Heat rolled out of the fireplace beside them, and torchlight glinted off the armor scattered around the perimeter of the chamber, a reminder of days gone by. Curious glances were slanted in Trick’s direction, and people seemed to be edging their way closer.
Oblivious to it all, his mother lay in a box in the center of the room.
Sipping again, he looked away, up to Niall. “I cannot believe she’s dead.”
“I share your disbelief.” Niall hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision. “But unlike Da, I’m not entirely sure there’s no evil force at work. I intend to get to the bottom of it.” His suddenly narrowed gaze hinted at bravery beyond his years. “Will you help me?”
“I wasn’t planning to stay here,” Trick said. “I came at my mother’s request, and now she’s dead.” He had pressing matters back home. The king’s mission still awaited completion.
“Who is this?” a woman asked, stepping close. Her dull chestnut hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and she looked to be a few years older than Trick.
“Ah, Annag.” Niall’s smile failed to reach his eyes. “May I present the Duke of Amberley, my mother’s eldest son. Patrick, my half-sister, Annag.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Annag said, although she clearly wasn’t. Her dark brown eyes flashed with some emotion Trick couldn’t put a name to, but it was plain enough she didn’t like him. Or didn’t like him here.
“And Duncan,” Niall continued as a man joined their little gathering. Another of Hamish’s grown children, from the looks of him. He and Annag bore a marked resemblance to each other, the most obvious being their matching expressions of distaste.
Raising the tankard in his hand, Duncan took a deep swallow. “When are you going home?” he asked, skipping the preliminaries.
Wondering why he felt surrounded by the enemy, Trick rolled his shoulders and changed his mind about leaving so quickly. “When I’m good and ready. I’ve only just met my brother, and—”
“Oh, him,” Annag interrupted, shooting Niall a look every bit as deadly as the one she’d given Trick. “High and mighty Lord Niall.”
Apparently Niall had been passed off as the duke’s son, and Hamish’s other children resented him for it. But the young man only gave a good-natured shrug. “If you cannot be civil, Annag, I will ask you to leave my home.”
Duncan took another gulp of his spirits. “It’s his home now,” he said, indicating Trick with a smarmy, pleased gleam in his eye.
Niall flinched, but recovered swiftly. “And so it is, I suppose.”
“I won’t be throwing you out,” Trick assured him.
“I wouldn’t trust him,” Annag told Niall, as though Trick weren’t even there. “He may have been born here, but he’s turned English.”
When Niall just glared at her, she continued. “Well, listen to the man speak. English through and through. He’s forgotten his Scottish roots, and even you, gowk that you are, ought to know better than to trust a Sassenach.”
“Don’t the women need help in the kitchen?” Niall asked his sister. “And what are your bairns up to? And Duncan, have you sat some time with Da this day? Rhona and Gregor could use a respite. They’re good friends, but you’re his son.” After that brave speech, he looked down to his scuffed black boots. “Give us some peace, will you? Our Mam just died.”
“And good riddance,” one of them muttered as they shambled away. Trick wasn’t sure which, but it didn’t seem to matter. So far as he could tell, they both hated him equally. The fact that they’d hated his mother as well came as no surprise.
From what he knew of her, she, at least, hadn’t deserved their love or admiration. His father had made no secret of her many faults, and already one had been proven true this night: His mother had been an adulteress. Perhaps Hamish’s wife had been dead when Niall was conceived, but Elspeth’s husband had not.
Trick slumped in the stone niche and extricated his hand from Kendra’s, belatedly realizing she’d been holding it in an iron grip.
“Welcome to Scotland,” he said, flexing it ruefully.
THIRTY-SIX
ALTHOUGH IT had grown late, the castle was still overrun with people. Apparently, after his years away had made it clear to Elspeth that her husband was never returning, she’d invited Hamish to live with her and Niall. Hamish’s older children had been grown by then and had homes of their own, but since Elspeth’s death they’d been staying here to keep him company. With his grandchildren, too, of course. One big, happy family, as the saying went.
Somehow, Kendra didn’t think it applied in this case.
“Are you sure you don’t want the master’s chamber?” Niall asked.
Trick shook his head. “I wouldn’t dream of moving your father. There must be a spare bed here somewhere.”
And that was how Trick and Kendra came to follow Niall up what seemed like miles of winding stone stairs, until at last they stepped into a huge, deserted chamber.
Their footfalls echoed off the wooden floor as they entered. A few torches on the walls did little in the way of brightening the place, and the room gave off a musty scent that spoke of long disuse.
Kendra stared up at the gloomy vaulted stone ceiling. “It’s spooky.”
Niall gave her a wan smile. “Cromwell garrisoned his soldiers in here when he commandeered the castle near the end of the war. A hundred of them, lying foot-to-head on the floor, with a second hundred on another level that rested on those posts you see protruding from the wall.” He pressed a key into Trick’s hand. “Your staff has moved your things up here already. Shall I have them sent up to attend you? You’ve a valet, do you not, and a ladies’ maid?”
“Aye, my man goes by Cavanaugh, and Jane sees to her grace.” Trick’s gaze met Kendra’s. “But I think we can fend for ourselves tonight.”
Though she didn’t know if he’d intended
