The kitchen portal slammed with vigor but a heartbeat after Brianna and Ruarke disappeared into the hall. Burke strode across the bailey, oblivious to anyone or anything in his path. Luc glanced up and acknowledged that he had never seen his brother so angered.
Then Gavin erupted in his favored son’s wake, his fist shaking in the air as he hobbled out into the bailey. “Go then! Go! You are no son of mine, Burke de Montvieux!”
“Fine!” Burke bellowed with a defiance Luc had never before witnessed in him. Luc’s eyes widened and he, along with most of the household, straightened to watch the exchange. “ ’Tis a shame I cannot purge the taint of your blood from my very veins!”
Gavin looked fit to explode and his face reddened dangerously. He pointed his finger after Burke. “I shall reclaim all of your holdings! I shall see that you do not inherit Montvieux! I shall lay claim to every coin that ever you have won if you do not return this very moment—on your knees, chevalier—and apologize.”
Burke pivoted and propped his hands on his hips as he glared back at his sire. “Take it and welcome!” he roared. “The price of your favor is too high!”
Luc blinked in astonishment. He had never seen his brother angry; he certainly had never suspected Burke would defy their father. But Burke swivelled and stalked to the stables with nary a backward glance. Gavin seemed sufficiently stunned that he fell silent, even while the assembly burst into excited chatter.
A jingle of trap announced Burke’s return but a few moments later. He rode his black destrier out of the stables, heading directly for the gates with nary a glance to either side. Luc noted his brother had loaded no saddlebags and left with only his garb, his blade, and his steed.
He looked again. ’Twas unthinkable that Burke spurned Gavin’s approval.
But that was precisely what Burke did.
Gavin hastened forward and raised his voice to a bellow. “If you leave this place without seeking a fit gift for the princess, I shall never speak with you again!”
Burke spat on the stones of the bailey. “There is a loss in my life!” he retorted.
While Gavin sputtered, Burke touched his spurs to his steed and rode through the gates, apparently oblivious to the storm behind him. Luc marvelled that patient, dutiful Burke had finally been pushed too far.
“I shall see you destroyed!” Gavin raged too late to be heard by his departing son. “I shall see you penniless!” He jumped up and down in his impotence. “I shall see you unwelcome in any keep in Christendom!”
But Burke was gone.
’Twas but a moment later that Gavin realized the truth. He wandered to the gate like a man in a daze and stared down the unfurling road.
Hoofbeats faded from earshot, yet Gavin still stood, staring through the gaping gate. He was clearly stunned by this development. Finally, he slumped to sit on the outside of the gatehouse.
The gossip in the bailey erupted with a vengeance. If his father intended to await Burke’s return, Luc had a feeling Gavin would be waiting a very long time.
Connor of Tullymullagh had not only witnessed the fleeting wonder on his daughter’s visage when her laughter faded, but he guessed the import of that look. Aye, Brianna resembled her dame strongly in that moment, and Connor recalled well enough what Eva had had in mind when she turned that soft-eyed glance upon him.
It had always been followed by a confession of the most sentimental kind.
And Brianna had turned that glance upon Gavin’s eldest son.
Connor watched Luc assessingly, the pair’s heated exchange echoing in his ears. The younger man was sorely wounded by Brianna’s denial of his pledge, though he fought to hide the truth.
Aye, there was passion aplenty between those two, that much could not be denied. Their very confrontation made Connor feel young again, sending a recollection of the early misunderstandings he and Eva had shared.
Aye, in those days, he had been a man of war, unable to tell a fine lady exactly what troubled his heart. In time, Eva had taught him much—and she had learned to read what Connor dared not put into words.
But on the way, there had been battles aplenty. As painful as they were, the reconciliations—Connor’s smile broadened—the reconciliations were nearly worth the price.
Connor knew Brianna had found her one true love, even if she was not prepared to admit the truth as yet. He liked well that the man in question was one of rare honor. He had noted Luc’s intercession for Ruarke, noted his resolve in both denying to follow Brianna’s will and in defying his own sire.
No wonder Brianna had not laughed at Burke’s pups. Stubborn child. His lips curved with affection, Connor took a step farther into the orchard, lending chase to the man who would govern Tullymullagh in his stead. Connor realized as he walked that this Luc had labored to save these forgotten trees and his heart swelled a thousand-fold.
Eva’s dream was being restored. Tullymullagh would prosper beneath Luc’s hand, Brianna would bear sons to make the hall ring with laughter.
Connor’s smile broadened. “You will be good tonic for her,” he charged softly when he reached the younger man.
Luc merely shrugged and frowned. “With all due respect, that seems unlikely, sir.”
But his gaze trailed tellingly to the portal.
“Aye? How so?”
Luc nodded toward the keep. “Her heart, it seems, is securely held by your former champion.” His lips thinned. “ ’Tis not my place to steal what he has fairly won.”
“Nay,” Connor said with resolve. “Brianna does not love Ruarke.” He enjoyed Luc’s surprise.
“But she must. She chose to leave with him.”
Connor shook his head. “I know Brianna enough to know she was but startled.” He leaned against a tree and ran his hand over its pruned bough. “You have labored long here. The trees have not had such good care in years.”
Luc strode closer, his brow as dark as thunder. “What do you mean that she was startled?”
Connor met the younger man’s gaze. “I saw her eyes and I know my daughter well. She does not love Ruarke, though there were times when I wished heartily that she would.”
Luc held Connor’s gaze for a long moment. “But she protested long.”
Connor scoffed. “And this surprises you?” He let a smile spread over his face and clicked his tongue. “I thought you knew her better than that!”
Luc chuckled and shoved a hand through his hair. Connor watched, liking how that man’s resolve dawned anew. “You are certain?”
“She did not intend to laugh,” Connor said firmly. “I have no doubt of that. And she is but learning to accept that all cannot go her way.” He shrugged. “ ’Tis my own fault for indulging her, I suppose, but you already have taught her a great deal. She cares for you, Luc Fitzgavin, and your pledge won you much. Do not blame Brianna for being startled that all happened with such haste.”
Luc heaved a sigh and shook his head. “She fooled me,” he admitted and Connor chuckled.
“ ’Tis the way of women everywhere,” he confided easily, the pair sharing a grin. Connor straightened and looked the younger man in the eye. “Pursue her, Luc, pursue Brianna as you intended, and she will be your own.” Connor tapped Luc on the shoulder. “I know it well, just as I know that the match will be a good one.”
Luc smiled. “I thank you for the encouragement, sir,” he said firmly and flicked a glance to the keep. “I shall heed your counsel.”
“Good!” Connor wagged a finger. “Leave her this day that she might ponder what has happened. By this eve, I have no doubt that she will receive you.”
Luc bowed slightly. “I thank you again, sir.”
Connor liked the gleam of determination that lit the younger man’s eye. Aye, Luc Fitzgavin was a man Connor could respect, a man who would ensure Brianna’s happiness, a man who would protect and cherish her like none other.
And this was a man who deserved to know the truth about the Rose of Tullymullagh. Connor blinked at the realization. ’Twas Brianna’s legacy, after all, and that of the children these two would bring to light.
And ’twas time Connor told someone of his secret.
Connor frowned at the household still lingering around the orchard, then bent close to Luc. “Come early to the board this night,” he counselled. “There is a tale you deserve to know if you will take my daughter to wife.”
“I should be honored to enjoy your confidence, sir.” And Luc bowed low.
Connor could not help but smile, all was being resolved so well. Eva would have taken to this man, he was certain of it.
’Twas on his way back to the keep that Connor had a sudden thought. He glanced to the gates, and the despondent Gavin still sat there.
And if Gavin sat outside the gates, then the solar would be vacant.
The chapel could be Connor’s alone.
Aye, he would give thanks for all that had come his—and Brianna’s—way in this, he would give thanks that his sole child was destined to repeat her parents’ happiness. He would whisper to Eva of what had happened, of his hopes for the future, for ’twas there that Connor felt closest to her.
’Twas no small gift to know that Brianna would be secure and happy for all her days. Eva must be told. Connor’s steps quickened in anticipation. He must make haste!
But Connor was not the only one seizing the opportunity to be alone in the lord’s private chapel.
Brianna restlessly poked at the accounts Uther had laid before her. Ruarke’s demand on her time had been shortlived, for he had abandoned her to her labor, pleading some errand or another, as soon as they entered the hall. Brianna would have enjoyed a measure of Fenella’s cheerful company, but the maid must be back in the kitchens again.
Truly, Brianna would have to have a word with the maid and discourage such unseemly habits. ’Twas well enough for a maid to chatter, but Fenella’s sire expected her to learn the decorum of a lady of the manor.
As Brianna should be doing. She sighed and eyed the parchment, unable to shake the image of Luc pledging to win her heart. Just the recollection made her heart pound wildly.
Could he do it?
Could Brianna win Luc’s heart in return?
Could the love she had long desired truly be so close at hand?
She picked up the quill and examined the ledger before her, wishing she were better with tallies. The accounts had proven to be the greatest challenge of administration and the one Brianna liked least.
This ledger was not likely to distract her on this day. ’Twas part of her education, but Brianna always erred in the addition.
That, indeed, was why Uther insisted she continue doing it. Brianna grimaced at the ledger but the numbers did not tally of their own accord.
She thought once more of Luc, butterflies dancing in her belly at the thought of wedding him. She admitted to herself that the man’s kisses were tempting beyond all and indulged herself in wondering what proceeded from there.
’Twas all a secret of the marital bed, Brianna knew well, though she did not know specifics. Indeed, she had never truly wondered while her mother was alive. She had not wondered until Luc awakened her with his kiss.
And now, there was no one to ask.
“My lady,” Uther chided, interrupting her daydreams. “Have you not yet completed this simple task?”
“Nay, Uther, not yet.”
The steward clicked his tongue. “You desired to know of this labor, my lady,” he reminded her sternly, “and balanced ledgers are a critical ingredient in any well-administered household.”
“Aye, Uther.” Brianna dutifully bent over the ledger once more. Uther left her at work, but ’twas not to be long before her calculations were interrupted once more.
The chapel was dark, but Connor knew the way well enough for he had come this way a thousand times. He counted the steps as he climbed the narrow stairs. He lifted his lantern high as he stepped into the chapel proper.
But instead of sighing with pleasure, Connor gasped at the sight before his eyes.
Two figures, masked yet familiar for all of that, spun to confront him. Connor’s hand trembled in outrage and the flame of his lantern shook when he saw the damage they had wrought in this sacred place.
“You!” he cried angrily, pointing at one. “And you!” Connor pointed to the other as he stepped into the middle of the chapel and drew himself up to his full height. He glared at them both. “What …?”
’Twas the last word that Connor had the chance to utter. The first blow took him so by surprise that he fell to his knees, dazed. He blinked at the floor but once before a second blow landed across his back and sent him tumbling.
He looked up through the haze of his pain, unable to understand what had gone awry.
And someone, someone whom Connor had long trusted, kicked the old king in the face. He tasted his own blood, then felt the keen edge of a blade as ’twas buried in his side. He caught his breath as the blade was savagely driven deeper and pain flooded through him.
Then Connor of Tullymullagh knew no more.
“Stubborn fools and blundering asses!” Gavin pronounced from the portal, his booming voice enough to make Brianna forget her sum. Gavin shook his fist when he saw he had caught each and every eye. “I am surrounded on all sides! I have had my fill of the lot of you.”
Before anyone troubled to voice similar feelings for his presence, Gavin jabbed a finger toward a scullery lad making his way between the trestle tables. “You! Bring my meal to the solar. Now!”
The boy yelped in terror and ran for the kitchens. Uther’s lips set in a disapproving line and Brianna frowned, even as she bent over the accounts once more.
She would have to begin this cursed tally again.
’Twas not long before Gavin’s outraged bellow carried from far above, interrupting Brianna’s addition yet again. Yet ’twas not the anger they had all come to associate from Gavin that made every head in the hall snap up for the second time in close succession.
’Twas the uncharacteristic echo of horror. Gavin roared again and the assembly was on their feet in collective alarm, their gazes fixed at the top of the stairs.
“By the saints above, what has possessed the man now?” Uther muttered. He straightened and headed briskly for the stairs.
Brianna had a sudden foreboding that naught good had transpired. She slammed the ledger closed and was quick on Uther’s heels, wanting to see the truth with her own eyes.
Evidently she was not the only one with such a thought, for the entire household was immediately behind her—their feet pounding on the wooden stairs, their uncertainty tangible.
The door to the solar was unlatched and the party surged through to the next flight of stairs, Uther and Brianna leading the way. To the surprise of all, Gavin was not in the solar proper, but a shuffle from above revealed his presence in the chapel.
“Like as not, he has had an epiphany,” Uther commented beneath his breath and headed for those stairs.
Brianna trotted right behind him, her sense of foreboding growing with every step. She could not imagine Gavin in the chapel for any good reason at all.
The man did not strike her as a religious sort.
Gavin stood at the summit, his features oddly smeared with black. He stared fixedly at the midst of the chapel floor, his expression dazed, and seemed unaware of their arrival.
Uther pushed Gavin forcibly aside, and Brianna gasped at the pool of blood spreading across the chapel floor. Then steward and daughter of the house simultaneously saw what had shocked Tullymullagh’s conqueror.
The broken body of Connor lay lifeless in the midst of that dark pool.
Brianna took one look and screamed. “Father!”
She fell on her knees beside his limp body, cradling his beloved head in her lap, touching his throat.
There was no reassuring murmur of his heart.
Nay! Brianna leaned over her father, desperate for some hint that he yet lived. She strained for the faintest whisper of his breath.
There was none.
Her vision clouded with tears and Brianna shook her head, unable to believe that he was gone, so suddenly and so completely. It could not be true. It could not be so.
’Twas all some cruel jest. It had to be. She could not permit it to be otherwise.
But the truth sprawled in her lap could not be denied. Brianna looked at Uther, still unable to make sense of what she knew to be true.
“He is dead,” she whispered unevenly. “Uther, he is dead.”
The steward turned on Gavin and fairly shoved that man down the stairs in his outrage. “How dare you commit such a sin in a holy place like this?”
“What is this you say?”
“Do not play the innocent with me!” Uther bellowed in a most uncharacteristic manner. “I have seen well enough the anger between you and my lord Connor! I have seen how deeply you resent his presence! I have seen how you would steal the smallest honor from him!”
Uther inhaled so sharply that his nostrils fairly pinched shut. His disgust was tangible. “But what manner of barbarian takes a man’s life in a place consecrated to God?!”
Brianna caught her breath and stared at her father’s pallid face in belated understanding. She had not considered the blood, though now she did.
Her father had been murdered.
In his own chapel.
Connor’s eyes were yet open, though even now their silvery hue dimmed. His features were frozen in an expression of mingled horror and pain. ’Twas the look of a man betrayed and once she realized it, Brianna could no longer look upon him.
A hard lump rose in her throat at her inevitable conclusion. Her sire had been killed by someone within his own household. Brianna’s chest tightened painfully. She looked at the faces of those already in the chapel and yet more crowding the stair.
Dermot, Fenella, Ruarke, Cook, everyone was present, every face was etched with anguish. Brianna heard the rustle of footsteps and knew that yet more lingered below.
Who could have done this thing?
Her gaze landed upon the adamantly protesting Gavin and Brianna knew there was accusation in her own eyes.
Father Padraig pushed his way through the group on the stairs, clucked his tongue in sharp disapproval, then fell to his knees beside Brianna. “The wrath of the Lord is onerous upon us these days,” he muttered darkly. “And the price of our sins runs high.”
Brianna blinked. “My father was no sinner.”
Father Padraig threw a stern glance her way. “We are all sinners, my lady, for we are born of sinful union between man and woman.”
Brianna bridled at the way this priest referred to her father. “But my sire—”
“Was filled with the deadly sin of pride, my lady,” Father Padraig declared with rare savagery. “Why else did he not abandon this solar willingly? Why else did he creep into the chapel that was his no longer? A chapel consecrated to God belongs to Him alone and no other. The Lord saw Connor’s sinfulness and smote him for it!”
“ ’Twas not the Lord who killed my lord Connor,” Uther interjected coldly. He glared at Gavin. “He had a most earthly agent for this wicked deed.”
“The hand of the Lord works in wondrous ways,” Father Padraig intoned.
As Brianna stared at him, stunned by his harsh words, the priest marked the cross upon Connor’s forehead and began to whisper last rites.
Gavin began defending himself vehemently. “I did not kill him! Why would I do such a thing? I have already conquered him and claimed all that was his own!”
“Except the loyalty of those around you,” Uther snapped. “Do you think we are witless fools? Who else had any reason to see this man dead?”
“I care naught for your loyalty!” Gavin protested hotly. “I tell you I was attacked when I came into the solar. Someone flung soot from the brazier into my eyes and rushed past me. I believe they were two.”
“Did you see their faces?” Uther demanded, taking no trouble to hide his skepticism.
“They were masked,” Gavin acknowledged, with no less defiance.
“Indeed!” Uther and Ruarke scoffed in unison and Gavin’s ears reddened. He had just opened his mouth to argue anew when a familiar voice carried from below.
“I beg your pardon, I must get through!”
Brianna caught her breath at the low resonance of Luc’s voice. There was a rustling on the stairs and suddenly he erupted at the summit, his brow dark with concern.
“My lady, why did you scream?” he demanded, his words fading as he spied Connor’s fallen figure. Luc paled, then pushed through the crowd. “How did this happen? Who is responsible?”
Ruarke stepped into his path, his face dark with anger. “Do not sully this place with your presence!” he spat.
Luc straightened and his eyes narrowed. “I thought all were welcome in the house of God,” he said with a glance around the chapel.
“Not those with murdering blood in their veins!”
“What is this?”
Uther was more than ready to enlighten Luc. “Your sire has ruthlessly slaughtered my lord Connor.”
“I did no such thing!” Gavin protested. “I told you all that he was dead when I arrived here! I told you the truth!”
“Aye, the truth of masked men who assaulted you and cannot be found,” Uther snapped and Ruarke rolled his eyes. “A likely tale.”
“But that is impossible,” Luc argued firmly. “Gavin could only have arrived here moments past.” All turned to eye Luc, their expressions confused.
“Aye.” Gavin nodded. “I came directly here from the gates, in no mood for the company of others, thanks to your faithless brother.”
“But Connor has been dead longer than that.” Luc pushed past Ruarke and bent to touch Connor’s cheek. He glanced over his shoulder to the others. “Look upon him! His flesh draws chill already. His color is gone.”
“You merely defend your own blood!” Ruarke charged angrily.
“Gavin was outside the gates until but moments past,” Luc countered. “You must have all seen him enter the hall.” A murmur of assent rolled through the group. “And look! There is no blood upon Gavin’s tabard, despite the amount scattered here, yet he wears the same garb he has worn all this day. And look upon this place—it has been ruthlessly vandalized.”
Brianna glanced around the chapel and belatedly saw the evidence of its attack. The table was dropped to its side, the altar cloth torn, the candles scattered. The crucifix was ripped from the wall and, indeed, it looked as though someone had pried at the planks of the floor.
Luc stood once more, folded his arms across his chest, and met Ruarke’s gaze in challenge. “I cannot imagine how Gavin could have been responsible for all of this, remained clean, smeared the soot on his own face, and summoned you all in such short order after his return. Of course, I can judge the timing only by Gavin’s return to the hall and the lady’s recent scream.”
Luc was right.
The household members began to chatter, agreement with Luc spreading quickly through their ranks. All the same, ’twas not a welcome revelation he brought. Aye, the one person she would have preferred to be guilty in this crime was one of two Brianna knew beyond doubt were innocent.
For Luc himself had only just returned to the keep.
Which meant every other achingly familiar face could be hiding a malice that had seen her own father slaughtered. The realization shook Brianna to the core and indeed, she began to tremble uncontrollably. She looked at her sire and wished he could somehow confide the truth to her, that this crime would not go unavenged.
But ’twas too late for that.
Brianna’s tears came to the fore once again. She was suddenly chilled to her very bones. Luc seemed to sense her dismay for he stepped forward. His brilliant blue gaze snared her attention as naught else could have done and Brianna let Luc lift her father from her arms. He lowered him gently to the floor, then closed his strong hands around Brianna’s own shoulders, urging her to her feet and toward the stairs.
’Twas good to have his strength to lean upon. Brianna was aware of naught but her heartache and the reassuring warmth of Luc’s grip.
“Fenella, take your mistress to the kitchens and have Cook conjure a large cup of mulled wine for her,” Luc instructed firmly. “Ensure that she drinks it and if it does not put her to sleep, then see that she has another.”
“Most sensible,” Uther concurred.
Luc’s expression turned doubly grim and his gaze bored into the maid. “And whatever you do, do not let the lady out of your sight for one single moment this day and night.”
Fenella bobbed her head. “Aye, sir.”
“Taking us all in hand, are you?” Ruarke demanded mockingly. “Do you mean to force yourself into the lordship, despite the opinion of all around you?”
Luc coldly looked that knight up and down. “The Lordship of Tullymullagh is the last matter of import now.”
Ruarke smirked. “Your disregard is touching, though unlikely.”
Luc straightened and treated Ruarke to a glare. “When a lady has need of aid,” he declared coldly, “a man of any rank should forget himself and bend his knee to her favor.” The knight reddened at the chastisement and looked as though he might argue the point, but Brianna did not care.
“Luc is right,” she said simply. “I will go.” Brianna took Fenella’s hand and followed her maid to the stairs, halting at the summit to look back at Luc. His eyes were still a vigorous sapphire and he was watching her with a concern that melted some of the numbness enfolding her.
“What will you do?” she asked.
“I will seek out Brother Thomas before he returns to Endlist,” he declared with reassuring authority. “Do not fret, my lady. All shall be set in order. Your father shall be tended immediately and we shall set to finding the one responsible for this travesty.”
“Aye,” Uther confirmed and Brianna did not miss the considering glance the steward tossed toward Luc. The assembly murmured approvingly of Luc’s sentiment and looked at him expectantly.
“Uther, is there a room where we might talk to each member of the household?” Luc asked. “ ’Tis possible that someone witnessed something that may aid in solving this puzzle.”
“We shall find the culprit,” Gavin declared. Ruarke snorted but Brianna did not care for his skepticism.
She held Luc’s gaze for as long as she could, taking strength from the steady blue of his regard. When Fenella tugged on her hand, Brianna turned reluctantly to leave. But she clutched one fist to her chest, as though she would hold a vestige of the warm concern in Luc’s eyes close to her heart for the rest of this day.
Ruarke began to argue with someone above, Father Padraig was having his say, and Uther was hotly defending something or other, but Brianna did not care. The assembly parted silently to let her pass, their eyes filled with sympathy, their whispers dying as she drew near. Brianna cared naught for that either.
Aye, Luc would see all set to rights. Brianna could trust him, and him alone, with her very life.
And that, she suddenly realized, was no small thing given the events of this day.
Luc trudged toward the village, trying desperately to solve the riddle of Connor’s death. He had left Uther to the task of clearing a chamber for their questioning and making a tally of all within the hall.
But too late, Luc wished he had asked Ismay what she knew of the Rose of Tullymullagh, what she knew that she was certain all else had forgotten.
What had Connor intended to confide in him?
Luc feared he would never know.
And he sensed that both tales might be critical to solving this crime. He had to find the culprit; he could not let the murder of Brianna’s father go unsolved.
For one who would murder once would murder again.
Luc did not permit himself to think of the risk that might well confront his princess. He would ensure that she was not alone, he would ensure that she was not unprotected. And he would find the killer, before that individual could strike again.
Brother Thomas was at Matthew Miller’s home, just as Luc had hoped. A fair and gently rounded woman, Matthew’s wife, nodded at Luc’s request and ushered him into the kitchen. The room was warm, simply furnished but more than cozy.
And Brother Thomas sat at the board beside a younger, but slightly more careworn version of himself. The monk was in the act of running a piece of bread around his bowl, claiming the last drop of gravy from his midday meal. The smell of a fine rabbit stew was enough to make Luc’s own belly protest its emptiness.
Brother Thomas waved his crust of bread in salutation. “Good day to you, master Luc! Come from the keep for a measure of gossip?”
“Master Luc,” Matthew’s wife echoed, sending a panicked glance her spouse’s way. “Would you be the Luc, son of Gavin Fitzgerald?”
“The very one,” Brother Thomas crowed before Luc could reply. “He is the one who did not go!”
Matthew now looked as concerned as his wife, his gaze straying guiltily to the pot of rabbit stew.
’Twas clear the miller’s wife did not share the monk’s enthusiasm. She turned to Luc with stricken eyes. “Sir! You must believe that we did not poach the rabbit from the lord’s lands. We did not hunt without permission. The creature beset my cabbages.” She wrung her hands together. “If we were to eat this winter, we had to set a trap.”
Aye, the old laws granting only the lord the right to hunt upon the lands he held were the root of the woman’s anxiety. The penalties were severe, Luc well knew, and typical of the nobles’ disregard for those who relied upon their generosity.
“I have not come to enforce my father’s claim to Tullymullagh’s game,” Luc interjected calmly.
The woman fairly melted in her relief. Then her brow puckered in confusion. “Why, then, have you come?”
Luc looked at Brother Thomas. “There has been a death at the keep. I come to ask your aid, once again.”
Brother Thomas swallowed his bread awkwardly and frowned in turn. “Who has died?”
“Connor.”
The trio gasped simultaneously, the miller rising to his feet. “ ’Tis sudden. I did not know my lord was ill. Adelina has skill with herbs, she would have come.”
Matthew’s wife nodded vigorously. “Anything for Connor of Tullymullagh. He is—” she swallowed and her sudden tears shone “—he was a good man.”
“Aye, he was,” Luc agreed. “ ’Tis why his murder is so grievous.”
Three pairs of eyes rounded in shock.
“Murder? But who did this deed?”
“We do not know.”
Brother Thomas pushed to his feet and stepped away from the board, his gaze startlingly bright. “I will come with you immediately. And I would hear all you know of this matter.”
They stepped out of the miller’s abode together, leaving confused silence behind them. Brother Thomas burped as they strode through the village and patted his belly. “ ’Tis soon after a meal for such a vigorous walk,” he muttered, then darted a glance to Luc. “You know more than you tell of this matter.”
“I have but suspicions,” Luc confirmed quietly. “Though you might be able to aid me in this.”
“Aye.” Luc flicked a glance to the monk and resolved to ask the question of greatest import first. There was not a moment to waste. “What do you know of the Rose of Tullymullagh?”
The monk’s gaze flew to meet Luc’s, alarm making his eyes wide. He swallowed visibly, then shook his head. “Not that.”
The monk knew something, Luc saw the truth immediately. Yet, he was reluctant to confide the tale. Luc lowered his voice and made his best appeal. “Thomas, there is a tale here, a tale that I suspect you recall, a tale that has much to do with Connor’s demise.”
Brother Thomas blew out his breath and scowled at the road as he walked. He was clearly considering something and his plump fingers worked together like animated sausages.
He turned his bright gaze abruptly upon Luc once more. “I was told in trust,” he confided in a low voice, “and to break that trust is no small thing.”
“Whose trust?”
“Connor’s own,” the monk confirmed and Luc’s heart began to pound. Brother Thomas’ gaze raked the height of the tall keep rising before them. “I cannot lightly discard a pledge sworn to a man no longer of this earth.”
“Even if the tale could see his killer brought to justice?”
Brother Thomas eyed Luc for a long moment, then he clucked his tongue and shook his head. “ ’Tis no good thing for a man to be murdered in his own home.”
“Still less in a chapel.”
Brother Thomas gasped and crossed himself, even as he sought Luc’s gaze once more. “Nay!”
“Aye,” Luc confirmed grimly. “ ’Tis a sight for which you must brace yourself.”
Brother Thomas blanched, his brow knotted, then he strode onward with new vigor.
Gavin and Father Padraig stood sentinel at the base of the stairs to the chapel, an unlikely pair of comrades, if ever there had been. They exchanged greetings with Brother Thomas and let him pass, though Father Padraig tried to halt Luc’s progress.
“I have need of his aid,” the monk said sternly, then proceeded up the stairs.
Father Padraig hesitated tellingly.
“Let him pass!” Gavin snapped. “Or I shall see that you pay the price.”
The priest’s lips thinned and he stepped just sufficiently aside that Luc could brush past him. Luc reached the chapel to find the monk clutching the wall. The older man was trembling slightly. His eyes were closed in dismay, and one hand fingered the rosary hanging from his girdle.
Luc turned his attention to a review of the damage done to the chapel, granting the monk a moment to collect himself. He was surprised to feel the weight of Brother Thomas’ hand on his shoulder a short moment later.
Luc looked into that man’s avid gaze. “I will tell you,” Brother Thomas said heatedly. “But not within these walls.” He looked once more upon his old friend, his expression strained. “This evil cannot pass unchallenged.”
Luc raised his voice slightly, knowing full well that two pairs of ears below would strive to hear what was said. “Aye, he is not a small man. ’Tis no trouble at all for me to aid you in moving him. I am well used to labor.”
“Bless you,” Brother Thomas whispered, then crossed the tiny chapel like a man in a dream. He knelt with surprising grace beside the broken body upon the floor and laid a hand upon that man’s pale brow.
“And godspeed to you, Connor,” he whispered huskily. “Know that I betray your trust only in the hope that a greater justice may be served.” He closed Connor’s eyes with gentle fingers. “Forgive me, my friend.”
And when the monk bowed his head to pray, Luc glimpsed the tears flowing down his cheeks.