Page 75 of Warrior’s Lady

"Nay," Orrin replied, knowing it was a lie. He might be willing to sacrifice the Charm Stone, but he would never hand that child over to the bishop. As soon as he returned to the castle, he would persuade Camden to send Lady Violet far away, out of the bishop's reach before the man realized he needed her. "And now that you possess the Stone, you will leave the child alone."

"I swear it," the bishop said distractedly.

Silence filled the chamber and Orrin could practically hear the mental cogs turning in the bishop's head as he gazed upon the Stone, as though possessed by a force outside himself.

"I'll hold you to your promise," Orrin vowed as he left the chamber. He had to return to Lee Castle, and confess to Camden what he had done and why. Even though his motives were pure, the knot in his chest still felt a lot like betrayal.

The bishop wasted no time in using the Stone to prepare a cup of water for his mother. The sooner she got better, the sooner he could spread the word of a miracle.

Should he call all the servants to him? Miracles needed an audience for believability. The Bishop tucked the Charm Stone inside the folds of his robes and hurried to his mother's chamber. At the door he hesitated. What if the Stone's magic did not work?

Perhaps it was best to administer the miracle without a crowd. His mother's maid would be with him. That would be enough for now. And when it did work, he could cure anyone of whatever ailed them. At the thought, he laughed, bringing the maid's attention to the door.

He was invincible.

Open boils now dotted his mother's face, arms, and body. The Stone had better work, and quickly.

He moved to the bedside. "Allow me to sit beside her," he asked the young maid at his mother's bedside.

The girl staggered away from the bedside and the bishop noted for the first time that she had grown pale and her eyes appeared glassy. Perhaps he had best prepare a mug of tonic for her after his mother was healed.

He teased the liquid between his mother's lips. Unsettling thoughts tugged at his mind. The use of the Stone was so simple. He dipped the amulet into the liquid three times, then swirled it to the right. No magic words, no incantations. No witchcraft. The unwelcome thought took root in his brain and refused to go away.

Lady Clara Lockhart had done nothing to deserve the end he had given her. Her daughter would have fallen into the same trap once the Church council arrived. Except he'd made a promise to Lockhart's man Orrin to retract his charge of witchcraft and let the young girl go free. He'd made that promise, but it was one he had no intention of keeping.

The bishop scowled down at his mother's withered body. How long ago was it now that Robert the Bruce had knighted Sir Simon Lockhart for his loyal service while he himself was granted nothing for his service? Fifty years, maybe more?

The slight had eaten at his soul for years as he'd had to endure his mother's censure. Only by advancing within the Church had she found him worthy of her attentions once again.

Yet for him the bitterness remained. Until he'd joined forces with Malcolm Ruthven. A man who had just as much hatred for the Lockharts. Together, they had nearly brought that entire family to its knees.

Only Lord Camden Lockhart and Lady Violet remained. The bishop clasped the Charm Stone in his palm, allowing the cool metal of the coin to warm in his hand. The Stone was his, along with its miraculous powers.

Warmth flowed from the bishop's hand up his arm and throughout the rest of his body. He swayed slightly in the chair beside his mother's bed. He gripped the bedding to steady himself, then tucked the Stone safely away in the folds of his robe. Revenge was a powerful elixir, draining him of strength at his moment of triumph.

Everything was in place for the Church council to finish what he had set in motion. Soon Lord Camden Lockhart and Lady Violet would pay for the slight Berwick had received at the hand of the king. Another wave of exhaustion suddenly over took him. Beads of moisture formed at his temples and the room swayed before his eyes.

He grasped the doorjamb, steadying himself. He needed to rest. He took a hesitant step toward a chair when the room whirled, blurred before his eyes. He swayed, then hurtled into a dark abyss.

"Violet, where's Orrin?" Camden asked when he found his niece in her chamber, playing happily alongside one of the servant's children. A maid sat quietly in the corner of the room, sewing as she kept an eye on the two girls.

"Look, Uncle Camden, Mistress Faulkner made me a doll," Violet said with animation as she held up a wooden figure dressed in muslin and lace.

"That's very nice," he said distractedly. "Orrin didn't come to get you?"

His niece paused in making the doll dance. The joy in her eyes dimmed. "Why would he come to get me? Is something wrong?"

Camden forced a smile. "Nothing to worry about. We were merely checking up on you. I can see that you are enjoying time with your new friend."

He waited until she returned to her play before he motioned for the maid to draw near. She set her needle aside and came forward. Camden held up his hand, halting her progress, before she reached the door. In a low voice he said, "Keep the girls in this room."

Her eyes widened, but she nodded. "As you wish, milord."

His frown deepened at her words. Nothing in his life was presently "as he wished." Suddenly the nursery was too warm, the laughter of the girls too loud, and the walls a little too close.

Needing escape, he left the chamber and headed out of the keep. He had to find Orrin and the Stone.

An hour later Orrin slammed the door to the great hall behind him. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he leaned back against the door. Dear God in heaven, he hoped he had done the right thing.