“Aye, but no’ expecting trouble, the MacGregor probably would no’ have sent more than six or ten soldiers with ye. Brodie brought a hundred,” she pointed out.
“Oh, aye, well, that may ha’e been a problem,” he agreed with what sounded like a frown in his voice. He fell silent briefly as Dwyn continued tugging at the cord at his wrists, and then said, “Might I ask? Why is Laird Brodie so determined to marry ye?”
Dwyn smiled faintly. Why, indeed, she thought grimly, but said, “He wants me family home and its property. We border Brodie, ye see, and if he can force me to marry him, he plans to join the two properties and make it all Brodie . . . with him as laird, o’ course.”
“Oh, I see,” he said with an “aha” sound to his voice. “Aye, it makes much more sense now.”
Dwyn stopped working briefly, quite sure she’d just been insulted. Although she doubted the man even realized he’d just insinuated that Brodie’s desire to marry her couldn’t possibly have been just for her person, whereas greed made more sense. Shaking her head, she went back to work.
“Well, I shall have to explain to him that God frowns on greed,” Father Machar said now. “Perhaps I could even read him a passage from the Bible on it. Luke 12:15 would be good.” His voice dropped to a theatrical boom, and he quoted, “Then he said to them, ‘Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man’s life does not consist in an abundance of his possessions.’ Or,” he said, sounding excited, “perhaps Corinthians 6:10. ‘Nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.’” He barely finished that before he was exclaiming, “Oh! Or I could quote—”
“Father?” Dwyn interrupted gently.
“Aye, lass?” Father Machar asked.
“Ye may want to no’ lecture or quote to Laird Brodie. I fear the man is quite mad and like to hurt ye if ye do,” she pointed out.
“Oh, nay. Surely not?” he said, the excitement replaced with concern. “Greed may seem like madness, but—”
“He’s tied up a priest,” Dwyn pointed out dryly. “And he’s kidnapped and tied me up as well, and that besides wounding me husband terribly and trying to rape me to force me to marry him ere I came to Buchanan. And the man talks to—”
“Rape? Really?” Father Machar interrupted.
Dwyn couldn’t tell if it was titillation she was hearing in his voice, or not. Telling herself of course it wasn’t, she said, “Aye. Fortunately, me dogs attacked him and drove him off.”
“Ah,” he said wisely, and then suggested, “Have ye considered that was God’s vengeance? Punishment for his evil ways?”
“I somehow do no’ think God would make me dogs bite off the end o’ a man’s pillicock, Father,” she said dryly.
“Oh, dear,” he muttered with dismay. “Nay, I canno’ see him doing that either.” He fell silent briefly, and then in an obvious attempt to turn the subject said with feigned cheer, “So ye’re married to Geordie Buchanan?”
“Aye, Father,” Dwyn murmured, tugging a bit of cord through another and hoping she was moving it the right way and wasn’t simply knotting him up more.
“The Buchanans are fine men,” Father Machar assured her. “Good warriors too.”
“Their sister, Saidh, is lovely as well,” Dwyn pointed out, a little annoyed on the woman’s behalf that she hadn’t been included.
“Oh?” he asked with interest. “And yet Father MacKenna found her most trying.”
“Who is Father MacKenna?” Dwyn asked.
“Father Archibald’s predecessor,” he explained. “He was the Buchanan priest for years.”
“Oh.” She tugged on another cord, but when it didn’t budge at all, moved on to test the next.
“Aye, and Father MacKenna said Saidh could no’ simply accept his teachings, but had to question everything,” Father Machar explained as if that were the worst thing in the world a woman could do.
“Is asking questions no’ how we learn?” Dwyn asked distractedly.
“Oh, aye, and ’tis even encouraged so long as ye’re no’ questioning the church.”
“I see,” she said dryly. “What happened to Father MacKenna?”
“Well, it would seem he met with foul play some years ago. He just disappeared quite suddenly,” Father Machar told her with a shudder that suggested he was imagining something of that ilk happening to himself.
Considering he was tied up at present and at the mercy of a madman, Dwyn thought that imagining it wasn’t really necessary and the shudder was justified. To distract him, she asked, “Is it possible that was God’s judgment on Father MacKenna for speaking so unkindly o’ a good, kind woman like Saidh?”
“Oh, nay,” he said at once, but then asked with interest, “Do ye think so? He always was rather unkind to me. Perhaps he was being punished for that instead.”
Dwyn blinked at the suggestion, and then stiffened when Brodie pushed through the tent flap.
“I’ve found the solution,” the big man announced with satisfaction as he straightened inside the tent.
Dwyn eyed him warily, but said nothing, afraid it would simply draw his attention to the fact that their gags were off. Something he didn’t appear to have noticed yet.
It was Father Machar who asked pleasantly, “Oh? And what is that?”
“Oh, I canno’ be telling you that, Father. Ye’d be scandalized,” Brodie announced, and then ordered, “Close yer ears and do no’ listen.”
Dwyn glanced over her shoulder at Father Machar, wondering how Brodie expected him to do that. She suspected the priest was wondering the same thing, but after a moment he turned his head away from Brodie, giving him the back of his head so that the priest now stared at the tent wall beside them.
Much to her amazement, Brodie grunted with approval at that and then turned his gaze to Dwyn and proceeded as if he thought Father Machar really couldn’t hear him. “I’m going to kill Geordie Buchanan.”
Dwyn’s head jerked back slightly, but she kept her voice calm when she said, “The Buchanans would hunt ye to hell and back.”
“Only if they ken I killed him,” he responded with amusement.
“They would ken,” she said firmly.
“But could they prove it?” Brodie asked silkily. “If his death looks an accident, they may suspect, but Aulay Buchanan is known to be a fair man. If he has no proof, he’ll no’ act against me.”
Dwyn frowned, very much afraid he was right. She’d seen that fairness in regard to Lady Catriona and Lady Sasha. He and Geordie had suspected they were behind the attacks, but hadn’t sent them away until they needed the rooms because there was no proof. Mind you, it turned out Aulay had been right to do that. The attacks hadn’t been by the two ladies at all, but by Katie. Dwyn still found that rather dismaying news. She’d smiled and chatted with the maid, never knowing how close she stood to a killer and someone who meant her so much harm.
“Me plan is really very clever,” Brodie announced, drawing her attention back to him. “I’ll send three men separately to Buchanan. One will stay in the woods by the loch Geordie seems to enjoy so much, awaiting an opportunity to drown him and make it appear accidental. Another will camp in the woods on the edge o’ the village, and watch for an opportunity to knock him from his horse should he come or go. He’ll then make it appear he was thrown from his horse and broke his neck. And the last man will offer his services as a soldier and move right into Buchanan. If they take him on, which I’m sure they will since I’ve no doubt their men are so stretched right now with their search fer you they could use more help, he can await any possibility to kill him there—breaking his neck and throwing him down the stairs when no one is about so it looks accidental, bumping into him in the training field so he is skewered on his opponent’s sword while practicing with the men, a fire in the stables while he is in there.” He beamed. “The possibilities are endless.”