gardening and ready for stretching of her legs.”
“Ye will address my wife as Lady Sorcha, ye useless cur, and her legs are none of yer concern!” Sutherland lunged forward and grabbed hold of Garthin by the front of his jacket. The bastard had overplayed his hand this time, confessing that he had been the one to plant the ladder where Sutherland or Sorcha would surely use it. “And ye admit ye plotted to cause me harm—or even worse—cause injury to my wife? I’ll see ye dead before the sun sets.” It all made sense now. With Sorcha and Sutherland both out of the way, Lady Culane and Garthin could entrap the Greyloch during his grief and take control of the clan.
“I admitted no such thing!” Garthin shoved back with his teeth bared. He grabbed Sutherland’s wrists and yanked to no avail. “Pearsley had me carry the ladder from the stable and place it there. ’Tis a wonder ye didna see me, ye pompous arsewipe. I saw ye spying on us from atop the wall. Ask yer man Pearsley how the rungs and ropes got cut.”
“It is true Raibert Pearsley has never liked me,” Sorcha interjected quietly as she stepped forward and rested a hand on Sutherland’s arm. “He has never approved of my help in leading the clan, nor any decision I have ever made.” She turned to her father as she nestled closer to Sutherland. “And with my husband and me out of the way, I’m sure he thought he would stand a better chance of tricking ye into believing whatever foolishness he spewed.”
“Not verra damn likely.” The chief swiped a hand across his mouth as though he’d just tasted something foul. “Yer mother never trusted that bastard either. I shouldha listened to her a long time ago and ousted him.” Greyloch’s scowl tightened as his gaze slid to the stable across the way. “Guards!”
“Guards, my arse.” Sutherland shoved Garthin aside. He had no need of guards to serve the type of justice he could mete out himself.
Before he had taken more than two strides, a young lad exploded out of the stable’s double doors, waving his arms and shouting. “Help! Master Pearsley’s done hanged himself from the loft!”
Sutherland reached the scene first. The man’s body slowly twisted at the end of the rope. Both his hands were stuck at the base of his throat, his fingers caught where he’d made a futile attempt at clawing at the noose. Raibert Pearsley’s exit from this world looked as though it had been anything but peaceful.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Greyloch said as he appeared at Sutherland’s side, huffing to catch his breath. He spun about, strode back to the door, and pointed in the other direction. “Heckie! Garthin! Take the women inside. I willna have them seeing this.”
“But—” Sorcha started to argue.
“Go with them, Sorcha! Now!” Sutherland shouted without looking away from the dead man. His wife might not have been fond of Master Pearsley, but viewing the man’s body swinging from a rope was a different matter entirely. He would not have her witness the grisly scene.
“He looks to have changed his mind,” Magnus observed. “Look at his hands.”
“Maybe he discovered the error of his knot tying when the rope failed to snap his neck and slowly strangled him instead.” Sutherland turned to the chieftain. “Why would the man do this if his plot to remove Sorcha and myself seemed to be working as he had hoped?”
“I dinna think he did this willingly.” Greyloch sidled around the body, looking up at the man from another angle. “Raibert Pearsley was the most cowardly of weasels. He avoided any kind of pain or discomfort at all costs. That weakness made him a damned fine liar.”
“Who wouldha killed him?” Sutherland had a fair idea. If Pearsley had walked in on Garthin while the man was tampering with the ladder, he would have required silencing. But if that were so, why would Garthin point them in Pearsley’s direction? Was the man truly that big of a fool or just arrogant beyond belief?
“Gibb!” Greyloch shouted.
The stable boy who had alerted them stepped out from the shadows. “Aye, my chief?”
“Did ye happen to see Master Pearsley today before he decided to stretch his neck?” Sutherland asked, taking over the investigation without a second thought.
Greyloch gave him an irritated look but didn’t protest. The man understood his need to settle this himself.
“Aye, Master MacCoinnich.” Gibb bobbed his head. “Saw him give a ladder to Master Napier.” The