Page 23 of Bewitching the Knight (A Knight’s Tale #2)

S amantha stood beside Ian as he unlocked the chapel doors, hoping to offer both moral support and comfort. Also, there was nowhere else she’d rather be than beside him.

With an air of relief and liberation, the servants rushed inside to clean.

About fifteen minutes later Beth was respectfully carried past them into the chapel by two of Ian’s guards while Tori followed slowly behind her deceased mother, the priest holding her hand, Brecken directly behind. As Tori walked by, Ian placed a hand on her shoulder, said a few words, and stepped back to let others follow.

Samantha couldn’t help the tears springing to her eyes. It was just so sad. So pointless and cruel. Everyone loved Beth.

They waited in respectful silence as Beth was laid out on a table before the altar, and, after a few minutes, the priest turned and excused everyone until morning. The crowd slowly dispersed, heading into dinner. Side by side, Samantha and Ian returned to the keep.

Butterflies suddenly took up residence in Samantha’s stomach. She was a lot of things, but she’d never been much of a performer, hence her boss hiring her to take classes to better improve the way she came across to others. The plan Ian had come up with seemed like a good one, but she just hoped she wasn’t the one to mess it up with her lousy acting skills. At least she had a small role.

At the head table, Samantha sank down onto the bench next to Ian’s chair and glanced around. They were some of the first to arrive, and the maids, some of them sniffling, were setting up the last few tables and getting ready for a late supper. Bread and butter was brought out to the solemn assembly.

Samantha and Ian didn’t talk as the hall began filling with clan members. In fact, they barely looked at each other as Tori came in with Brecken and the priest to take their seats. Brecken’s expression of grim anger was new to his face. He glanced around at the other tables as if trying to discern for himself who the murderer was.

Samantha turned to see Ian glaring at the priest, but it was still a surprise when he spoke harshly. “So, priest man, tell me, have ye robbed anyone lately? Had anyone killed for your pleasure? Stolen from the poor?”

Even though she knew he was to start a fight, Samantha was shocked at both his target and his rudeness.

The priest merely smiled at Ian. “You may call me Father William. And, nay, I have not robbed, killed, nor stolen from anyone of late. What of you? Is there aught you wish to confess?”

Nervous as she was, Samantha hid her smile in her napkin while Ian glared at the priest.

“Ignore him.” Brecken glared at Ian. “He is out of sorts. ’Tis hard to believe anyone here, our clan, our family, could have aught to do wi’ Beth’s death.”

Ian’s lips twisted. “Try living at court for any amount of time and ye’ll cease being surprised by what others are capable of.” Ian handed Samantha a slice of bread, but she couldn’t eat it as her stomach was twisted in knots. She prayed she wouldn’t give them all away. She glanced at Ian. He was cool as the proverbial cucumber, spreading butter on bread and reaching for jam.

The tables filled up fast, and it was a very gloomy crowd. Everyone liked Beth.

Janetta sat next to Ian, across from Samantha. She’d obviously been crying. Samantha wished she was better with people and comfort. And acting, for that matter.

Ian whistled for a dog—Samantha’s cue.

She swallowed and watched as he threw the mutt a piece of the bread. Her throat clenched, but she forced his name out regardless. “Ian.”. She could only hope that her strangled voice was attributed to grief and not stage fright. “Ian,” she said again, this time louder. “Please don’t do that. It’s not nice to feed the dogs food that could be poisoned.”

Ian face twisted with indignation. “Ye’d like me to die instead, would ye? Like Beth?”

Samantha didn’t have to act any more as genuine tears rose in her eyes. “I’m just tired of death, you know?”

Brecken leaned across the table to pat Samantha’s hand.

Quinn, taking a seat next to Dugald, made a soothing Scottish noise low in his throat. “There, there, ’twill be all right.”

“Don’t comfort her,” Ian snarled. “Apparently she’d rather I died than the dog.”

Samantha shot him a glare. “At least the dog is pleasant to everyone and would be missed.”

A platter was set down for Ian and Samantha to share.

Ian glowered. “I shouldna share, but should eat all this myself. Mayhap missing a meal or two would help you show some gratitude.”

Brecken broke in. “I doona like the way you’re speakin’ to her,” he said loudly.

“I doona care what you like,” Ian bellowed.

“How about I eat all the food and let you go hungry? Would you like that, then?” Brecken lunged for the platter and snatched it away before Ian could react. He started shoving morsels into his mouth, chewing furiously.

Ian turned to Samantha. “Are ye happy now? If my cousin dies because of you, then how will ye feel? I’d bet ye’d rather it was a dog if—”

Brecken grabbed his throat and stumbled off the bench in a dramatized fashion. He fell to his knees and made a gasping noise.

Wow. They chose him well for the role. She was just glad it was him rather than her as they’d originally discussed.

The hall quieted.

“He’s been poisoned!” Ian yelled loudly enough for all to hear. “He ate off my trencher—God have mercy!”

Tori, horror-struck, stood over Brecken and screamed.

Samantha wished they could have warned the girl, but she’d have a far more convincing reaction without that heads up, and with luck, it’d be over soon. She remembered to assess the crowd as Brecken play-acted death throes, looking specifically for surprise and confusion. A murderer who hadn’t done anything, should, at the very least, look startled rather than horrified.

She glanced back at Brecken, now rolling back and forth, clutching his throat, and uneasiness made her stomach tighten. Brecken was almost too good at this. A glance revealed his reddened face. He’d said he was going to choke himself to get the effect, but really, it was too much.

He fell over onto the ground to lay on his back, limp and staring.

Samantha searched the faces around her, and those beyond at the other tables, and realized that this wasn’t going to work. Everyone looked surprised and horror stricken. She turned to Ian—had he any better luck?—and noticed him staring at Janetta, whose face contorted with horror. The poor woman. She’d be so angry at them later.

All around her, abundant shock and fear, but no one had an out-of-place reaction. So much for their grand plan.

Ian rounded the table as planned to thump Brecken on the back, dislodge a hunk of meat, and play the hero. Brecken was to miraculously recover, gaining for himself a reputation as someone who could not be poisoned so they could embark upon the next stage of their plan. He couldn’t wait. In the meantime, she hoped no one saw him breathing.

Janetta slowly stood. “Ye’ve killed my son.”

Her face a mask of hatred, Janetta stared at Ian with loathing.

Samantha lifted a hand in a bid for the woman’s attention, to assure her it would be all right, but noticed Ian staring at his aunt, his expression arrested as Janetta rounded the table.

“Ye filthy, foul swine! Ye’ve killed him.” She screeched as she drew a knife, lifted it high, and threw herself at Ian.

* * *

Janetta was almost on Ian when, growling, she plunged the knife in a sweeping arc—aiming for his heart.

Janetta?

At the last moment, Ian grabbed her wrist, then, when she reached for the dagger with her other hand, he grabbed that wrist as well.

She dropped the knife and used her thumb to fiddle with her ring and it took a moment to realize what she was doing. The ring flipped open, revealing a spike. She bent her hand and tried to stab him with it.

Ian spun her around so her back was pinned to his chest and forced her hand open, the spike to her neck.

She froze, panting, teeth bared. “You killed my son,” Janetta’s voice dripped venom.

Ian had never seen the like. Still couldn’t wrap his head around it. They hadn’t planned to catch a murderer this eve, but to simply bait the trap. The sweet woman who’d supported him and fussed over him was unrecognizable, in voice and in face.

“You killed Beth,” Ian accused.

Janetta didn’t respond, yay or nay, so Ian shook her. “I will hear ye say it, else suffer her fate.”

Janetta’s chin lowered the slightest bit as she tried to look at the ring. “My son is dead. What matters now? Yes, I killed Beth when she meddled with my possessions.”

“She has a spike in her ring that she tried to stab me with.” Ian said loudly so everyone—including those behind him—could hear. “I’ve seen this type of ring before. I’ve no doubt ’tis filled wi’ a reservoir of poison. I confiscated such from an assassin at the king’s summer house at Kinghorn.”

He swung her around to face everyone.

When she saw the contempt growing on the faces before her, her lips tightened. “I could so easily have killed you all. I could have—”

“Mother.”

Janetta caught her breath and Ian felt her go completely still as she noticed Brecken on the floor, propped up on one elbow, looking up at them, denial and horror marring his face.

“Brecken,” she breathed his name. “Nae, love. Doona look at me that way, son. I did this for you. This is all for you.”

“For me?” Brecken sat up. “You killed Beth, for me? Why would ye ? I could never desire such.”

“I’ve removed everyone from your path. My brother, his wife, and sons.” She tilted her head, indicating Ian. “Only to see this baseborn inherit? It wasna fair! You should have been laird. You.”

A sharp pain pierced Ian’s chest. She’d killed his family?

Brecken stood, his expression turning to acceptance, sorrow. “Who was next, mother? After Ian, would ye have killed Tori?”

“She isna good enough for you. Ye know she’s no’.”

A depth of emotion showed on Brecken’s every feature. “I never wished to inherit on the spilled blood of others. I told you I was relieved when Ian returned. I’d felt guilty so many had died and I had succeeded only because of the misfortune of others.”

Ian felt her body tighten an instant before she lunged, and held her fast as she struggled. “But I did it for you! You must see that!”

Stunned silence filled the hall.

Brecken, his mouth working, tears streaming from his eyes, finally choked out, “My cousins, Mum? I loved them. Mourned them. And Beth? She was a second mother to me. And all the while…” He pressed a forearm to his eyes, openly weeping now.

Janetta looked around at everyone. Slowly she shrank back against Ian as she finally seemed to realize the bad feeling against her. “I’m going to my room.”

She was docile as Ian closed the top of her ring and wrested it from her unresisting fingers.

“Dugald. Quinn. Take her to the tower and lock her in.”

“There are keys in the chest,” Samantha quickly injected.

Ian nodded once. “Retrieve the keys first.”

Janetta, limp now, didn’t protest as the men came for her. She took a breath, straightened her shoulders, and calmly walked from the hall. Clansmen and women, their faces full of disgust, spit upon the floor as she passed.

* * *

Hours later, they gathered in Ian’s bedchamber once more and he stared out the window into the darkness, still trying to come to terms with what had happened, still unable to believe they’d hit upon the one scheme sure to draw out the murderer.

He looked toward the tower, which he couldn’t quite see from this vantage. Janetta would stay there until they could contact a convent that would take her. He’d already sent Dugald and several other men to complete the task. No doubt he’d have to pay for her confinement, but he’d gladly do so to rid his clan of that poisoned thorn.

It needed to happen, fast, for now there truly was a witch in the tower, and many desired her dead. He knew he’d be leery to eat food sent from the kitchens were he in Janetta’s place.

He’d prefer to put her to death, himself. It was no more than she deserved, but, as she was a woman and a noble, he wouldn’t stain his hands with her blood. After she was installed with the nuns, he’d let the king decide.

He glanced over his shoulder to where Samantha tried to comfort Brecken by rubbing his neck and making the occasional soothing noise, but the young man was pretty much inconsolable, slumped on a chair and staring into the fire. Ian truly felt sorry for his cousin. He knew the pain of losing a mother.

“My own mother, killing everyone for some sick plan to give me more of what?” Brecken had said it all before, but, like the lancing of a boil, it was as if he couldn’t quit worrying the subject until the infection all poured out. “Possessions? Land? Responsibility? I dinna wish for it anyway. ’Tis senseless . All is spoiled now, my mother lost to me. Tori willna want me.” His voice broke. “Willna even speak to me now. Why should she wish to? My mum murdered her beloved mother.”

Samantha rubbed circles down Brecken’s back. “Give Tori some time. She won’t blame you in the end. I’m sure of it.”

Brecken jumped up to pace. “Will she not? I might blame her, were the positions reversed. I’ve a murderer’s blood cursing my own. People were slain in my name that I might get gain. Aye. She blames me and I canna fault her. My mother killed Beth, wiped out my family.” He tilted his head to look at Ian. “She tried to kill you, too. Who knows who else died at her hand? My own father, I’ve no doubt.”

“Ye didna know.” Ian finally spoke. “She fooled me too. Not an easy task to achieve.”

Hope slowly dawned on Brecken’s expression. “That is true. If she could fool you, what chance did I have to see through her? Think you that will sway Tori? The others?”

Ian nodded. “I’ll speak to her and smooth your way, if I’m able.”

“Mayhap you could go see her now?” Brecken looked so encouraged, so grateful, that Ian had to turn away, unsure he was up to the task of winning the girl.

“Perhaps it would be a better idea to wait until after the funeral,” Samantha said.

Ian shot her a look of gratitude. “’Twould be for the best,” he agreed.

“She’ll not want me by her side tomorrow, will she?” Brecken’s shoulders drooped once more and he headed for the chair to sit down, his head falling into his hands. Ian met Samantha’s sympathetic gaze and felt gratitude for her soothing presence. How would he ever manage without her, ere she left him?

He felt for the younger man. He had a hard road ahead, but if Ian was able, he’d do his best to level it for him.