Page 32 of Highlander’s Lust

Wicked Conspiracy

“Sorley! She’s gone. Her ladyship has disappeared! The groom tells me she and Eby, her maid, left after the noon bell rang forth. Do ye have any idea to where they could have gone, man?”

Laird Brisbane stormed into his steward’s chambers like a man possessed. He was finding it hard to believe that not only one day ago, he had been holding his beloved wife in his arms, free to woo her to his bed and into his arms, eager to show her how wondrous love between a man and a woman could be...and now she was gone.

Sorley looked up from his ledgers. “I’ll send a rider along the road leading to her parents’ lodge, but why bother? It’s no’ as if the girl is in truth yer wife.” And then the steward calmly went back to scratching in the ledger with his quill.

A dreadful silence filled the room after Sorley’s cruelly dismissive statement. Laird Brisbane, only stopping to pull an errant wood splinter out of his bruised knuckles, approached the table on which Sorley’s industry was focussed.

“Did I no’ warn ye to never pursue that line of reasoning with me again?” he asked Sorley in a dangerously quiet voice.

The steward remained unmoved. Sighing impatiently, he put down his quill and faced Charlie.

“Don’ try to intimidate me, Charlie. Ye had the opportunity to change and make this work, but ye missed yer chance, cousin! The maiden bent over backwards to mold ye into a man, and for a while there, I thought it might work. But the minute yer auld friends show their faces, ye go fallin’ back into yer bad behavior. She’s right to make good her escape, an’ I wish ye luck getting her to return to this castle—a lairdly pile of stones that ye and yer ancestors have turned into yer own personal Babylon! Ye’re as weak as yer faither and an embarrassment to yer mither’s memory, God rest her soul!”

Laird Brisbane froze, but his tone did not change.

“Ye sound almost pleased at how events have unfolded, Sorley. But, seeing as I am still laird of this ancient lairdly pile o’ stones, I’ll thank ye to begin packing yer trunks and leave it. I will brook no mutinous thoughts under me roof, and I see ye have plenty of them to spare.”

Sorley ignored him and went to the corner of the room to pull the bell rope. Then he continued speaking as if Laird Brisbane had said nothing.

“Yer mither was the most beautiful lady in all the land, Charlie, an’ she was treated in the same manner by yer faither, Ramsay, as ye have treated Jean. Drunken wretches, the pair o’ ye! After her death, I swore her vengeance would be mine to take! Which, in due course, I did. Poison works marvels when ye slip it into a drunkard’s cup. True to his beastly nature, yer faither tried to mount the maid, Bess Morley, and died on the job. If they had opened up his fat corpse, they would have found all the proof they needed for poisoning, but no one bothered. They were happy to see him die, Charlie, just like yer men are happy to see ye go.”

Laird Brisbane took a step closer. “Say that again, ye blackguard, I dare ye!”

Sorley smirked. “Och, please, get awa’ with ye.” He waved a lazy hand in Charlie’s direction. “Bess Morley was the one who put it in his cup. I paid her well to do it too. That wench was as shrewd as she can hold together.”

Laird Brisbane said through gritted teeth, “Nay, the part about me men being happy to see me go.”

The steward grinned. “Aye, the younger men-at-arms want ye gone, Charlie. Then don’ respect a man who cavorts with harlots when he has not even gotten ‘round to impregnating his wife yet! When I told them ye had nae even taken the girl’s maidenhead yet, they were outraged. I’ll give ye the truth with no skin on it.” Sorley began ticking off the items on his fingers. “Ye gave the Macanroy gold afore ye slept with his daughter; ye failed to join yer body with hers; and—yer crowning achievement—ye make another woman pregnant afore ye made yer wife so. It would have been remiss of me no’ to stir the pot after ye gave me such a rich porridge as that to eat!”

Charlie gave a bellow of rage, grabbed Sorley by his neatly starched collar, and punched him in the face. A fountain of blood burst out of the man’s nose, which then proceeded to turn purple and swell up tremendously.

The door opened to reveal four young men-at-arms. Sorley whispered, sotto voce, “I had my men waiting below for me summons, ye dolt. D’ye think I would nae protect meself from yer uncontrolled reaction?”

But all he said out loud into the room was, “Help! Help me! The laird attacked me when I told him he must face the judgment of his elders. Take him away, I beg ye, and dinnae listen to the man’s foolish rantings!”

The four men drew their swords and faced Laird Brisbane. It was a ticklish moment, fraught with death and danger, for the men knew their laird was capable of withdrawing the longsword that hung down his back; if he did, they knew Charlie would have no hesitation in killing all four of them with ease. He was a lethal swordsman, no matter how many men he was facing down.

Lucky for the men-at-arms, the fight seemed to leach out of Charlie as the enormity of what he had done sunk in. His shoulders slumped, and he approached them with his hands held out for the fetters. All he could think about was that now he would not be able to chase after Jean and beg her to return to the castle. Sorley was right after all; he had missed the chance to get his wife back.

The farmstead proved to be exceptionally comfortable and elegant, but Jean was too despondent and listless to notice. She sat slumped in the settle next to the fireplace in her chamber parlor, staring out of the window. The only sound she made was to give the occasional deep sigh.

Eby came into the room. She had been gone a good while, having done more than simply having a few words with her cousin in the kitchen.

“Cousin Matthew tells me ye are more than welcome to stay as long as ye like, me lady, but that’s no’ all the news I carry.”

Jean did not bother looking up. “Aye. What is it?” It was said more out of a willingness to be polite than a need to know.

“I rode into Carnachscallie, mistress, and have had words with some o’ the women who...work there.”

She got Jean’s attention with these words. “Indeed? Whatever did ye think to learn there? What did ye learn there?”

Eby gave a satisfied smile and sat down on a small ottoman stool next to Jean.

“I wish I had gone in sooner. I smelt a fish when ye told me about those scratches on his lairdship’s back!” Eby gave some thought to her words before she launched into her explanation. “Mistress, there is nay delicate way to tell ye this, but I’ll try me hardest. Y’see, when a man and woman love each other, they face each other. I ken ye have heard about the two-backed beast, and ‘tis made when a man lies on top of his wife, and they join together. Only this way is it possible for scratches to be made on a man’s back. Are ye following what I’m trying to say?”

Jean frowned but nodded to show she understood so far.

Eby smiled and patted Jean’s hand. “Good girl. Now, when a man visits a strumpet, he does nae lay down with her. He swives her from behind. The wench bends over, lifts her skirt, and they go to it like farmyard animals. I ken ye’ve seen it when a stallion mounts a mare. Nay chance of back scratches happening there!”

Jean said, “He—his lairdship, I mean—did mention as much.”

Eby was pleased to know that Laird Brisbane had also had his suspicions about the marks.

“Exactly, me lady! I went to that tavern, made me inquiries, and have discovered the truth. It was made all the more difficult to track her down because yer husband gave orders not so long ago for all the harlots to leave. But eventually, I was able to find the auld jade who snared poor drunk Laird Brisbane. I found out she had been paid by someone to scratch him! She was more than willing to spill her guts for the price of a bottle o’ cheap whisky. Once the drink had loosened her tongue, she told me that Charlie was too drunk to stand when she took him up to her bedchamber, and he passed out the moment he reached the bed. She removed his clothes and scratched his back with her filthy nails, making it look like they had made the sweetest love. But naught happened!”

Jean sat up straight, her doldrums forgotten after hearing this news. “But who? Who paid her?”

“Sorley Crosbie paid her to do it—auld Laird Ramsay’s cousin and yer husband’s steward!”