“They may suspect I killed Fenella, but they ha’e no proof and once I explain how Alpin here so cleverly placed a knife to me throat and used the threat o’ harming me to make ye do as he wished—”
“Alpin?” she nearly gasped the name. “Ye really think ye can convince them that wee Alpin stabbed Fenella, knocked out both me big strong brothers and then killed me?” She shook her head with disbelief. “He’s a stripling.”
“And I’m a frail old woman,” Tilda pointed out sweetly. “Who has ne’er showed anything but fondness fer ye. While Alpin is a strong lad, with lots o’ wiry muscle from saddling his laird’s horse, and carrying his shield and such . . . who also complained to one and all that ye were no lady.” She put on a sad moue and sighed. “I fear he was horrified at the prospect o’ having to serve the poor dear.”
Saidh stilled at her words, but then swallowed and said, “Greer’ll ne’er believe it. Alpin had no reason to kill Allen.”
“Is anyone really sure Allen did no’ merely drown accidentally?” she asked. “I am the only one who believed it was no accident. If I was the one who killed him, why would I ha’e squawked about it to one and all, and possibly raise their suspicions that it might ha’e been foul play, when no one thought it anything but an accident ere that?”
Saidh frowned. The woman’s reasoning was not completely insane. She might convince . . . Straightening, she said triumphantly, “The arrow. Alpin was sick in bed when I was shot in the woods. He could no’ ha’e—”
“Used the passage to slip out by the loch and then go lie in wait fer ye to return before using the passage to return to his bed ere Greer found and brought ye back?”
“Ye used the passage,” Saidh murmured. She had no idea where it came out by the loch, but remembered the horses reacting to something in the trees surrounding the clearing. Pushing that away for now, she rallied and said, “They’ll ne’er believe Alpin could knock out Rory and Dougall.”
“Why not? I did and he is stronger than me,” she pointed out. “All he needed was a stool to stand on by the door fer Dougall. I did place one there,” she added, and then continued, “As fer Rory, he was bent o’er his satchel on the table when I crept into the room, his head easily reachable to the boy.”
“But Alpin can barely stand up,” Saidh pointed out. “Those tinctures o’ Rory’s—”
“He only pretended to take them,” Tilda said with a shrug.
Saidh shook her head. “Greer’ll ne’er believe it.”
“Mayhap, but he’ll ne’er be able to prove otherwise,” she said with certainty. “And does he prove difficult, I can always kill him and help the next in line to the title.”
Saidh stared at her briefly, and then past her as she noted movement in the darkness by the door. She almost raised the torch to see what it was, but then realized doing so might be a mistake if it was help coming, and shifted her attention back to Tilda. Shaking her head, she said, “Alpin was injured saving me from the merlon ye pushed off the wall.”
“Or was he trying to push ye under it?” Tilda asked.
Since the boy couldn’t have been pushing her around and toppling the merlon at the same time, that argument would never work, but Saidh merely said, “Ye’re such a disappointment.”
“Me?” Tilda gasped indignantly.
“Aye,” Saidh said firmly. “I actually admired ye and thought ye were a true lady, kind and sweet. Instead, yer naught but a sneaky, brain-addled viper who destroys all she encounters. Yer sister, her bairns, yer son, Fenella . . . is there anyone in yer life who ye’ve no’ killed?”
“Her husband, but I hear she made him so miserable he threw himself on an enemy’s sword to escape her,” Greer said grimly, appearing out of the shadows behind Tilda and pressing his sword tip to the side of her throat. “Drop the knife and release the lad, or I’ll slice yer throat wide open where ye stand.”
Tilda froze, fury crossing her face. Saidh suspected the woman might have tried something then, threats or trickery to turn the tables, but the appearance of Aulay and her other brothers moving out into the small room from behind Greer caught her attention, and she closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, they seemed as empty as she was and she shrugged indifferently. “Go ahead and slice me throat. ’Tis no worse than what’ll happen to me now anyway.”
For a moment, Saidh thought Greer might do it. He certainly looked furious enough to, and she couldn’t blame him. On the other hand, she didn’t want Alpin injured, so while the pair were distracted glaring at each other, Saidh quickly stepped forward and grabbed the woman’s hand, pulling it away from Alpin’s throat. She then squeezed Tilda’s wrist with her other hand until she shrieked in pain and released the knife.
“Thank ye, wife,” Greer said grimly as he tugged Tilda’s arms behind her to free Alpin.
“Me pleasure,” Saidh said dryly, putting out a steadying hand to Alpin when he staggered away from Tilda and toward her.
“Oh, m’lady,” Alpin muttered, collapsing against her. “Ye were so brave. And ye did no’ scream once, all those times she stabbed ye in the back.”
“What?” Greer bellowed. Tossing Tilda toward Saidh’s brothers, he rushed forward to catch her by the shoulders and turn her around so he could see her back.
“She only poked me a time or two,” Saidh muttered, clasping Alpin close to keep him from tumbling to the floor.
“Nay. She stabbed ye,” Alpin said, raising his head to peer at her face from the comfort of her bosom. “ ’Twas three times I think, and the knife went in an inch at least each time.”
“What?” Saidh bellowed now, and tried to twist around to see her back. Unable to, she glanced to Greer and was only alarmed further by his expression. Her voice was shaky as she asked, “She did no’ really stab me, did she? It did no’ feel like she did more than poke me.”