Part 34 (1/2)

He dug in his spurs and put this place, his deception, and his father, behind him. They'd been riding for nearly an hour when Eliot called for him to stop. He drew rein and scanned the forest around them. The air was heavy and chill from the recent rains. The mist of his breath blossomed around him.

”They're following us,” Laine said.

”I ken.” But Eliot didn't look overly concerned.

”Should we try to lose them?”

Eliot said nothing, but he was listening, his head c.o.c.ked slightly. The snapping of twigs and branches, and the crunch of leaves followed them.

”They're not really trying to hide it, either,” Laine said, puzzled by this behavior.

”Aye... they're no stupid. They're making sure I'm no playing them false.”

Laine frowned slightly at Eliot's reference to himself, as if Laine hadn't been party to the whole farce.

”Well?” Laine said, becoming annoyed. ”Shall we try to lose them, or-he lowered his voice-”ambush them? Then we can return to Red Alex with prisoners.”

Eliot nodded and waved at Laine to follow him. He dismounted, leading his horse into a thick cl.u.s.ter of trees and bracken. When they were hidden in the foliage, Laine turned to peer through the leaves. The sounds had stopped, but no one appeared.

Laine shook his head, confused. ”What are they waiting for?” When Eliot didn't answer, Laine turned his head to look at him and caught the blade of a dirk coming at him. He flung himself backward and the blade caught his neck, puncturing, but not slicing. Laine made a strangled scream, slapping his hand over the wound and struggling to back away from Eliot.

Blood oozed thickly between his fingers as he slid partly down the tree. Eliot stood over him, the dirk clutched in his fist, stained with Laine's blood. Laine had never liked Eliot, but hadn't thought him capable of such an act. He was cousin to Red Alex, had grown up with the Annan Maxwells. Laine couldn't grasp this traitorous act and stared at Eliot in disbelief, gasping for air.

”Now I'll gi' ye yer first, and last, lesson on the nature of men.” Eliot took a step forward. ”Trust no one.”

After the monastery, Laine should have learned that lesson by now. He edged around the tree, putting a bush and several jagged boulders between himself and Eliot. The one-armed man merely laughed.

”Ye still underestimate me, laddie. Ye canna get away. If I left ye now, ye'd die from that neck. Let me do ye one kindness, to repay ye for yer misplaced trust. Come here and let me end it quick.”

The betrayal nearly choked Laine. He tried to speak, but to his horror nothing came out but a strange gurgling. The pain was sharp, burning, as if the knife were still there, blocking his words.

Eliot circled the stones, stalking Laine. ”Lord Graham knew ye'd be a problem and suggested I get rid of ye. I wanted to be finished wi' ye right there in camp but Lord Graham wouldna hear of it. Carlisle's too important to him, it seems.”

Laine wanted to cry. As if his father cared! His father likely would have wielded the knife himself, if asked.

”And then there was Mr. Wesley. He didn't want ta kill ye either. Lord Graham thought it best if I handled it.”

Laine shook his head, mouthing, Why? His mind couldn't wrap around it. Eliot loved Alex, as they all did. How could he do this?

”Why? For Gealach, of course. Lord Graham will make me warden of it if I get him the la.s.s.”

Laine shook his head, wanting to scream, Fool! He's using you! He'll never give you anything. He wants you to kill me away from camp so the blame cannot be pinned on him. You are naught more than a tool and a scapegoat. But all that came out was a wheezing sound. Laine began to feel a spark of hope, even as his limbs grew weak and heavy. He could still breathe. Laine backed away, wanting to run, but his vision clouded and he knew he'd never make it if he turned his back on Eliot. He must conserve his strength. He must be clever.

Eliot c.o.c.ked his head to the side. ”Why do ye shake yer head at me? Ye dinna believe it? Well, I wondered that meself, but if he tries to cozen me, he's playing wi' the wrong man. I'll slit his gullet as easily as I did yers.” His smile was a white slash in his ebony beard. ”Methinks he knew this. That's why he chose me, because I could be trusted, if compensated properly.”

Something hit Laine's calves and he fell backward, over a stone and into a bush. The branches tore at his arms and clothes and the burning wound in his neck.

G.o.d help me, he prayed, as the world darkened and Eliot's shadow fell over him. But he knew it for a fool's prayer. G.o.d had abandoned him long ago.

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