Page 84 of Her Highland Prophecy
“Do ye ken if he is in Faither’s chambers?” he asked.
“Aye,” Eleanor said. “He told me at breakfast that the bell-ringers were going out today so he was going to prepare the Laird’s affairs before the funeral in two days.”
“Verra well,” Gordain said. “Listen, ye three. Stay together and keep a knife on ye at all times. Someone already tried to kill me twice and I dinnae ken what they will do if they find out that they failed again. I dinnae want ye to be hurt.”
They all nodded, a shadow of fear on their faces. Gordain hated doing it, but he would rather they be afraid than dead, and whoever was after him had shown that they had no scruples.
He was almost certain that it was Jaimie, smug bampot that he was, but he did not want to say anything to them yet. He wondered if Tamas had been able to uncover any information.
“Is yer husband in the Castle?” he asked Eleanor, who shook her head. He frowned. It would have been safer if he were.
“Gather the bairns, stay close to each other and daenae separate.”
He left them together in the room, and then used the least frequented halls he could find until he reached the Laird’s chambers. He opened the door and crept inside. Bhaltair was already there, his head bent over the Clan’s books. He looked up when he heard the door open and gaped at Gordain.
The surprised look that everyone was getting on their face was quickly becoming old.
Bhaltair eventually found his voice.
“Gordain! Ye are alive!” he exclaimed his voice laced with relief and shock. “How? We were told that—”
“Ye were told wrong, Bhaltair.”
His cousin stood and walked around the table to clap him on the back.
“I want to hear this story, whatever it is,” he said and then closed the door.
So Gordain told him everything. The attempt on his life during the hunt, the threatening letter, Diana’s poisoning and the relative peace before they sent an assassin after him and killed his father.
“They want the Clan,” Bhaltair said grimly when Gordain finished speaking. “There is nae other reason for someone to do all of this.”
“Aye,” Gordain confirmed. “The man who tried to kill me said as much. And I am sorry to tell ye, but I think that it is yer brother who is behind it all.”
“That wouldnae surprise me,” Bhaltair said grimly. “Jaimie has always been...difficult. And he has disagreed with the way that yer Faither ran things for years.”
Gordain nodded. This was not news to him. Jaimie’s dislike was well-known throughout the Clan.
“Where is he?”
“I dinnae ken,” Bhaltair said. “He was in the Castle when yer Faither died, but he left me a letter saying that he had to take care of some things back home and that he would return after that to take his position as Laird.”
“Do ye still have the letter?”
“Aye.”
Bhaltair handed it over and Gordain could tell with a glance that it was the same person who had written the note he had found on his bed. He and Jaimie had not had cause to correspond in many years and the hand was unfamiliar to him.
“It is the same,” he said, looking up to face his cousin. “Jaimie was the one who tried to have me killed.”
Bhaltair sat back with a sigh.
“I didnae think he could do something such as this,” he said after a minute. “I kent that he was ambitious and he and the Laird had argued many a time, but to kill him…and then to send someone to kill ye as well! It goes beyond simple hatred.”
Gordain nodded. He would have used much stronger words to describe what Jaimie’s behavior was, but he was also Bhaltair’s brother and he did not want to cause any more hurt to the man who had been as good as a brother to him.
“So what do we do now?” Bhaltair asked.
“We plan Faither’s funeral,” Gordain answered. “Eleanor said that Jaimie would nae return on time, so anything else can wait.”
