A lump settled in Isabail’s belly. She had not meant to say as much as she had. Showing Daniel the hidden room in the tunnels was impossible. “Perhaps,” she said, knotting the bandage snugly. “But frankly, I’m more eager to explore the rest of this ruin. There must be other places to hide a necklace.”
“Surely,” he agreed. “But you’ve already risked your life. I cannot ask you to do so again. Give me a day to two to heal, and I’ll take up the search.”
“You have a guard at your door,” she reminded him. “And even if they cease to guard you, they will watch you closely. There are fewer eyes upon me.”
His gaze met hers. “Do not take offense, Isabail, but it’s obvious you harbor doubts as to whether MacCurran stole the necklace.”
He did not addand poisoned John, but Isabail heard the echo of those words anyway. Her face flushed. “It’s true. I have every reason to believe the man is a blackguard, but if you could have seen his face as he told the tale of the man in black, you might have doubts too.”
“You have a tender heart, Isabail. I think sometimes you see what you prefer to see.”
She sat back. “Are you not angry with me?”
Daniel adjusted his position against the wall, wincing as he moved one hip. “I will not lie. I am disappointed that you do not seem as eager as I am to claim justice for John,” he admitted.
Guilt was a sharp stab in her chest.
“But,” he added, “I have known you too long to believe you disloyal. I know you will demand justice if the proof of his crimes is irrefutable. That’s another reason to find the necklace.”
“And if we never find it?”
He offered her a faint smile. “Do you ask if I can then accept that MacCurran is innocent?”
She nodded.
He looked away. “Failing to discover the necklace is not the same as proving he did not steal it. Nay, I will not easily be shaken from my belief that MacCurran killed John.”
A fair and honest response. And exactly what she had expected of Daniel. “I will continue to search for the necklace”—she caught his worried frown—“with great care. You must focus on healing. Is there anything I can bring you to help speed your recovery?”
“Some willow bark tea would not go amiss,” he admitted. “Just be sure to make it yourself. I do not trust any made by a MacCurran.”
“Or Ana Bisset.”
He smiled. “Indeed.”
* * *
An irrefutable sign that his clan had been in hiding too long was the volume of complaints that were brought before Aiden when he held court. Small issues, all. Accusations of hoarding, cheating, and idleness. Petty bickering that at its root lay lack of purpose. Hiding in the hills, there were no lands to tend, no pigs to feed, no tools to repair. And whose fault was that? His. The only cure for what ailed his kin was regaining Dunstoras.
Aiden ruled on the last of the grievances and ended the court session with a demand for tolerance.
Then he left the broch in search of a task to soothe his turbulent thoughts.
The horses were kept in the outer enclosure. The old stable master had been one of the casualties of their escape from Dunstoras, so the animals were now loosely assigned to younger lads for care. To the amazement of all, Jamie had taken a leadership role since returning to the camp with Niall. When Aiden approached, he was teaching several other lads how to coax a stubborn horse into offering up its hoof to be cleaned.
Aiden picked up a curry brush and wove through the other horses and across the snow to where his stallion was staked. A bay with two white stockings and a white blaze, the destrier had been a gift from his father upon his majority. Well trained and strong of heart, the horse had quickly proven to be Aiden’s most valuable tool in battle. Aiden ran a hand over the stallion’s velvet-soft muzzle. The horse responded by pushing against his hand and giving an approving snort.
Using long, smooth strokes, he began to brush the beast.
“You’ve no need to do that, laird,” Jamie said, jogging to his side.
Aiden paused. The boy had matured a great deal in recent weeks, for which Niall deserved a great deal of credit. Aiden had left the boy in his brother’s care, hoping the two would fare well together, and it seemed it was the right decision.
“I value the service you provide to the horses,” he said to Jamie, “but a soldier must bond with his horse if he’s to demand great things of it in battle.” He resumed his brushstrokes. “For all he does for me, I owe this horse more than a brush or two.”
Jamie nodded. “My father is of a like mind.”
His father, Aiden’s cousin Wulf, had disappeared the night the necklace was stolen. The same night Jamie’s mother and younger brother had been poisoned. It was probably long past time the lad accepted that his father was gone, but Aiden didn’t have the heart to tell him so. The boy had lost too much already.
