve never seen this man before.”
Niall scratched his head. “Ye’ve known him all yer life, Logan. We all have. I thought the two of ye were friends. I’ve often seen ye together.”
Duncan sobbed. “It was all Logan’s idea. He said we’d be rich, that I’d be captain of the guard when he was chief.”
“Did you ambush my father?” Dair asked, his teeth gritted. “Did you kill your own kin?”
Duncan cringed. “Logan was supposed to ride in during the ambush, save the chief’s life, and in return, the chief would name him as his heir. No one was supposed to die, but Logan began killing men we knew, clansmen, neighbors, friends.” He pointed a shaking finger at Logan now. “It was you who stabbed the chief.”
A cry went up in the hall, and men rose, began to rush toward Logan.
“He’s lying! They were MacKays, sneak-thieves jealous of the Sinclairs!” Logan shouted.
“Have you proof?” Dair asked.
“I swear it’s true,” Duncan said. “Logan killed Lulach so he wouldn’t tell ye the truth, Dair. Lulach wasn’t part of it, but he saw us. I’m sorry now, but Logan said you were mad, evil . . . I only wanted to be captain of the guard.”
Angus shook Logan, still hanging in his grip. “Ye murdered the chief, and ye killed an innocent lass who did no harm to anyone. If there wasn’t a curse upon us before, there is now. The MacLeods will descend upon us like wolves for her sake. We’re dead men, and you brought that down upon us, Logan, not Dair.”
“But Fia’s not dead,” John said. Dair wondered if he’d heard the Englishman correctly over the din of raised voices. He held up a hand for silence, stared at John, and waited, holding his breath. “Three men caught us in the woods,” John said. “I saw Fia stab one of them—probably Duncan. I saw Logan grab hold of her plaid, but she undid the clasp, Dair. She left the plaid in his hand and rode away, free—Meggie too. I would have followed, but someone struck me, knocked me off my horse. I fell unconscious, and they left me for dead in the dark. I woke with a headache and a broken arm, and I went to Moire for help. I found Duncan there, having his hand stitched.” He met Dair’s eyes. “Fia’s not dead, I swear it.”
“But Logan killed her wee cat,” Ruari said, grabbing the pelt, shaking it at Logan.
John took it from him and frowned. “This isn’t cat fur—at least, not Beelzebub’s. His coat was as coarse as mail. This is soft. It’s rabbit, maybe, or stoat, but not cat.”
Dair felt the weight of the lies, the horror. His father was dead, six men with him, and Fia had suffered at Logan’s hand. He turned on his cousin with a roar and hit him hard in the mouth. Logan cried out as blood spurted.
