day. He is ill and our prayers should be with our king in his time of need. He has asked that I preside over today’s hearing and that my word be received as his.”
Ewan turned sharply to his brothers to see the same incredulity etched on their faces as was on his. This was wrong. It was all wrong. Ewan curled his fingers into fists and glanced over at Duncan, who only had eyes for Mairin.
“Laird Cameron, you’ve leveled serious charges against Laird McCabe. Come forward. I would hear all from the beginning.”
Duncan walked confidently toward the dais and bowed low before Lord Archibald.
“Mairin Stuart arrived at Cameron Keep from Kilkirken Abby, where we were married by the priest who has tended to the souls of my clan for two score years. I have a letter written from him to the king attesting to this fact.”
Ewan’s eyes narrowed in outrage that a man of God would be a willing party to this deception. Duncan handed over the scroll to Archibald, who unrolled and read it before setting it aside.
“Our marriage was consummated.” Duncan pulled from the pouch that hung at his side the sheet bearing Mairin’s bloodstain. “I offer this as proof.”
Ewan’s fists clenched in rage. Aye, the blood was Mairin’s blood. It was the sheet that Ewan had ordered Cameron’s man to bear back to his laird, the proof that Ewan and Mairin’s marriage had been consummated. The sheet that Duncan now offered as proof of his bedding of Mairin.
Archibald turned to Mairin, whose face was as pale as death, her gaze fastened on the sheet. She looked up at Ewan in bewilderment, and Ewan closed his eyes.
“Can you attest to the fact that the blood on the sheet is yours, Lady Mairin? Do you recognize the linen?”
Her cheeks colored and she looked at Lord Archibald, clearly unsure as to how to proceed.
“I would have your answer,” Archibald prompted.
“Aye,” she said, her voice cracking. “ ’Tis my blood, but ’tis not Duncan Cameron’s sheet. ’Tis from the bed of —”
“That is all I require,” Archibald said, slicing his hand in the air to silence Mairin.heet that 1C;I require an answer, nothing more. Be silent until I’ve given you permission to speak again.”
Fury settled in Ewan’s chest, boiling, at the manner in which Archibald addressed Mairin. He showed her blatant disrespect as both the wife of a laird and cousin to the king.
She looked as though she’d argue, but Ewan caught her gaze and quickly shook his head. He had no desire for her to be punished for speaking out in the king’s court. The punishment for such was steep, and more so for a woman daring to speak out.
She bit her lip and looked away, but not before Ewan saw the rage in her eyes.
“What happened next?” Archibald asked Cameron.
“Mere days after my marriage to Lady Mairin, she was abducted from my keep by men acting under Laird McCabe’s orders. She was taken from me to where she has remained, on McCabe lands. The child she carries is mine. Laird McCabe has no claim. Our marriage is valid. He has kept her prisoner and forced her to his will. I ask for his majesty’s intervention so that my lady wife and my child are returned to me and her dowry is released to me as requested in my missive to the king informing him of our marriage months past.”
Mairin gasped at the accusations that spilled from Duncan’s lips. Ewan started forward, but Caelen gripped his arm and held him back.
“Cousin, please,” Mairin pleaded. “Let me be heard.”
“Silence!” Archibald roared. “If you cannot hold your tongue, woman, I will have you removed from this hall.”
He turned back to Duncan. “Have you witnesses who support your accounting of what happened?”
“You have the statement from the priest who wed us. That predates any claim Laird McCabe makes on Mairin, her dowry, or her lands.”
Archibald nodded and then turned his cool stare to Ewan. “What say you to these claims, Laird McCabe?”
“ ’Tis complete and utter horseshit,” Ewan said calmly.
Archibald’s brows drew together and his cheeks reddened. “You will hold a civil tongue in your head, Laird. You would not speak thusly to the king, and you will not speak in my presence as such.”
“I can only speak the truth, my lord. Laird Cameron speaks falsely. He stole Mairin Stuart from the abbey where she’d taken refuge for the last ten years. When she refused to wed him, he beat her so badly that she could barely walk for days afterward, and she wore the bruises for an entire fortnight.”
The hall broke into a series of murmurs. The buzz rose and grew louder until Archibald shouted for order.
“What proof do you offer?” Archibald asked.
“I saw the bruises. I saw the fear in her eyes when she arrived on my lands, that I would trea her as she was treated by Cameron. My brother Alaric tended her for the three-day journey from where he found her after she escaped Cameron’s clutches until they arrived on McCabe land. He, too, saw the bruises and witnessed the pain that the lass endured.
“We were married a few days after her arrival. She came to my bed pure and her virgin’s blood was spilled on my sheet, the one that Cameron has offered to you this day. The child she carries is mine. She has known no other man.”
Archibald leaned back in his seat, his fingers pressing together in a V as he surveyed the two men in front of him. “You give a very different accounting than Laird Cameron. Have you witnesses who can speak as to the veracity of your words?”
