Part 4 (1/2)

”At least someone tried.”

He made a moue of mock sympathy. ”Poor Fayth, even Mona has abandoned you. Freed the big knight and followed her loins, eh?”

Fayth ignored him, wanting him to just go away.

Seeing she wasn't going to play his game today, he sighed and said, ”Oh-about the poison hidden in your kirtle, I replaced it with berry juice some time ago, in case you decided to use it on me.”

He laughed at her shocked expression. By the time she ripped the vial from its pocket and hurled it at the door, he was long gone. Fayth went to the bed. The dog climbed up beside her and lay its head in her lap.

”What shall I do?” she asked the dog, stroking her fingers through the silky fur. She couldn't give up hope. There had to be a means of escape. No castle was impenetrable, from the inside or out-her father had taught her that. And once she was free, she'd find Mona. Ridley would stop at nothing to get the Blood Stone. And that's what he believed Mona to be doing-fetching the Blood Stone out of hiding to deliver to Caroline and her new husband, Robert Maxwell.

If he was truly following Mona's movements then she must be warned. And besides, Mona was all Fayth had left. Like Fayth's sister Caroline, Mona had been mother and friend to her. Fayth had lost Caroline, but she would not give Mona up. She chewed at her thumbnail, certain that if she thought hard enough, she could overcome this obstacle and find her stepmother.

0=”2”2.

RIDLEY LEFT HIS sister's room for the fine chambers Lord Carlisle provided for him, fists clenching and unclenching all the way. He was impatient for action and worried Fayth would ruin everything. She was more trouble than she was worth. He could hardly wait to be rid of her.

”Wine,” he said, lowering himself into the chair before the fire. His servant, Gilford, was there seconds later, pressing a goblet of his finest claret into his palm. Ridley had brought his own, as most Scots wine was swill. He drank deeply. His belly calmed, filling with warmth. He sighed, wiping his hand across his lips.

Gilford hovered behind him, anxious to please. He'd been servant to Ridley's father, secure in his position. With Hugh not even a year in the grave, Gilford's position was now precarious. He was loyal and trustworthy, but he was a constant reminder of Father, a man Ridley strove to forget. Both his mother and father had been cold and unloving creatures-unfit to parent rats. Well, to him at least. It still cankered that his siblings had been so coddled and himself, ruled with an iron fist. He was nine years older than Caroline, his closest sibling in age, so he'd never felt any true kins.h.i.+p to anyone. Father had claimed he was hard on Ridley because he was heir. But Ridley knew it had been more than that. In Hugh Graham's eyes Ridley lacked most of the essential qualities he valued in men: honor, integrity, and loyalty. But Hugh had never looked hard enough.

What did it matter. Ridley had stopped caring long ago. It only troubled him now because it was his father's fault that his siblings were so d.a.m.n contentious. Ridley sighed, needing release.

”Find me a woman,” he ordered Gilford. ”And be certain she is not a toothless trull this time.”

”Yes, my lord,” Gilford murmured and left the room.

He needed to forget. More than his nasty sister, he was haunted by the memory of his stepmother. He'd tried, with little success, to put Mona's betrayal from his mind and his heart. And sometimes he was successful. It was difficult to be unhappy when all his carefully laid plans were beginning to bear fruit. Even with such incredibly willful sisters, he was still achieving his dreams.

But dreams could be an empty thing, when you faced them alone. He stared at the flames, his jaw set, rigid. He'd loved his stepmother. He'd given her everything, his heart, his body, his fortune, laid at her feet. And it was not enough. It had been the same with his father-never enough.

And Fayth constantly rubbed salt in the wounds. Refused to let them heal-always throwing in his face how Mona abhorred him, would rather throw herself from the highest precipice than endure his touch. At least he would soon be rid of Fayth. His sister could vex him, but she could not divert destiny anymore than Mona could.

There was a scratch on the door. Ridley bid them enter, unhooking his doublet. He turned, expecting a woman and finding instead, his brother.

Ridley stood, disgusted. ”What is it, Wesley?”

Wesley's jaw was rigid with tension. He was a slight man, but not one to underestimate. From experience Ridley had learned the smaller they were-the meaner. And every bone in Wesley's body was cantankerous. He had once wors.h.i.+pped Ridley, tagged after him like a puppy. But, of course, like everything else, that had changed. He'd become greedy. But he could still be bent to Ridley's will. Wesley had fought him on marrying Caroline to Lord Annan, but in the end, he'd been obedient.

Wesley seemed to be framing his words in his mind, trying to find the right phrase.

Ridley raised his eyebrows in expectant impatience.

As usual, finding nothing adequate in his common little brain, Wesley blurted out, ”Carlisle-I cannot abide him. It makes me ill to think of him with Fayth.”

”Then do not think on it.” Ridley held his goblet out for a refill.

Wesley stared at the vessel belligerently, then looked about the room. Seeing no servants, he s.n.a.t.c.hed the goblet away. ”I cannot help it.” He strode to the table and poured the claret.

Ridley sighed and accepted the goblet thrust into his hand. ”Must we go over this again? Fayth is to wed Carlisle-there is nothing else for it.”