Dwyn frowned, very much afraid he was right. She’d seen that fairness in regard to Lady Catriona and Lady Sasha. He and Geordiehad suspected they were behind the attacks, but hadn’t sent them away until they needed the rooms because there was no proof.Mind you, it turned out Aulay had been right to do that. The attacks hadn’t been by the two ladies at all, but by Katie. Dwynstill found that rather dismaying news. She’d smiled and chatted with the maid, never knowing how close she stood to a killerand someone who meant her so much harm.
“Me plan is really very clever,” Brodie announced, drawing her attention back to him. “I’ll send three men separately to Buchanan.One will stay in the woods by the loch Geordie seems to enjoy so much, awaiting an opportunity to drown him and make it appearaccidental. Another will camp in the woods on the edge o’ the village, and watch for an opportunity to knock him from hishorse should he come or go. He’ll then make it appear he was thrown from his horse and broke his neck. And the last man willoffer his services as a soldier and move right into Buchanan. If they take him on, which I’m sure they will since I’ve nodoubt their men are so stretched right now with their search fer you they could use more help, he can await any possibilityto kill him there—breaking his neck and throwing him down the stairs when no one is about so it looks accidental, bumpinginto him in the training field so he is skewered on his opponent’s sword while practicing with the men, a fire in the stableswhile he is in there.” He beamed. “The possibilities are endless.”
Brodie turned suddenly as if listening to someone, and then frowned and nodded. Starting to pace the length of the tent, hesaid, “Aye. O’ course ye’re right. Finding an opportunity to cause a death that might look accidental could take a while,and we canno’ live out here in a tent forever.”
She felt Father Machar move behind her and glanced over her shoulder to see that he was staring at Brodie with confusion.
“Aye, dove, again ye’re right. It very well might be better to poison the food at Buchanan, or the water, with something thatcould appear to be the result o’ bad meat, or something o’ that ilk. But what?” he asked, and then scowled irritably. “Whatdo ye mean ye do no’ ken? Why suggest it if ye’ve no idea what to use to do it?”
“Who is he talking to?” Father Machar whispered with bewilderment.
“I think his dead wife,” Dwyn whispered back. That was what she’d concluded the last time he’d started talking to someonewho wasn’t there. It was while he’d been trying to rape her. Apparently, his wife had been giving him pointers, or urginghim on anyway. It was the only reason he hadn’t managed the task before her dogs had got to them and attacked. He’d stoppedbriefly to shout at the empty sky overhead, telling someone that she’d always been a bloody nag, which was why he’d nevermanaged to plant a bairn in her belly. He’d then bellowed out that if she’d been more pleasant to be around, he never wouldhave choked her to death. He’d started foaming at the mouth at that point too. The man was mad.
“Damn woman! Ye’re as useless dead as ye were alive. Killing ye was the smartest thing I ever did!” Brodie snarled with frustration.
“Oh dear,” Father Machar breathed behind her and Dwyn supposed it was at the realization that the man had killed his wife.
“Oh, leave off, woman!” Brodie barked suddenly. “I shall have to think on this. There must be someone in the area who kensabout such things. I will find out.”
He didn’t even look toward Dwyn and Father Machar then, but simply stormed out of the tent.
“Lady Buchanan?” Father Machar murmured, his voice shaky.
“Aye, Father?” Dwyn asked, returning to trying to undo his bindings.
“I do believe ye may be correct. Laird Brodie is quite mad.”
“Aye, Father,” Dwyn breathed, and then sighed with exasperation and started to scoot away from him.
“What are ye doing, lass?” he asked, craning his neck around to try to see her.
“I am going to try to get me hands in front o’ me,” she muttered, and then shifted up to her knees and slid her bound handsunder her butt and then forward as she dropped back so that they rested in front of her bottom beneath her upper thighs. Dwynthen shifted her feet so that her bottom was on the floor and her knees were raised with her feet planted on the ground. Pressingher chest as tight to the raised tops of her legs as she could, she squeezed her feet back to press against her butt and slidher hands under her feet until she could push them in front of her feet. It was a bit tight thanks to her overlarge chest,but she managed it, and expelled a relieved breath when her wrists were now in front of her and she could relax.
“My,” Father Machar breathed. “That was clever. Do ye think I could do it?”
Dwyn glanced toward the aging prelate and smiled faintly. “Ye can try if ye like, Father, but hopefully I’ll be able to getfree now and then will free you too.”
She turned her attention to the ropes around her wrists, picking out which cord to start with and then raised her wrists toher mouth, bit into the cord and began to tug. Dwyn was aware that Father Machar had pushed himself to his knees and was tryingto do what she had done, but didn’t look over to see how he was making out. Instead, she concentrated on her ropes. It occurredto her halfway through that she could have simply untied the priest and let him untie her, but she was so close to being
