Adrienne Basso Read Online Free Page A

annoyance. “No one can deny that Douglas benefited from Alastair’s quick passing. And ye, milady, were the only one with Alastair when he died.”
    Grace held back a gasp. Quick? The poor man had suffered mightily for weeks. “’Twas hardly unusual that I was with my husband when he died. I stayed at his bedside throughout his illness.”
    “I spoke with Brother John the morning of the funeral. He told me that ye insisted he leave the chamber that night. Why?”
    Grace twisted out of Roderick’s cruel grip and stepped away, turning her back to him. It was too hard to answer these questions under his sharp, accusing gaze. “Brother John was clearly exhausted. I merely suggested that he take a few hours to rest before returning to care fer Alastair.”
    “The monk said ye repeatedly insisted that he leave the sickroom.”
    “I did no such thing,” Grace answered truthfully. It had taken little persuasion that night to get Brother John to seek the comfort of his own bed. Getting a lethal dose of medicine, however, had been a far more daunting task.
    “Brother John said that Alastair was improving.”
    “Och, Roderick, ye cannae believe it. Ye saw him yerself. Alastair was dying and there was nothing anyone could do to save him.”
    He moved behind her, put his hands on her shoulders, and forced her to turn. “Are ye speaking the truth?”
    “I have no reason to lie.”
    Roderick’s face filled with fury. “Ye’ve every reason to lie and we both know it. If Alastair had lived but a few more weeks, then I would be chief, not Douglas.”
    Grace opened her lips to protest, then closed them without saying a word. Jaw set, eyes grim, she saw there was no argument she could present that would sway Roderick from that belief.
    “Ye cannae undue the past, Roderick. Best to go forward and accept God’s will.”
    “I cannae. I willnae.” Roderick blinked and something dark shifted in his eyes. “Be warned. The longer ye keep to yer lies, the harder it will be on ye when I uncover these falsehoods and take vengeance against my enemies.”
    Roderick slammed the door hard as he left. It took four deep breaths before Grace could find the strength to guide her shaking legs and collapse on the chair. She didn’t even notice that Edna had returned until the maid spoke to her.
    “Take a good long drink.” Edna held out a wine goblet.
    Though tempted, Grace shook her head and woodenly turned to the maid. “Roderick suspects I was involved in Alastair’s death. He threatened a mighty vengeance.”
    The maid paled. They had never spoken of that night, but Grace was aware that Edna knew something was amiss. And the loyal maid refused to judge, an action for which Grace was profoundly grateful.
    “’Tis no longer safe fer ye here,” Edna whispered. “We need to go home, milady.”
    Grace swallowed hard. Home. Where exactly was home? Promised to the church as an infant, Grace had been taken to the Convent of the Sacred Heart at the age of five, a few months after her mother had died. The dedicated nuns had raised her, preparing her for a spiritual life that had never come to pass. Her brother, Brian McKenna, had plucked her from the convent when she was barely fifteen and married her to Alastair, to secure an alliance with the Fergusons.
    As Alastair’s wife she had been treated with respect and deference, but she stood apart from the clan. Young, unsure of herself, and naturally shy, Grace had been unable to form any deep bonds of friendship with the wives and daughters of the clan. Perhaps if Alastair had been there to smooth the way for her, she would have learned how to accomplish that much-desired goal. But the reality remained that despite being married to the clan chief, she was an outsider.
    “Do ye think my brother would welcome me if I went to him?” Grace asked anxiously.
    Edna nodded. “Ye’re his blood. And the McKennas always care fer their own.”
    “Won’t I look guilty if I run?”
    “Nay. Ye’re