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There was very little in the room besides a small bed and a chest, just enough to allow Donnell to have a brief moment with some maid, she thought with a grimace as she tiptoed up to the wall between the two rooms. Donnell had had it built shortly after he had arrived to rule over Dunncraig, thinking he would be hiring a man to keep his records for him. He had quickly decided that he would do it all himself and she knew it was not because he liked the work or felt he could do it better than anyone else. He simply did not want anyone seeing his ledger books.

  Donnell probably did not trust his own mother, she thought as she pressed her ear against a small knothole in the wood of the wall between the rooms. The door between the rooms was thin and worked just as well, but after nearly being caught because it had creaked softly as she had leaned against it, she had searched out a new spy hole. She never again wanted to suffer the fear she had felt then. For days afterward she had been terrified that Donnell had guessed it was she trying to listen to him speak to the sheriff, and it had been weeks before she had finally believed that she had been so lucky as to avoid detection.

  Annora rolled her eyes in disgust as the first thing she heard was a loud belch. She was certain it was Donnell, for the man ate far too much food and ate it so quickly, she was not surprised that his belly protested. There were times when she watched him eat and wondered how he kept from popping open like an overripe berry.

  “I dinnae see why we had to scurry into this room,” complained Egan.

  “I didnae want to chance Annora hearing what we had to say,” replied Donnell.

  “She needs to be told soon. That cursed Frenchmen is sniffing round her skirts far too often for my taste. And he turns down all the maids.”

  “Mayhap he is a monk in disguise,” drawled Donnell and chuckled at his own humor.

  “Laugh if ye will, but I begin to think there is something nay right with the mon.”

  “Why? Because he doesnae rut himself blind with all the maids? Some men dinnae, ye ken. Odd as it seems. I have kenned a few in my time. Too choosy, I am thinking.”

  “Weel, if he thinks to choose Annora, he had best think again. She is mine.”

  “So ye have told me from the first day she came here,” drawled Donnell.

  There was a chill in Donnell’s voice that told Annora her cousin felt Egan was pushing too hard. Donnell did not like to be pushed.

  “I ken it and I ken I wanted her to choose me. I meant to woo her but she makes it near to impossible. So now she will wed me whether she wishes to or nay. I am certain I can change her mind. The lass just needs a few good ruttings to see the advantage of having a mon in her bed.”

  The food that had sat like a heavy rock in her stomach now began to churn. Annora did not want to even think about Egan climbing into her bed, and worse, climbing onto her. Rutting was a good word for it, she supposed. Annora had no intention of allowing him to vent his desires on her. She certainly did not wish to become the wife and chattel of a man as brutal as Egan. In a few of the homes she had been taken into she had seen how that sort of life could slowly destroy a woman.

  “And that mon must be ye, of course,” said Donnell.

  “I think I have been verra patient.”

  “Aye, on that we agree. Verra patient until the wood-carver had to knock ye on your arse.”

  The amusement in Donnell’s voice was clear to hear even through the wall. Annora winced, knowing how that would anger Egan. Not only did being defeated by a man Egan probably thought of as far beneath him infuriate him, but having Donnell constantly rub his face in that defeat could soon put Egan in a killing rage—one aimed directly at Rolf. Annora had to fight the urge to rush off and warn Rolf of the danger he was in. It was selfish, but she needed to stay and try to find out what sort of danger she was in first. Once she had heard all she could, however, she would hunt down Master Lavengeance and tell him about the storm that was brewing over his head. She smothered the little sneering voice in her head that said she would be looking for him for another kiss as much as she would be trying to warn him.

  “So when will I be allowed to marry Annora?” asked Egan.

  “Soon.”

  “That is what ye always say. Aye, I was willing to wait. As I have always said, I wanted her to be willing. Now I dinnae care; I will make her so.”

  “As ye wish. It would be far more peaceful if she was willing, but, as ye say, she seems slow to favor ye o’er being a spinster. Twill work for me as weel, for she will have to stay at Dunncraig once she is your wife.”

  “Ye will expect Annora to act as nurse to that child e’en after we are wed and she is my wife?”

  “Why shouldnae she continue to care for Margaret?”

  “She will be my wife, nay some servant. It may nay look good if my wife is working as a nursemaid.”

  Donnell made a very rude noise. “Being the nurse to the child of a laird is nay a poor position for any woman to hold, and weel ye ken it. If ye mean to deprive me of a good nurse for Margaret, then mayhap we should rethink this marriage ye are whining for.”

  “Nay, nay,” Egan said hurriedly. “Ye are right. Many a lady born and bred, when widowed or left a spinster, has been the nursemaid to the children of a kinsmon. It will be fine.”

  “Glad ye feel inclined to see reason.”

  “Shall we now discuss when this marriage shall take place?”

  “Soon.”

  “Soon isnae a date, Donnell.”

  “I ken it but there are a few things I must need sort through ere I wed my wee cousin to ye. A few weeks, nay more, but there is nay much sense in planning something until we can agree on an exact date. And I want all the proper steps taken. I willnae have it said that I did wrong by her whilst she was in my care.”

  That was all Annora could bear to listen to. She managed to keep her thoughts clear enough to slip away with caution and quiet until she was in the hallway, and then she began to move faster and with less thought as to the amount of noise she was making. By the time she had reached the top of the stairs she was running. All she could think of was that she needed someone to help her, and the only someone she could think of was Rolf.

  She was nearly blind with a panic she could not control when she reached the battered door to his little room. Without even thinking to knock she opened his door and stumbled into his room. A small part of her mind wondered why his door was unlocked, but she paid it no heed. Instead she glanced around the small room to find him and nearly stopped breathing when she did.

  Master Lavengeance was naked, completely and beautifully naked. Annora slowly looked him over, admiring every taut muscle and lean limb. She had caught a few glimpses at naked men, as privacy was hard to maintain at a keep, but she had never seen a man as beautiful as Master Lavengeance. He stood there gaping at her in stunned surprise, an expression she suspected she shared. Annora took full advantage of that and looked her fill of his manly form.

  Broad shoulders still gleamed slightly with the damp from the bath he had obviously just taken. His chest was broad and neatly muscled with only a faint V of hair. Slowly she let her gaze slip down his tall, lean form. His stomach was taut and lightly rippled with muscle. Feeling suddenly shy, she blinked to avoid looking at his groin as she looked at his long, well-shaped legs. The sight of him was making her feel very warm.

  Then suddenly shock and a growing arousal began to fade into confusion. It took Annora a moment to realize what was puzzling her. Master Lavengeance had long, strong legs lightly coated with hair. Red hair. Her eyes widening as the meaning of that penetrated her mind, Annora forgot her shyness and looked straight at his groin. He was very impressive there as well, proud and erect. The size of him might have startled, even alarmed her, but she was too stunned by the thick curls that manhood rose out of. Those curls were red. Men with dark brown hair should not have red curls anywhere; Annora was sure of it.

  Master Lavengeance was not the man he claimed to be.

  Chapter Eight

  “Who are ye?”
Annora asked, not surprised to hear that her voice sounded weakened and hoarse from the shock she still felt.

  She suddenly decided that she would not wait for an answer. He had lied to everyone, but what hurt the most was that he had lied to her. Annora turned to leave, but never got the chance to even reach for the door before it was slammed shut and securely latched. She stared wide-eyed at this man she no longer felt she knew and suddenly wondered if she was in real danger. Her gift had never failed her before, but she found herself doubting its accuracy now. The naked man holding her in his room certainly looked dangerous.

  James saw the fear in her eyes and cursed. The very last thing he wished was to frighten Annora; he felt she had enough to fear in her life as it was. Nevertheless, he could not let her run away.

  He grabbed her by the arm and led her over to his bed. Keeping his gaze fixed on her the whole time, he yanked on his braies. His secret was out and he was not yet sure he could trust Annora to keep it. He wanted to, his heart told him that he could, but this was a matter of life and death and he had to be cautious. There was really no way he could avoid telling her the truth now, but he had to make sure that she did not escape him until he was absolutely certain that she had become his ally.

  “I am Sir James Drummond,” he said and was not surprised when she paled a little, for he knew the tales told of him had gotten wilder and more frightening with each year he had spent in hiding.

  “The mon who killed his wife?” she whispered, unable to stop herself from glancing toward the door, her only route of escape.

  “I didnae kill Mary,” he snapped.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, striving for calm. Yelling out his innocence was not the way to win her over to his side. It was hard, however, for he was weary beyond bearing of hearing himself named a killer of women. To hear Annora say it cut him far too deeply to ignore, as did the way she looked so ready to bolt.

  “But ye were cried an outlaw because of it,” she said tentatively. There must have been some proof.”

  Annora realized that she just could not believe it. Although James had lied and fooled everyone with his disguise, she again felt that she knew the man he was now that she was beginning to calm down. It was impossible to even think him capable of killing his wife, Mary. And a false accusation, followed by the loss of everything he owned or loved, would certainly explain all that barely leashed rage she had felt in him from the start.

  “Donnell MacKay saw to it that I was blamed,” James said. “I am nay sure how he accomplished it, but I intend to find out.”

  She sat down on the bed and tried to think. So many questions stirred in her mind, she could not decide which one to ask first. It still hurt to know that he had lied to her, but she was beginning to understand why he had done it. He was a man condemned as an outlaw and that meant that everyone had the right to kill him. He was, in many ways, a dead man; he was just awaiting the final, killing blow.

  “Who else kens who ye really are?” she finally asked, surprising herself with the question.

  “Big Marta. She has kenned me for too many years to be fooled for long by any disguise I put on. I doubt it fooled her for more than a few minutes.”

  James watched as Annora thought that over for a moment. There was no sign of the fear she had first shown when she had guessed that he was not who he had told her he was. Nor did she look shocked any longer or ready to run from him. There had been a look of hurt upon her face for a brief moment and he supposed he could understand that. He had the sensation he would have felt the same if she had fooled him in a similar way. Such trickery could make her think that everything he had said or done was also a lie, and that was the last thing he wanted her to believe.

  “And she has kept your secret all this time?” Annora suspected Big Marta would like nothing more than to have Donnell and his men banished from Dunncraig.

  “Aye, she has and she will.” Moving cautiously, he sat down beside her, pleased when she made no move to flee or even move away. “She kens that I am innocent.”

  “Wheesht, I ken that ye are innocent, too, but I am nay sure I ought to.” She tensed only briefly when he put his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer to his side. “I just cannae feel that ye would e’en hurt Mary or any woman, so ’tis verra hard to believe that ye killed her. Yet, weel, I cannae see how Donnell could have blamed ye and then gained all ye had.” She looked up at him. “E’en Meggie?”

  “E’en Meggie although I doubt she recalls me at all.”

  “I think she does in a way. She insists that Donnell is nay her father, that her father was a mon who laughed and smiled and loved her. Donnell does none of these things.”

  James nodded. “I have heard her say the same.”

  “Do ye mean to take Meggie away from here?”

  “Nay. I mean to reclaim her and Dunncraig. I fled here to stay alive, but it hasnae been any life at all. When spring came this year and I crawled out of the cave I had wintered in, I decided I was done with hiding.”

  Annora thought of this warm, vital man hiding in a cave like an animal and felt so sad she almost started weeping. She replaced that with a fury at Donnell. Her cousin had even stolen this man’s dignity. Realizing what she had just thought, she knew she believed him. She had always wondered how Donnell had gained so much, and had always suspected some trickery or crime. What she could not see was how any crime could be proven after three long years had passed.

  “It willnae be easy to prove your innocence,” she said, finally voicing her fears.

  “Nay, I ken that weel enough. I suspicion there was a part of me that thought I could find the truth if I could just get back inside Dunncraig. Weel, I have been here for a wee while, havenae I, and I havenae found anything that will hang that bastard. Of course, a mon clever enough to get an innocent mon declared an outlaw and make a claim on all that mon had wouldnae leave proof of his crimes lying about for all to see. Big Marta has heard a few whispers and rumors and is trying to find out if there is any truth in them. She willnae tell me what those rumors are until she does.”

  “She wouldnae, nay until she kenned what was the truth and what wasnae. She is a verra honest woman. I dinnae mean to pick at an old pain, but exactly how did Mary die? All I have e’er heard is that ye killed her and she was burned to death in a wee cottage in the wood.”

  James thought about that day three years ago and only felt a twinge of regret, and one that mostly concerned the death of a young, innocent woman. He felt guilty because Mary should have been loved and her death should have caused him far more pain than it had. Somehow his lack of love for her and the ease with which his grief passed diminished the poor woman in away. Worse, James could think of no one else, save perhaps his daughter, who felt any different than he did. Poor sweet, shy Mary had not left much of a mark upon her world. Her only true legacy was Margaret and in that James felt she had excelled.

  “Aye, that is what happened.” He shook his head. “I dinnae e’en ken what she was doing there. Mary ne’er went awandering and that cottage is a fair walk from here. She had no need to go there, either. None that I could e’er think of. MacKay convinced a lot of people that I had lured her there and killed her, burning the wee cottage to the ground in the hope of hiding my crime.”

  “But why would anyone think ye would do such a thing?”

  “Mary and I had fought that day, loudly and publicly. Mary was a shy, quiet lass, but she had been, weel, nay in a good temper for several weeks.” He shrugged. “I thought, mayhap, that she was with child again. ’Tis said that carrying a bairn can change a woman’s temperament. I didnae ken why she was so cross or pushed at me until I was, but I couldnae stay to try and soothe her. It was time for the planting and all. There was a great deal of work to do.”

  He frowned as he thought about how changed Mary had seemed in those last few weeks before she had died. James could recall feeling confused and irritated. He had had little time to deal with a moody woman. Tha
t was one reason he felt guilty and he knew it. Their last moments together had been filled with angry words. Then again, he doubted he would have felt any better if there had been peace between them that day, or, even worse, something that had hinted at a better, more passionate marriage.

  “That still isnae enough to get ye, a laird, proclaimed an outlaw and have all your lands given o’er to the verra one who accused ye.”

  “Weel, as I said, MacKay soon spread that tale that I had lured her to the cottage. There was also talk that I was angry because she had given me a girl child and wasnae hurrying to give me the son I wanted and needed. There was e’en talk that I had another woman at the ready to be my wife, a sturdy and good-for-breeding sort of lass. My mistake was in ignoring it all, in treating it all as no more than the worst sort of gossip that is stirred to life by an unexpected death. And I should have tried harder to find the source of those lies.”

  “Which was my cousin.”

  “Aye, I am fair sure it was. What I didnae ken was that he was crying murder to ones who had the power to hurt me with far more than rumor. “James shook his head. “I am nay sure how he did it, if he just talked people into believing his lies and those of the people he bribed or ordered to lie about me, or if he held some dark secret about some of them and used it to force them to help him destroy me. It just seemed as if one moment I am standing o’er my wife’s grave and the next I am cried outlaw and running for my life. There wasnae any time for me to search out the truth although I did try. Aye, as did my kinsmen until a few barely escaped death and my pleas to stay out of this trouble halted the more obvious attempts they were making.”

  “Did ye find anything in Donnell’s ledger room?” she asked, resting her head on his shoulder and, despite the dark tale they spoke of, enjoying the feel of his warm skin against her cheek as well as the way he stroked her arm.

  “I found the book where the deaths of my men were recorded. They werenae easy deaths they suffered and too few escaped. MacKay didnae want any mon still loyal to me to remain at Dunncraig and he also tried to make them tell him where I might have gone to hide. I had thought that by coming back here in disguise I would be able to track down the ones who lied against me, mayhap e’en find Mary’s killer.”