Part 40 (2/2)
Skelley nodded. ”Eliot says he was killed when they were captured.”
Alex paused, his heart sinking to his toes. Laine, dead? He'd been very fond of the boy. They shared a similar history, having both been destined for the kirk. But Alex had never been abused as Laine had. And unlike Carlisle, Alex's father would have killed every last monk party to it and razed the monastery-something Alex had very nearly done himself when he discovered what Father Rae had done to the lad. Skelley, with his usual wisdom, had advised Alex against killing men of G.o.d-even the deaths of the unG.o.dly men of Rees Abbey would bring them more trouble than they needed.
And Eliot had been most irritated at Skelley that day. He'd been itching to slaughter the monks. Alex didn't like the niggling doubt at the back of his mind. Eliot hated Laine. That in itself was not unusual, as Eliot hated many men, but Laine had done nothing to earn such loathing. In fact, he'd done much to earn respect and trust. Eliot seemed to dislike everyone Alex trusted. It had taken Eliot a long time to finally accept Skelley.
Alex rubbed his hand over his chin. ”Ridley would never intentionally kill Carlisle's son.”
Skelley joined Alex near the door, tonguing the gap in his tooth, fingers buried in the tangles of his beard. ”It could've been an accident, as Eliot claims.”
Alex's eyes narrowed. ”Laine was young, but no fool.”
Skelley opened his mouth to respond when Fayth's raised voice reached them from the kitchens. ”Out of my way!”
Alex raised his brows at Skelley and entered the kitchens. There Fayth stood, hair waving wildly around her shoulders and clothes in disarray, as if she'd just been tumbled well. The ache in Alex's groin returned at the sight of her-and the knowledge of how close he'd been to tumbling her.
Eliot blocked her exit, his gaze raking her covetously.
”Eliot,” Alex barked, surprising even himself with the sharpness of his voice. Fayth's shoulders jerked, but she didn't look at him.
Eliot's head turned and he backed away, though his burning gaze lingered on Fayth longer than Alex could bear.
Fayth stalked out of the kitchen. Eliot's gaze followed her until she was gone, then met Alex's. His eyes widened, eyebrows rising knowingly.
Alex approached him. ”It's good to have you back... but most unexpected.”
Eliot looked behind Alex to Skelley, then farther to the larder, an eyebrow c.o.c.ked curiously. ”Aye, weel, I managed to escape. They dinna expect much from a one-armed man.”
Alex doubted that. Eliot was well known throughout the west march by many names, not all of them a.s.sociated with Alex. Neither was Eliot a modest man-but a braggart when it suited him. However, it was also his way to downplay his greatest feats in the interest of building a more interesting tale when he was ready to tell it.
”We lost Laine?”
Eliot's face creased with regret. ”Aye, the lad went down fighting, too. He wouldna tell them he was Carlisle's lad and so they didna spare him.” He lowered his voice, his eyes slanting around the room. ”Carlisle was wi' Lord Graham... the lad told me, as he lay there wi' his lifeblood spilling onto the ground, that he'd rather die than go back to his father.”
Alex said nothing. He had known Laine well enough to know Eliot spoke the truth... and yet Laine did not speak of his father or his time at the monastery with anyone. He'd spoken little of it to Alex and what he did say was revealed only because Alex had been a novice himself once and understood the way things sometimes went among the brothers.
”You sure aboot that?” Skelley asked.
Eliot turned a contemptuous glare on Skelley. ”Ye got something to say, man, ye should say it.”
Skelley came forward, his normally easygoing expression hardened with suspicion. ”The two of ye werena gettin' on last I saw ye.”
Eliot stepped forward, going nose to nose with Skelley. ”The lad stayed and saved me life when you and the leech ran like cowards.”
Skelley snapped out his dirk, slipping it under the thick black waves of Eliot's beard.
”Say that again, you armless-”
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