Claire Delacroix (33 page)

Brianna bridled at the way this priest referred to her father. “But my sire—”

“Was filled with the deadly sin of pride, my lady,” Father Padraig declared with rare savagery. “Why else did he not abandon this solar willingly? Why else did he creep into the chapel that was his no longer? A chapel consecrated to God belongs to Him alone and no other. The Lord saw Connor’s sinfulness and smote him for it!”

“ ’Twas not the Lord who killed my lord Connor,” Uther interjected coldly. He glared at Gavin. “He had a most earthly agent for this wicked deed.”

“The hand of the Lord works in wondrous ways,” Father Padraig intoned.

As Brianna stared at him, stunned by his harsh words, the priest marked the cross upon Connor’s forehead and began to whisper last rites.

Gavin began defending himself vehemently. “I did not kill him! Why would I do such a thing? I have already conquered him and claimed all that was his own!”

“Except the loyalty of those around you,” Uther snapped. “Do you think we are witless fools? Who else had any reason to see this man dead?”

“I care naught for your loyalty!” Gavin protested hotly. “I tell you I was attacked when I came into the solar. Someone flung soot from the brazier into my eyes and rushed past me. I believe they were two.”

“Did you see their faces?” Uther demanded, taking no trouble to hide his skepticism.

“They were masked,” Gavin acknowledged, with no less defiance.

“Indeed!” Uther and Ruarke scoffed in unison and Gavin’s ears reddened. He had just opened his mouth to argue anew when a familiar voice carried from below.

“I beg your pardon, I must get through!”

Brianna caught her breath at the low resonance of Luc’s voice. There was a rustling on the stairs and suddenly he erupted at the summit, his brow dark with concern.

“My lady, why did you scream?” he demanded, his words fading as he spied Connor’s fallen figure. Luc paled, then pushed through the crowd. “How did this happen? Who is responsible?”

Ruarke stepped into his path, his face dark with anger. “Do not sully this place with your presence!” he spat.

Luc straightened and his eyes narrowed. “I thought all were welcome in the house of God,” he said with a glance around the chapel.

“Not those with murdering blood in their veins!”

“What is this?”

Uther was more than ready to enlighten Luc. “Your sire has ruthlessly slaughtered my lord Connor.”

“I did no such thing!” Gavin protested. “I told you all that he was dead when I arrived here! I told you the truth!”

“Aye, the truth of masked men who assaulted you and cannot be found,” Uther snapped and Ruarke rolled his eyes. “A likely tale.”

“But that is impossible,” Luc argued firmly. “Gavin could only have arrived here moments past.” All turned to eye Luc, their expressions confused.

“Aye.” Gavin nodded. “I came directly here from the gates, in no mood for the company of others, thanks to your faithless brother.”

“But Connor has been dead longer than that.” Luc pushed past Ruarke and bent to touch Connor’s cheek. He glanced over his shoulder to the others. “Look upon him! His flesh draws chill already. His color is gone.”

“You merely defend your own blood!” Ruarke charged angrily.

“Gavin was outside the gates until but moments past,” Luc countered. “You must have all seen him enter the hall.” A murmur of assent rolled through the group. “And look! There is no blood upon Gavin’s tabard, despite the amount scattered here, yet he wears the same garb he has worn all this day. And look upon this place—it has been ruthlessly vandalized.”

Brianna glanced around the chapel and belatedly saw the evidence of its attack. The table was dropped to its side, the altar cloth torn, the candles scattered. The crucifix was ripped from the wall and, indeed, it looked as though someone had pried at the planks of the floor.

Luc stood once more, folded his arms across his chest, and met Ruarke’s gaze in challenge. “I cannot imagine how Gavin could have been responsible for all of this, remained clean, smeared the soot on his own face, and summoned you all in such short order after his return. Of course, I can judge
the timing only by Gavin’s return to the hall and the lady’s recent scream.”

Luc was right.

The household members began to chatter, agreement with Luc spreading quickly through their ranks. All the same, ’twas not a welcome revelation he brought. Aye, the one person she would have preferred to be guilty in this crime was one of two Brianna knew beyond doubt were innocent.

For Luc himself had only just returned to the keep.

Which meant every other achingly familiar face could be hiding a malice that had seen her own father slaughtered. The realization shook Brianna to the core and indeed, she began to tremble uncontrollably. She looked at her sire and wished he could somehow confide the truth to her, that this crime would not go unavenged.

But ’twas too late for that.

Brianna’s tears came to the fore once again. She was suddenly chilled to her very bones. Luc seemed to sense her dismay for he stepped forward. His brilliant blue gaze snared her attention as naught else could have done and Brianna let Luc lift her father from her arms. He lowered him gently to the floor, then closed his strong hands around Brianna’s own shoulders, urging her to her feet and toward the stairs.

’Twas good to have his strength to lean upon. Brianna was aware of naught but her heartache and the reassuring warmth of Luc’s grip.

“Fenella, take your mistress to the kitchens and have Cook conjure a large cup of mulled wine for her,” Luc instructed firmly. “Ensure that she drinks it and if it does not put her to sleep, then see that she has another.”

“Most sensible,” Uther concurred.

Luc’s expression turned doubly grim and his gaze bored
into the maid. “And whatever you do, do not let the lady out of your sight for one single moment this day and night.”

Fenella bobbed her head. “Aye, sir.”

“Taking us all in hand, are you?” Ruarke demanded mockingly. “Do you mean to force yourself into the lordship, despite the opinion of all around you?”

Luc coldly looked that knight up and down. “The Lordship of Tullymullagh is the last matter of import now.”

Ruarke smirked. “Your disregard is touching, though unlikely.”

Luc straightened and treated Ruarke to a glare. “When a lady has need of aid,” he declared coldly, “a man of any rank should forget himself and bend his knee to her favor.” The knight reddened at the chastisement and looked as though he might argue the point, but Brianna did not care.

“Luc is right,” she said simply. “I will go.” Brianna took Fenella’s hand and followed her maid to the stairs, halting at the summit to look back at Luc. His eyes were still a vigorous sapphire and he was watching her with a concern that melted some of the numbness enfolding her.

“What will you do?” she asked.

“I will seek out Brother Thomas before he returns to Endlist,” he declared with reassuring authority. “Do not fret, my lady. All shall be set in order. Your father shall be tended immediately and we shall set to finding the one responsible for this travesty.”

“Aye,” Uther confirmed and Brianna did not miss the considering glance the steward tossed toward Luc. The assembly murmured approvingly of Luc’s sentiment and looked at him expectantly.

“Uther, is there a room where we might talk to each member of the household?” Luc asked. “ ’Tis possible that someone witnessed something that may aid in solving this puzzle.”

“Of course!”

“We shall find the culprit,” Gavin declared. Ruarke snorted but Brianna did not care for his skepticism.

She held Luc’s gaze for as long as she could, taking strength from the steady blue of his regard. When Fenella tugged on her hand, Brianna turned reluctantly to leave. But she clutched one fist to her chest, as though she would hold a vestige of the warm concern in Luc’s eyes close to her heart for the rest of this day.

Ruarke began to argue with someone above, Father Padraig was having his say, and Uther was hotly defending something or other, but Brianna did not care. The assembly parted silently to let her pass, their eyes filled with sympathy, their whispers dying as she drew near. Brianna cared naught for that either.

Aye, Luc would see all set to rights. Brianna could trust him, and him alone, with her very life.

And that, she suddenly realized, was no small thing given the events of this day.

Luc trudged toward the village, trying desperately to solve the riddle of Connor’s death. He had left Uther to the task of clearing a chamber for their questioning and making a tally of all within the hall.

But too late, Luc wished he had asked Ismay what she knew of the Rose of Tullymullagh, what she knew that she was certain all else had forgotten.

What had Connor intended to confide in him?

Luc feared he would never know.

And he sensed that both tales might be critical to solving this crime. He had to find the culprit; he could not let the murder of Brianna’s father go unsolved.

For one who would murder once would murder again.

Luc did not permit himself to think of the risk that might
well confront his princess. He would ensure that she was not alone, he would ensure that she was not unprotected. And he would find the killer, before that individual could strike again.

Brother Thomas was at Matthew Miller’s home, just as Luc had hoped. A fair and gently rounded woman, Matthew’s wife, nodded at Luc’s request and ushered him into the kitchen. The room was warm, simply furnished but more than cozy.

And Brother Thomas sat at the board beside a younger, but slightly more careworn version of himself. The monk was in the act of running a piece of bread around his bowl, claiming the last drop of gravy from his midday meal. The smell of a fine rabbit stew was enough to make Luc’s own belly protest its emptiness.

Brother Thomas waved his crust of bread in salutation. “Good day to you, master Luc! Come from the keep for a measure of gossip?”

“Master Luc,” Matthew’s wife echoed, sending a panicked glance her spouse’s way. “Would you be the Luc, son of Gavin Fitzgerald?”

“The very one,” Brother Thomas crowed before Luc could reply. “He is the one who did not go!”

Matthew now looked as concerned as his wife, his gaze straying guiltily to the pot of rabbit stew.

’Twas clear the miller’s wife did not share the monk’s enthusiasm. She turned to Luc with stricken eyes. “Sir! You must believe that we did not poach the rabbit from the lord’s lands. We did not hunt without permission. The creature beset my cabbages.” She wrung her hands together. “If we were to eat this winter, we had to set a trap.”

Aye, the old laws granting only the lord the right to hunt upon the lands he held were the root of the woman’s anxiety. The penalties were severe, Luc well knew, and typical
of the nobles’ disregard for those who relied upon their generosity.

“I have not come to enforce my father’s claim to Tullymullagh’s game,” Luc interjected calmly.

The woman fairly melted in her relief. Then her brow puckered in confusion. “Why, then, have you come?”

Luc looked at Brother Thomas. “There has been a death at the keep. I come to ask your aid, once again.”

Brother Thomas swallowed his bread awkwardly and frowned in turn. “Who has died?”

“Connor.”

The trio gasped simultaneously, the miller rising to his feet. “ ’Tis sudden. I did not know my lord was ill. Adelina has skill with herbs, she would have come.”

Matthew’s wife nodded vigorously. “Anything for Connor of Tullymullagh. He is—” she swallowed and her sudden tears shone “—he
was
a good man.”

“Aye, he was,” Luc agreed. “ ’Tis why his murder is so grievous.”

Three pairs of eyes rounded in shock.

“Murder? But who did this deed?”

“We do not know.”

Brother Thomas pushed to his feet and stepped away from the board, his gaze startlingly bright. “I will come with you immediately. And I would hear all you know of this matter.”

They stepped out of the miller’s abode together, leaving confused silence behind them. Brother Thomas burped as they strode through the village and patted his belly. “ ’Tis soon after a meal for such a vigorous walk,” he muttered, then darted a glance to Luc. “You know more than you tell of this matter.”

“I have but suspicions,” Luc confirmed quietly. “Though you might be able to aid me in this.”

“Me?”

“Aye.” Luc flicked a glance to the monk and resolved to ask the question of greatest import first. There was not a moment to waste. “What do you know of the Rose of Tullymullagh?”

The monk’s gaze flew to meet Luc’s, alarm making his eyes wide. He swallowed visibly, then shook his head. “Not that.”

The monk knew something, Luc saw the truth immediately. Yet, he was reluctant to confide the tale. Luc lowered his voice and made his best appeal. “Thomas, there is a tale here, a tale that I suspect you recall, a tale that has much to do with Connor’s demise.”

Brother Thomas blew out his breath and scowled at the road as he walked. He was clearly considering something and his plump fingers worked together like animated sausages.