The Baron's Bounty (21 page)

Chapter 25

“Rose, I ken ye’re under there, now come on out.” Isobel ducked down and scooted beneath the stairs. Just as she suspected, she saw Rose curled up in a fetal position, hugging her doll made of rags.

“Leave me alone,” came her little voice from the shadows. It was late by the time they’d returned to the castle, and Conlin had gone up to the battlements rather than have to go to the solar and confront Catherine. Most everyone had retired for the evening, but there were still some people roaming the corridor and stirring in the Great Hall.

“Ye ken ye canna stay here forever.”

“My father wants me to marry that old Scotsman and I’m scared.”

“I talked to yer faither.”

“Really?” She pushed up to a sitting position. “Did he say I wouldn’t have to marry the man after all?”

“Well, actually . . . nay.”

She recoiled and hugged the doll.

“But he didna say aye, either, so I still have some time to convince him it’s a bad idea.”

“You’d do that for me?” Tears streamed down the girl’s face.

“Oh, Rose, I’d walk barefoot fer the rest o’ me life if I had te just te be able te help ye. I’m goin’ te miss ye when I’m gone.”

“When you’re gone?” She wiped away a tear with the doll and sat up again. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve secured passage aboard Laird Angus’s ship. It leaves first thing in the mornin’.”

“Then take me with you.” She reached out and hugged Isobel in a hold that was so tight Isobel could barely breathe. Isobel’s arms went around her in return.

“I wish I could, be ye need te stay here with yer faither.”

“Then you stay too.”

“I canna, Rose. I’m sorry. I’m no’ the one married te yer faither. Catherine is his wife now.”

“Oh, there you are,” came a man’s voice from the top of the stairs, and Rose quickly let loose with her hold. Isobel reached out and put a finger up to Rose’s lips to keep her from speaking.

The man’s feet could be seen on the stairs through the openings, but Isobel could not see his face. She recognized the boots immediately as the smoke-tanned, oil dressed boots of her guard, Elliot.

“I’ve been looking for ye,” he continued. “What is that ye’re wearin’?”

Then she heard another set of footsteps coming though the corridor and toward the stairs.

Step, Drag, Swish - Step, Drag, Swish. Her heartbeat picked up. Where had she heard this before? Then the footsteps started up the stairs, and stopped right in front of her nose.

She gasped loudly when she saw the shoes though the opening, and then covered her mouth with her hand in order not to cry out. These were the baron’s two-toned Cordoba leather boots. And that walk – that uneven gate with the feet dragging - that’s the same thing she’d heard and seen the night of the king’s murder.

“Hey, what are ye doin’? asked the guard, and she heard a struggle above their heads. “Let go o’ me. Ye’re crazy! Let go, I say.” Then came the awful thud of a body falling down the stairs. Tumbling, tumbling to the ground. Isobel grabbed Rose and pushed her face into her chest as the body of Elliot fell past them. She heard him hit the ground hard. Then the baron’s boots passed her again and she heard the footsteps stop. The sound of a sword being pulled from a scabbard split the air. Next she heard a sickening thud, and the sound of a skull being split open. The scrape of a sword sliding back into place was next, and then just the sound of Step, Drag, Swish - Step, Drag, Swish, as the baron’s boots disappeared up the stairs.

“Stay here,” she whispered, and crawled out from her hiding place, stopping when she saw Elliot lying there with a gash in his skull. Blood oozed out from the wound, trickling down the side of his face.

“Elliot, are ye all right?” She ran to him and put her hand on his neck but could not find a pulse. Her eyes flew upward to catch a glimpse of the killer, but all she could see was the back of baron’s hooded cloak trailing behind the killer as he disappeared down the hall.

“Help,” she cried out. “Someone, help me. There is a man here thet is deid.”

* * *

Conlin pushed his way past the crowd of people, having run into the keep when he heard the shouting from within. “What’s going on here?” He broke through the crowd to see Elliot lying dead at the bottom of the stairs. There was a gash on his head and blood pooled around him. “What the hell happened?”

“He fell down the stairs,” came the sound of Isobel’s voice. He looked up to see her standing by the edge of the stairway holding Rose to her chest, running a hand through the girl’s hair to comfort her.

“Rose!” He made his way to his daughter, bending close to her when he got near. “I was so worried about you. Are you all right?”

“O’ course she’s no’ all right,” spat Isobel. “We’ve jest witnessed a man goin’ te his deith!” She made a face and shook her head.

“What’s all the commotion? Canna a man get any sleep around here?” Laird MacEwen ran down from above stairs and stopped when he saw what had happened. “Good God, it’s Elliot. How did it happen?” He made his way slowly down to the body.

“My lord, we just heard what happened.” Toft ran in with Shadwell right behind him.

“And where were you two?” asked Conlin, walking over to go inspect the dead body.

“I was out looking for Rose,” said Toft.

“So was I,” added Shadwell.

“Rose!” Toft spotted the girl and ran over to comfort her.

Then there was a bloodcurdling scream from the top of the stairs and Conlin looked up to see Lady Catherine swaying back and forth, looking like she was going to swoon.

“Catherine, dinna look,” shouted the laird, running back up the stairs to comfort his daughter.

Conlin saw the blood on the hilt of the man’s own sword and knew at once that it had been used to hit him over the head. He checked for signs of life, and when he found none, he called to his men. “Guards, get the body out of here. Everyone else, go back to bed. There is nothing we can do for him. His time here is through.”

He walked back to Isobel and Rose, wondering why they were there and what this was all about.

“Isobel? What really happened?”

She looked at him, then up the stairs at Catherine and her uncle. Then her gaze settled on Toft and Shadwell who were helping the guards carry away Elliot’s dead body.

“It’s happened again,” she said softly.

“What’s happened?” asked Conlin.

Her eyes met his and he saw the fear within them. She shook her head and bit her bottom lip. “Elliot was killed,” she explained in a low voice. “Conlin, I saw the shoes o’ the man thet did it. They were the same shoes o’ the man who killed the king. Your shoes.”

“Egads, Isobel, you don’t think I did it?”

“O’ course no’,” she answered. “But I still dinna ken who it is, only thet the murderer is now right here in Briarbeck Castle.”

Chapter 26

“Isobel, look what I have for you.” Catherine held out a pair of shoes in front of Isobel the next morning, and Isobel’s eyes fastened to them immediately. They were unlike anything she’d ever seen before. While the type of shoe was common, the leather they were made from was not.

“Those look like . . . two different types of leather,” she said, reaching out to touch them.

“They are. Oxhide and leather from a boar my father caught on a hunting trip. They’ve been treated by the method of oak bark pit tanning. They’re some of the finest shoes you’ll ever see. My cordwainer constructed them according to my directions.”

“But mixing two types of leather isna allowed by the guilds.”

“Then don’t tell anyone, and mayhap they won’t fine you for wearing the shoes.”

“I – I dinna ken what te say.” All Isobel could think about were these shoes. She wanted them – nay, she needed them more than any shoes in her life.

“Go ahead, try them on.” Catherine shoved the shoes into Isobel’s hands and strutted around the solar like she owned it.

“I will.” With a smile on her face and her hands trembling in anticipation, Isobel sat on a chair to try on the shoes.

“Did you know my husband never came to the solar last night?”

“Oh?” Isobel’s eyes were transfixed on the shoes and she could barely concentrate on what Catherine was saying. She didn’t have time to be trying on shoes. Laird Angus’s ship was leaving soon and she needed to be on it. Still, she couldn’t pass up an opportunity of a lifetime.

“I don’t suppose you know where he was?”

She sat down and removed her shoes, trying on the new ones that she coveted. They fit perfectly, and felt soft like clouds on her feet. She stood up and walked around the room to test them out. “Do I ken where who was?”

“Conlin, you fool! My new husband. Was he with you?”

That got her attention. “Nay. He was out lookin’ fer his daughter. I did see him on the docks, but then I think he went up te the battlements.”

“The battlements? Whatever for? Did he really think the girl was up there? Or was he trying to get away from me?”

Isobel’s eyes snapped upwards and she realized she’d said too much. She wasn’t purposely trying to put a wedge between Conlin and Catherine, but she had to admit she was elated to find out that Conlin never returned to the solar last night.

“I . . . I dinna ken, Catherine.”

“Of course you do. Now tell me . . . why are you even here?”

“I came te say guidbye. I’ve got passage aboard Laird Angus’s ship back te Scotland.”

“So you’re leaving?” Catherine’s eyes lit up in excitement, and it made Isobel wonder if she were doing the right thing.

“Mayhap I should stay.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and held out a foot, admiring the shoe. “After all, Elliot was murdered and I need te ken thet Rose is safe afore I leave. I’m the only one who can identify the murderer.”

“Murdered?” She gasped. “What are you talking about?”

“It was the same person who murdered the king. I saw the boots they wore.”

“What boots? Where are these boots?”

Isobel’s heart skipped when she realized just what she’d said. She never meant to tell her, but she’d been distracted by the shoes. “I’ve said too much already, Catherine. I was supposed te keep quiet.” She started to take off the shoes.

“Nay!” Catherine held up a hand. “Keep the shoes.”

“Really?” Isobel felt the excitement surge through her.

“Aye. That is – keep them as long as you leave here today and never come back again.”

“Never?” Isobel was devastated. Never was a long time. She’d planned on leaving rather than to have to watch Conlin and Catherine carry on as husband and wife, but now with the murder, she wondered if she should stay. Conlin had told her he didn’t want Catherine, so mayhap she’d have a chance to be with him after all, and not just be a proxy. “I dinna ken,” she said, running her hand over a shoe as she spoke.

“Just take the shoes and go back to Scotland and think about it then. Your mind is muddled and you’ll be able to clear your head in the fresh open air of home.”

Isobel held her foot up and looked at the shoe again. It looked wonderful and felt softer than any shoe she’d ever worn before. Mayhap Catherine was right. Perhaps she could leave for just a while until she cleared her head, and then come back to England later.

“Well, I suppose it would be guid te clear me heid.” She stood up slowly.

“Go then, as the ship won’t wait. And give my regards to Laird Angus MacDonald as well.” Catherine pushed her out into the corridor and slammed the door behind her.

Isobel turned back and put her hand on the latch, but stopped when she caught a glimpse of her foot in that wonderful, beautiful shoe. She was torn and didn’t know what to do. Then she decided she couldn’t stay here and watch Catherine throw herself at Conlin. Especially since he wouldn’t do a thing about it. He’d acted as if he were helpless and wouldn’t go against the alliance he’d made with her uncle. If he wasn’t going to do anything about getting out of the deal he’d made, then there was no place for her in his life.

She hurried down the stairs, hoping the ship hadn’t left without her.

* * *

“Thank you for coming so quickly.” Conlin stood on the pier and greeted his friends as the fisherman’s boat docked. Lords John Montague and Nicholas Vaughn climbed out of the boat and greeted their friend.

“What’s troubling you?” asked John. “I was woken in the middle of the night and told you needed me to come to Sandwich immediately.”

“So was I,” added Nicholas. “Something is amiss, and I’d like to know what it is.”

“Nicholas?” His wife, Muriel, stood on the boat with both their babies in her arms. “Are you going to help me with the children?”

“Sorry, Muriel, of course I am.” Nicholas rushed over and took the six-month-old twins from her while she lifted the hem of her skirt and climbed out of the boat onto the pier.

“God’s eyes, Romney, you brought your whole family along?” growled Conlin.

“She insisted on coming, and didn’t want to leave the babies behind.” Nicholas repositioned the children in his arms.

“That’s right,” added Muriel, brushing off her skirt. “I thought Isobel might need another woman around right now. I didn’t like the idea of taking the babies aboard a boat, but knew this sounded important.”

“This is no place for babies.” Conlin felt frustrated by the whole situation. “There’s been a man murdered and I think it’s the same person who murdered the Scottish king.”

“Oh my!” Muriel looked up with wide eyes. “Perhaps I should go back to New Romney with the children.” She was about to take the children but stopped and looked down the wharf. “Is that Isobel I see?”

“Where?” Conlin looked around, thinking she’d followed him to the docks.

“Over there.” Muriel pointed. “She looks like she’s getting aboard a ship.”

“Bid the devil, I don’t have time for this. Excuse me,” he told his friends and took off at a run down the wharf. “Isobel,” he called out, but she didn’t hear him. The Scottish ship left the dock and headed out to the sea. “Isobel, stop! Come back.” He made his way to the end of the pier and finally caught her attention. She looked over the side of the ship as the distance between them widened.

“Conlin? What do ye want?” she called out.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to Scotland te clear me heid.”

“Come off that ship right now,” he ordered. “You are not going anywhere.”

“Why not? Are ye goin’ te leave Catherine fer me?”

“That’s not fair, you know I can’t.” The ship got further away.

“Then I have nothin’ te say, Baron Sandwich. Except please take guid care o’ Rose.” Her head disappeared from over the top of the wall of the ship, and Conlin knew he’d lost her.

“Arrrrrgh,” he shouted, kicking at a pebble on the pier that went sailing out into the water and landed with a splash.

“Sandwich, what’s wrong?” John ran down the pier to join him.

“Where is she going?” asked Muriel, holding up her skirts as she, too, made her way to the end of the pier. Nicholas brought up the rear, walking briskly with both his children in his arms.

“I’ve lost her,” he said, clenching his jaw tightly. “I don’t know what I’ll do without her.”

“Did you tell her that?” asked Muriel.

“Aye, I believe so. But she wanted me to leave Catherine for her.”

“And you said no?” Muriel’s voice was surprised as well as scolding.

“I told her I wanted to, but couldn’t. I made an alliance with Laird MacEwen, and I have to keep to my word and not break it.”

“You told her that?” Now Muriel crossed her arms over her chest, reminding him a lot of Isobel when she was angered.

“Oh, Sandwich, not a good move,” said Nicholas shaking his head. “Even I know that.”

“But he does have an alliance,” said John in his defense. “And Isobel knew she was just a proxy.”

“Isn’t that man you made an alliance with, Isobel’s uncle?” asked Muriel.

“Aye, it is,” answered Conlin.

“And you didn’t once think that mayhap you could keep that alliance, but instead be married to his niece instead of his daughter?”

“Aye, didn’t you think of that?” asked Nicholas. “Even I would have thought of that.”

Muriel rolled her eyes at her husband’s comment. “Nay, you wouldn’t have, Husband. Let’s not get carried away now.”

“Enough of this talk.” Conlin, took once last look at the Scottish ship sailing away, then turned and headed down the pier. “I have a murderer inside my castle walls, and everything else is just going to have to wait until later.”

“What are you going to do, Romney?” Nicholas followed, taking long strides to keep up with him, holding his children securely to his chest.

“Aye, and how can we help you?” added John, keeping up with the pace.

“Come back to the castle where we can talk in private,” directed Conlin. “And whatever you do, don’t tell anyone the real reason you are here. I cannot trust anyone anymore. For all I know, the murderer could be my closest ally.”