DIANA WENT TO check on Kinley, who was visiting with Lady Gordon and her son, and then came downstairs to join Lachlan, Raen, and the McDonnel guards, who were meeting with Laird Gordon in his great hall. She still chafed over the fact that she had been unable to get a straight answer out of Eamus, or her husband, but the cop in her wouldn’t stop until she had some answers.

In the hall Gordon’s guards flanked two scruffy-looking men in chains, who smelled like old seaweed and stood with their shoulders hunched before Lachlan and Gordon. As she went to her husband, she caught their scandalized stares at the trews and tunic she wore, and smiled a little. She never tired of rattling the ever-chauvinistic mortal Scots.

“These two were just brought in,” Raen murmured to her. “They’ve told a tale that no’ even I can make out.”

“Let me fathom this proper,” the laird was saying to Gordon while eyeing the men. “You free traders claim that you saw a slaver ship attacking a merchant boat, boarding it, and then sailing off with nothing taken and no throats cut. Yet the merchant captain didnae report such an attack. No slaver has been seen on the north coast. We’ve only the word of you honest, trustworthy lads that it ever happened.”

Raen cleared his throat. “Sampling that Flanders wine a bit too freely before bringing the bottles ashore to hide, mayhap?”

“Maybe,” Diana said as she studied the smugglers’ sweaty, fearful faces, and felt a tingle from her sixth serious trouble sense. “They look more like whiskey drinkers to me. Probably brought their own hooch along for the trip, my lord.” She grinned at them. “Wonder why they’re hauling untaxed wine. Isn’t that illegal?”

“No’ terribly, Mistress,” Gordon said.

He glanced at the older smuggler, who was glaring at Diana.

“What is it, man?” Gordon said.

“The wench wears men’s clothes,” the smuggler muttered. “’Tisnae natural. Be she a witch?”

“Nope, sorry,” Diana said and loomed over him. “I be a cop. That means if you give the lairds a hard time, I beat the snot out of you.” She watched him cringe as she regarded his younger comrade, who looked more as if he wanted to share. She switched to good-cop mode. “All right. Tell us more about this slaver ship. What did it look like?”

“’Twas black as goose blood sausage, Mistress,” he said eagerly. “’Twere painted with pitch, and fit with woad-dyed sails. Like a demon’s boat was my notion, first time I spied her. No’ one lantern light on her, neither.”

Raen shook his shaggy dark head. “Raiders sail without lights, and pitching the lower hull avoids leaks.”

“’Twasnae just that, Master,” the younger smuggler said. “The slaver pitched her from stem to stern, and she had no portholes ’tall. Two day past she dropped anchor just outside our cove, barring our route, so we rowed out part way to have a better look at her. We couldnae see the cargo, for every inch of her were boarded over.”

Lachlan froze. “The fack you say. Wood nailed over the portholes?”

“Aye, milord, and every other opening we could spy. I told Brenan ’tweren’t right, keeping those wretched traills chained below decks with no light or fresh air.” The younger man gave Gordon a keen look. “’Twas why we came straightaway to you, milord, without notion of any reward ’tall.”

“This country has such upstanding criminals,” Diana drawled as she glanced at her husband. “Undead using ships would explain why we’ve been seeing only small patrols on land. The rest of them could be scooting around on these light-tight boats.”

“Do you mean they’re no’ slavers?” The younger man grew excited. “Are they the new raiders from the east, or the Sassenachs, bent on enslaving us?”

“We need to find this black ship,” Diana told him. “Which direction did they sail from your cove?”

“Naught,” the older smuggler said. “’Tis like I told ye, Mistress. They’ve been anchored there two day now.” He scanned their faces. “The facking boat’s still in our cove.”

“Undead crews cannae sail by day,” Raen murmured to Lachlan, who nodded. “But why would they wait?”

“They’re not dropping off,” Diana guessed. “They’re picking up.”

“That will be all, thank you,” Gordon said and gestured to his guards, who swiftly removed the two smugglers. To Lachlan he said, “Ermindale had most of the northern slave trade before the king declared it unlawful. He had a goodly fleet of slavers to boot. The boat could be one of his.”

Diana watched the laird walk over to a map on Gordon’s wall, which showed the ports and harbors of the northern coast.

“After the battle at the marquess’s estate,” she said to Raen, “the clan found the bodies of Ermindale’s entire family, murdered in the solar. But the laird wasn’t among them.”

“We assumed he was taken captive by the legion,” her husband reminded her, and then lost his smile. “What is it?”

Diana held up one finger. “An old man like Ermindale wouldn’t have lasted long as a two-legged blood bank.” She raised another. “The legion is infantry and cavalry, not navy.” She added a third finger. “The legion knew exactly which nobles to abduct in order to put pressure on the king’s men, and yet they never tried to abduct them before they took over the marquess’s estate.”

His brows drew together. “You believe a noble like Ermindale helped the legion?”

“I think he was a vengeful, slave-trading jackass, so hell yeah,” she admitted. “According to everyone he was pretty ancient, too. Just imagine if he offered Quintus Seneca a nice trade. Say, a whole bunch of slaves to turn into fresh troops, plus all those ships no one would suspect them of using, in exchange for immortality.”

Raen touched his brow to hers. “You are a truly canny wench.”

Diana went and repeated her theory to the lairds, and while at first Lachlan seemed skeptical, Gordon immediately seized on it.

“My wife and Ermindale’s youngest daughter attended the same convent school,” the young laird said. “Before she was killed she wrote to Lady Gordon and said that her father had fallen ill with gut rot. He wouldnae have lived out the month.”

Diana glanced at Gordon’s bodyguard, who stood behind his laird and was watching the room. He was smirking, as if he were proud of his master, and then she knew why Raen had wanted to swear her to secrecy. But she had to put that thought aside.

“If we stake out the black ship tonight, my lord,” Diana said. “I bet we’ll find out why they’ve been attacking the merchants. With a little luck, we might even learn if the legion has a new stronghold.”

“Somewhere only reachable by water, I’ll wager,” Gordon said. As they all looked at him he smiled thinly. “’Twould be what I’d do.”

“You’ve a menacing mind behind that handsome face, lad,” Lachlan said and stared at the map for a long moment. “Whatever comes of this, I’ll no’ let her sail again. Once we’ve learned why she’s anchored, we take the ship before she can sail. We’ll ferret out what we can from the crew, and then torch her.”

Though Kinley decided to stay with the Gordons, Lachlan accompanied Diana and Raen as they left the stronghold. The laird took the lead and rode a short distance ahead of them.

Diana tugged on her husband’s sleeve.

“Hey, we’re going to take off any mortals we find on the ship before we set fire to it, right?”

“Aye, if any survive,” Raen said. “They’ll be imprisoned below decks with the undead. Once the legion awakes, they’ll feed on them as fast as they can. Blood makes them stronger.”

“Oh, no.” Diana felt her stomach knot. “You mean–”

He nodded. “If we wake the legion before we can get below deck, they’ll drain them dry.”