The celebration in the great hall was well underway by the time they arrived. Wine and ale flowed. Everyone appeared in high spirits, the conversation lively.

Ilisa held tight to Braden’s arm as he led the way to their seats. A juggler performed tricks before the high table, adding to the laughter. Musicians sat together at one table, their instruments propped along the wall nearby.

“Here we go, Lady Cairstine,” Braden said as he looked at her with a smile.

“Indeed, Sir Hugh.” She returned his smile and lifted her chin. One more evening. That was all she had to endure in the great hall of the man who wanted her and her family dead.

“You must pat yourself on the back,” Braden said.

“Whatever for?”

“You’ve fooled Lord Graham. You’ve eaten at his table this entire celebration without him being the wiser.”

She chuckled. “That is certainly something about which to brag. I look forward to telling Sophia of it.” Why did she worry that, until it was over, speaking as such would bring bad luck?

Hoping the thought was merely a result of nerves and not a foreteller of misfortune, she took her seat and kept her focus on Braden’s comforting presence.

“Chanse is trying his best to charm our hosts once again.” Braden smiled with amusement at the sight of his brother speaking to Lady Graham.

Ilisa chuckled at the lady’s blank expression. “He’s not succeeding with Lady Graham, but Lady Gideon would be pleased to speak with him.” She dipped her head toward where the lady sat at a nearby table, waggling her fingers at Chanse each time he looked her way. “He completely ignores Lady Arabela. Does he do so on purpose?”

“Who knows what ideas cross his mind?”

“I don’t suppose we’ll be hearing an announcement of Arabela’s hand being given to the tournament champion after all,” Ilisa said, noting the sidelong looks Arabela gave Chanse.

“Based on Graham’s expression, Chanse is not the champion he had in mind.” Braden shook his head, obviously amused at the turn of events. “No doubt the lord is pleased he didn’t announce that she’d be the prize for the winner at the beginning of the celebration.”

The first course arrived along with Alec to serve them.

“We leave come morn, aye?” he whispered as he set a trencher between them.

Braden nodded. “Indeed. We’ll break our fast and thank our hosts and be gone.”

Alec appeared relieved. “Not that I don’t like serving as your squire, but I’m ready to go home.”

Home to where? Ilisa hoped her brother remembered they couldn’t return to their little cottage in Berwick. They’d need to stay either at St. Mary’s or see if Hilda minded if they remained with her for a time.

Then what?

“What has turned your thoughts so dark?” Braden asked, watching her carefully.

“Nothing.” Only the realization that she had little to return to. She lifted her chin and took a deep drink of the spiced wine. The important thing to remember was that she was leaving come morn. For that, she was grateful.

“We have much reason to celebrate this evening,” Braden whispered.

“Oh?”

“Our mission has been a success. The information we gathered will help protect the residents of your city along with all of Scotland.” He lifted his cup, waiting for her to do the same then tapped them together. “Well done, my lady.”

Ilisa smiled as his warm gaze held hers for a long moment. He was right. They’d accomplished the impossible. But she’d be more inclined to celebrate once they were well away from here. “And to you, husband.”

The meal was even more elaborate than the previous feasts. Once the final course was served and Chanse’s victory had been toasted, the musicians began to play. The cithara, a stringed instrument, and two harps created a lilting sound. But when the strains of a bagpipe filled the hall, the guests shouted their approval.

Many of the long trestle tables were stacked against the far wall to make room in the center of the hall for dancing.

“Would you care to join me?” Braden asked, the corner of his mouth turned up.

Her heart lightened at his offer. At her nod, he assisted her to rise, keeping her hand in his and led her to the cleared area where other couples joined them. A new song began, the rhythm pulling Ilisa into the dance.

Into the moment.

She and Braden circled each other, hands on hips, their gazes locked. Then they turned in the opposite direction, other couples doing the same. Though they didn’t touch, she felt as if Braden held her in the circle of his arms. With intricate footwork, they made their way to the opposite end of the floor then back again before spinning in a circle once more.

The movement and the music caused all else to fall away, leaving only her and Braden. The dance ended far too soon but left Ilisa smiling. This was another of those moments to cherish, and she held tight to it.

“Have I told you how much I like your smile?”

Yet Braden’s words faded as a terrible panic stopped her breath. Fear shivered through her. An unusual yet familiar scent caught her notice, bringing another wave of fear washing over her, leaving her heart pounding.

She stilled, unable to understand. Then it came to her.

“Are you unwell?” Braden asked as he took her hand, his expression full of concern.

That same scent had followed her just before she’d been shoved from the stairs. She turned, determined to find the source, to find Monroe directly behind her.

“Enjoying the celebration?” he asked with a smile, his glittering gaze raking over her before shifting to Braden.

Ilisa clutched Braden’s hand, trying to breathe and ease her panic. Logically, she knew they were in the middle of the great hall. Monroe couldn’t cause any harm here, but her body didn’t seem to understand that.

Had it truly been him when he looked at them with the same friendly, engaging smile he’d had the entire sennight?

“We are. The musicians are very good.” Braden stepped closer, placing a protective arm around her. “I’m parched. Shall we get a drink, my dear?”

Ilisa nodded, tearing her gaze from Monroe before he realized something was amiss.

Braden eased her forward until they were well away from the steward.

“What is it?” he asked.

“’Twas Monroe. He was the one who pushed me off the stairs.”

He halted, dropping his arm from around her. “Are you certain?”

She nodded, wondering if he’d believe her when she could hardly believe it herself.

“You remembered something?” He glanced over his shoulder at the steward who stood to the side of the dancers, nodding his head in time to the music.

“He smells of onion and sandalwood, just as he did that night. I noted it as I left Arabela’s chamber as ’tis such an odd combination. Then I felt his hands on my back as he shoved me from the stairs.” The more she spoke of it, the more certain she became. “’Twas him, I’m sure of it.”

Braden frowned, his expression full of doubt.

Ilisa’s heart sank. How could she convince him to believe her?

 

~*~

 

Braden looked at Monroe again, trying to comprehend how he could’ve been so wrong about the steward. He’d noted the scent of sandalwood on the man more than once. Had it been the addition of the onion smell with it that had triggered Ilisa’s memory?

She’d been right about Matthew. The knight had been more than helpful to Braden and Chanse during the melee, proving he was a man of his word. Who was he to think she was wrong about Monroe?

“Damn him to hell and back,” Braden muttered under his breath as he glared at the steward, imagining him sneaking up behind Ilisa and shoving her off the stairs. The act of a coward.

Monroe seemed to sense the weight of his gaze and looked askance at Braden.

Braden couldn’t find it in himself to smile and act as though all was well. Instead, he continued to glare at the man. “If only there were a way for us to prove his guilt.”

Ilisa glanced away. “My word is not enough?”

It took a moment for her words to sink through his anger. “Dear wife,” he began as he turned her to face him, refusing to address her with a false name when they were speaking of something this important. “I believe you. Somehow, someway, the man will forfeit his life for his deed. I only wish we had proof so I could force Graham to take action against him.”

Ilisa nodded, seeming to draw a relieved breath as he took her hand and clasped it tight. “Would the lord punish him? Or reward him? I have to wonder if he acted of his own accord or if he was directed to do so.”

Braden pondered her words. “You may be correct. Perhaps a spur of the moment decision on his part if he overheard you speaking with Arabela. No doubt she’s easier to control when she feels isolated.”

“Poor Arabela.”

“’Twould be even better if we could link Monroe’s actions to Graham and prove him guilty as well.”

“Who would hold the lord accountable?” Ilisa shook her head. “No one here.”

Chanse came to stand beside them before Braden could respond. “I’ve given up attempting to gain any additional information from those at the head table,” he said with a disgruntled expression. “How can we stop Graham if we don’t know what he intends to do?” He looked back and forth between them as though at last sensing their tension. “What’s happened?”

“We know who pushed my wife.”

Chanse straightened, ready to do battle. “Who?”

“Monroe,” Braden whispered when he wanted to yell the man’s name and draw his sword to run him through.

Chanse’s gaze swung to the steward who spoke with several men. “Damn. I wouldn’t have guessed. Do we confront him now?”

“With only her word against his, we’ll wait for a more private moment to exact revenge,” Braden said. “Too many in the hall might defend him, including Graham.”

“We can’t wait long as we leave on the morrow.”

“We’ll make certain an opportunity presents itself,” Braden said, unwilling to settle for anything less. He looked again at the steward to find him studying all three of them, eyes narrowed.

Braden stared back, not caring if the man realized they knew of his guilt. After all, Braden intended to tell him soon enough. In fact, he looked forward to it.

 

~*~

 

Braden slept fitfully that night, images of Monroe pushing Ilisa off the stairs running through his mind time and again. His anger wouldn’t subside enough to allow him to truly rest.

Braden intended to confront the steward before they left. He couldn’t kill him as not only would it be murder, it would mean risking Graham’s wrath. But he’d do all he could to put the fear of God into the steward.

Only two or three days remained before they’d arrive back in Berwick. More than likely, this would be the last night he slept beside Ilisa. He was almost grateful for thoughts of Monroe as they kept him from pulling her into his arms and making love to her.

That didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the feel of her cuddled against him.

Once they arrived back at St. Mary’s, he wanted to have a long conversation with her to share what was in his heart and see if a future together was possible. Had she overcome her aversion of English knights? What of her wish to join St. Mary’s? Would she consider setting that aside for him?

He had many questions, none of which could be discussed until they were far from Graham’s holding.

Ilisa stirred as the sky lightened. Soon the time to pack their belongings would be upon them. He was anxious to be gone but leaving before he had a chance to confront Monroe was not an option.

“Sir Hugh? Lady Cairstine?” Alec’s voice from outside the tent held a note of urgency Braden didn’t like.

Ilisa was awake in an instant, her worried gaze meeting Braden’s.

“I’ll see what’s amiss,” Braden said and stood to hurriedly pull on his chausses and tunic. Then he lifted the tent flap, his stomach dropping at the sight that awaited him.

Monroe smiled, gripping Alec’s arm tightly, his other hand hidden. The lad’s face was pale and pinched with pain. He cradled one arm with care.

“Good morn, Sir Hugh.” Monroe kept his voice low, his position to the side and just behind Alec as though using him as a partial shield. “We’ve come to have a few words with you.”

“Alec, what happened?” Braden ignored the steward to study the boy.

Alec blinked rapidly, his nostrils flaring, his lips pressed tight. Braden knew beyond a doubt that he fought against pain. When Alec glanced at Monroe, Braden had the answer as to who had caused it.

“What have you done?” Braden demanded, aware of Ilisa coming to stand at his side, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“Alec?” she cried. She stepped toward her brother, but Braden took her arm to hold her back.

How could he have missed the cruelness in Monroe’s eyes? In the set of his mouth? His expression held a gleeful delight Braden had witnessed a few times before, beginning with the boy who’d broken the bird’s wing to force Braden to heal it.

A sick feeling surged within Braden. “Alec, come inside so we might aid you.” He reached toward him, only to have Monroe jerk him back.

Alec cried out at the jarring motion, still cradling his arm. Had Monroe broken it? Alec’s small movement revealed that Monroe held a knife pointed at the boy’s side. A broken bone wasn’t the only part of Alec’s body that pained him.

“Your squire and I had a chat. But he refused to answer my questions with anything but lies. I don’t appreciate being lied to.”

“The boy is no concern of yours,” Braden warned, easing closer. “He serves me.”

“Release him at once,” Ilisa demanded.

“I think not.” A smile played about Monroe’s lips. Clearly, he enjoyed having the upper hand.

“Do you intend to shove him down the stairs as you did to me?” Ilisa asked.

“Ah.” Monroe nodded. “I thought perhaps you’d remembered what had happened. Last eve. During the dancing.”

Braden wanted to keep Monroe talking until he could think of some way to free Alec without the steward causing him further harm.

“If you remembered that,” Monroe continued, “then you’ve realized your friendship with Lady Arabela is not welcome.”

“We’re leaving. What difference does it make whether we’ve become friends?” Ilisa’s body quivered beside Braden’s.

“Friends offer sympathy and give advice. We wouldn’t want her to suddenly think she has a choice in her future. However, none of that matters with what I’ve discovered about your husband.”

Braden braced himself, wishing the steward wasn’t going to say what Braden knew was coming.

“What on earth are you speaking about?” Ilisa put enough derision in her tone to have Monroe glaring at her before he returned his attention to Braden.

“Think of the boon your ability will be to Lord Graham.” The steward’s eyes gleamed with a strange light. “No one will doubt whomever he chooses as the future King of Scotland will be the right person with you at his side. ’Twill be a sign from heaven no one can ignore.”

“I won’t be at his side,” Braden said.

“But first I need you to perform a small test,” Monroe continued as though Braden hadn’t spoken. “I saw Lady Cairstine on the floor after I’d pushed her. And I checked her. Her leg was broken in more than one place. She’d struck her head. When I heard you coming, I hid.”

“You’re the one who turned her over.” The rage Braden felt at someone having found her but done nothing to aid her returned, causing him to clench his fist.

“I thought she’d be dead. But nay. She still breathed. It would’ve been so much simpler if she’d died. At least for me. But now I see ’twas all for a greater purpose.”

If it weren’t for Monroe’s knife pointed at Alec, Braden would’ve killed the man where he stood. He needed to set aside his anger so he could think of a plan to save the three of them.

“Imagine my surprise to hear the lady was walking and talking the next day. How had this miracle come to pass? When I told Lord Graham of what had occurred, he didn’t believe me. I need you to prove it for me. That will return me to his good graces. Especially when he understands the gift I’m giving him. Of you.”

“You make no sense,” Braden said. “Release the boy. He has nothing to do with this.”

Monroe gave Alec a little shake, causing him to whimper. “Oh, but he does now.”

“How?” Braden asked. He could see no way to gain Alec’s freedom without endangering him.

As though sensing Braden’s urge, Monroe took a step back, jerking Alec with him. “Stay where you are and listen carefully. You will meet me in the great hall to show Graham your amazing ability. If you refuse, I will be forced to continue breaking this boy’s bones until there are none left to break. Then I’ll start carving him up. Or is it only bones you can fix?”

“Nay!” Ilisa cried out as she rushed toward her brother.

Braden grabbed her to hold her back. “I have no ‘amazing ability’ to show you or your lord. I cannot help you. Release Alec so we can take him to your healer. She is the one with a gift.”

Monroe only laughed. “You and I know the truth. Meet me in the great hall anon.”

“Alec,” Ilisa cried, trying to pull free from Braden, but he held her tight.

Monroe drew Alec backward so he could watch Braden until they were a fair distance away before they turned toward the keep, moving quickly out of sight.

“Why didn’t you do something?” Ilisa demanded, tears running down her cheeks as she turned to face Braden. “You let him take my brother.”