Page 21 of Warrior’s Lady

Orrin shrugged. "You've managed to bring Lady Violet here. The guards and I will be watchful. She is safe in this castle."

Camden clapped Orrin on the shoulder. "Thank you, my friend. I am in your debt."

Orrin smiled, his earlier stiffness gone. "That is true, and I am keeping tally of just how much."

The tension in Camden's neck eased as they fell into an easy banter that had seen them through their youth. Camden opened the door and stepped into the foyer outside the great hall.

"With me watching our two suspicious residents, whatever will you do to keep yourself occupied?" Orrin smiled.

Camden's thoughts immediately darkened. "I best go see what our uninvited guest is up to."

Orrin's teasing smile widened. "Truly? Is it that unpleasant?"

Camden frowned, his mood only further darkened at Orrin's taunts. "I'll let you know."

"Where are your ambitions, boy?" Mistress Berwick chided her son from her sickbed. She struggled to sit up, but a spasm of coughing sent her back down to the pillow.

Bishop Berwick brought her a sip of water from the pitcher at her bedside. "Drink this, Mother. It will help." Only because he'd laced it with juice of the poppy.

She drank from the cup, and with frail hands, handed it back to him. "We need to plan. We need to come up with a way to get the Charm Stone away from whoever has it now. It has to be with Camden Lockhart. Where else would that woman have sent her precious Stone?"

The bishop set the cup on the bedside table with a smooth grace, despite the anger that seethed inside him. "You are sick, Mother. No planning today."

She scowled at him. "I am not sick. God would never punish me that way. I am the mother of a great bishop, a holy man."

The muscles of his neck clenched at her continued ranting. When would the tisane kick in? "Even holy men get sick, Mother."

"Nay," she said in a less forceful tone as her eyelids, flicked closed once, then twice. "God would never strike me down," she mumbled.

Soon she would slip into a blessed sleep and he wouldn't have to hear her lectures any longer. Did she not think he wanted to be the next Archbishop of Glasgow? Did she not see what he had done, the horrible things he had been forced to do, to show to her that, aye, he did have ambition after all?

He wanted to make her proud. But even more, he wanted the power the office of the archbishop would give to him. He deserved it.

Finally the woman sighed. A moment later her soft snores filled the room. He frowned down at her sleeping body. When had that flush of pink spots appeared upon the flesh of her neck and chest? His frowned deepened. He should never have allowed her to journey to the Isle of Iona to see her sister with only a maid to support her. The maid had stayed behind when she'd suddenly fallen ill. Did his mother suffer the same illness now? Unlike his mother, he did believe God was capable of sending illness their way. A purification of sorts to keep them humble.

They were vulnerable. Except if they had the Stone. The bishop felt a flush of warmth move through him. The Charm Stone could cure his mother as well as secure for him the very ambitions he sought.

His excitement faded. He used the Ruthvens to crush James, but still one obstacle stood in his way. Camden Lockhart. Somehow he had to find a way to remove the man. Then he would take the mystical stone for himself and become a man of miracles. A holy man unlike any other the Church council had ever seen.

He could have everything he'd always wanted — power and status. He twisted back to the bed. His mother's soft snores filled the silence. And his mother would finally have the son she had always wanted.

If only he could get his hands on the Charm Stone.

Camden searched the entire castle and grounds for Violet and Rhiannon. At first, he had been annoyed that they had managed to elude him. Now, nearly two hours later, the muscles of his stomach knotted with panic. Where were they? The only place he had not checked was the orchard, and beyond that the fields outside the castle walls.

He nearly ran through the outer bailey to the orchard drawing more than a few curious stares as he went. He threw the gate open, ready to call out Violet's name when he saw the blanket on the ground. At the edge of the blanket lay two embroidery frames, one with stitching, the other blank. But still Violet and Rhiannon were nowhere in sight. Camden searched through the rows of dormant trees. The branches were showing signs of burgeoning into their spring growth. When he spotted two familiar shapes in the distance, Camden expelled a sigh of relief. They were safe after all his worry.

Rhiannon wore the same gray dress she had arrived in yesterday. His niece however, looked like a springtime nymph dressed in a gown that in the sunlight appeared more purple than blue. He frowned. The color of the fabric made him pause. He'd seen that color somewhere before. And he was almost certain Violet had not arrived with anything more than the clothes on her back.

And what in heaven's name were they doing? With their backs to him he could not see them clearly. He hastened across the orchard.

Rhiannon pulled her arm back. An instant later, an arrow arched through the air. The tip imbedded in a wooden post not far enough from Violet to suit him. Camden made a sound low in his throat and raced forward. Had he been wrong about allowing Rhiannon to stay? Would she harm his niece just as her family had done to James and Clara?

Each step he took seemed to take forever. Horror chilled his blood when Rhiannon drew another arrow from her quiver. She aligned her bow, pulled it back. He rammed into her. She gasped. The bow veered off into the distance, away from Violet.

The force of his blow knocked Rhiannon off her feet. He carried her with him as he hit the ground, rolling her to the side.

"I trusted you," he said when he could draw breath.