Page 53 of A Temptress in Tartan

“And what was the desired outcome?”

“That her fever would reduce and then she might recover completely.”

The Lord Advocate’s gaze narrowed. “Did you at any time chant over this woman in order to calm her, unbaptize her, or cause the Devil to take over her soul?”

“Nay. If there was any dialogue whatsoever, it was with Jane Wenham about how to further care for Mistress Broun when my wife and I departed the inn, which we did shortly after Mistress Broun’s fever seemed to abate.”

The Lord Advocate set his papers on the table before him and straightened. “Bessie Broun, please come forward to the witness box and tell this court what you remember about that day.”

The redheaded woman he remembered as Bessie Broun came forward and stepped into the witness box. Her features were strained and her face pale as she stood before the tribunal judges. The friendly smile she had worn so effortlessly while he and Elizabeth visited the inn had vanished. Instead of looking at Lachlan, she gazed at her feet.

“Tell the tribunal, Mistress Broun, was there anything unusual that happened between the time Lachlan Douglas arrived at your inn and when he left?” the Lord Advocate prompted when she remained silent.

She grasped her trembling hands before her. “’Twas a fairly normal day fer me and the girls, cleanin’ and cookin’ fer the guests and fer travelers passin’ by.”

“Other than Douglas, were there any other unusual guests?”

Her frightened gaze darted to the back of the room, then back to her feet. “Two other men came in that evenin’ and ate supper. They came in, ate, and left in a hurry.” She shrugged. “Nae unusual fer travelers who have places tae be before nightfall.”

“Do you remember becoming ill?”

She nodded. “It was shortly after the two men left.”

A rumble of conversation broke out throughout the chamber.

“Did you at any time, while Lachlan Douglas was at your inn, feel threatened by him? Coerced into doing anything you did not want to do?”

Mistress Broun drew a shaking breath and looked up. “I was not myself when he supposedly gave me the potion. But Jane assures me he was only tryin’ tae help when I fell ill.”

“Are you now possessed by the Devil, Mistress Broun? Is he the one guiding your tongue? Because shortly after the incident happened, you gave a statement saying Lachlan Douglas had cast an enchantment over you. Are you recanting your statement?” The Lord Advocate’s face reddened.

“Nay! I . . .” Mistress Broun turned a ghostly white. “I was paid tae give that testimony,” she said, her voice trembling, “by the same man who returned as soon as m’laird and milady left the inn. There’s nae Devil inside me. I was ill. I couldna work in my state, and an offer of coins was too hard tae resist.”

Waves of shocked disbelief rippled through the chamber. And Lachlan breathed his first easy breath since his arrest as the questioning turned in his favor.

“Who was this man? Do you know him?”

She shook her head. “As I said, I was ill, and nae myself. Maybe Jane or Meg could tell ye more. They were with me when he returned.”

“Thank you, Mistress Broun, you may step down.” He paused to let her return to her seat before he said, “Jane and Meg Wenham, please come forward.”

The two young blonde-haired women advanced. Meg, the older of the two, took her sister’s hand in her own as they stepped into the witness box and faced the tribunal judges.

“What was your experience with Lachlan Douglas? Did you at any time feel threatened or as though he was there to steal your souls?”

In a quiet voice, Jane said, “Nay, good sir, m’laird was only very kind tae me, tae us, while he was there.”

“Speak up, young women,” the king interrupted. “We cannot hear you.”

Jane startled. She clutched her sister’s hand more firmly before continuing in a louder voice. “He asked me tae help him make the tonic, and showed me how tae boil the elderflower and peppermint. ’Twas all that was in the mixture, I promise ye. He even offered tae help me with some trainin’ in the healing arts by findin’ me a teacher.”

“You testified that Lachlan Douglas had used magical chants to take over Bessie Broun’s soul.”

The two girls looked at each other, then darted a glance at the innkeeper and his wife before saying, “Must we say anything on that account? It could jeopardize our future.”

“Aye, you must,” the Lord Advocate stated. “If you do not answer my questions, I might be forced to use more forceful means of gaining your cooperation.”

John Swinton smiled his pleasure.