The Bard (Highland Heroes #5) - Maeve Greyson Page 0,74

Sorcha and himself. But if not Garthin Napier as their criminal, then who?

Rubbing his bleeding chin against his sleeve, Garthin sniffed, then stood as straight as he could, “Well? Ye look well enough. So, I’m guessing whatever ill-luck befell the lot of ye this time couldna have been that severe. Is that what landed me here? A man has a right to know what he’s accused of, ye ken?”

The man kept teetering back and forth between arrogant arsehole and blubbering coward. It was like two different souls possessed the body shackled to the wall, and both were halfwits. “Ye know verra well what happened.” Sutherland watched the fool, half-deciding the man’s ploy was to keep him talking so he wouldn’t be plunged back into darkness. He had heard the fear in Garthin’s voice. The bastard was terrified at what might be down here with him in the dark.

Sutherland decided on a test. While his thirst for revenge was strong, it did him little good to gut the wrong man. But he wouldn’t admit such logical reasoning to Alexander. His brother had no need to know that he might be right about a cool head winning the day.

“My wife is dead,” he snapped. “Her and Jenny both.” He prayed Garthin hadn’t seen Jenny ride into the courtyard. Surely, he hadn’t since he had said he’d been down in the village. “The nightshade ye put in their water bags killed them. We found remnants of the leaves and berries.”

“Dead?” Garthin repeated in a hushed tone. Even his swollen eye pried open a little wider. Then he had the gall to assume a woebegone look. “I am so verra sorry.” He bowed his head. “So verra sorry,” he softly repeated, but then his head bounced up and terror registered on his face again. The fool had realized what could happen to him for committing such a heinous deed. “But I didna do it. God strike me dead if I’m telling ye a lie. I dinna even know what nightshade looks like.”

“Liar!” Sutherland charged forward, brandishing the torch so close, it singed the man’s hair. “Who else would be an expert on such poison? Learnt it from yer mother, I’m guessing. Admit it! Admit yer guilt, and I’ll gut ye here and now so ye willna have to stand the darkness any longer whilst ye wait for us to decide how best to end yer life.”

From the sudden onset of a disgusting stench, Garthin had just emptied his bowels while also pissing down both legs. “I swear I didna do it! I’d never harm either of them. They both were a might snappish at me most of the time, but I probably deserved it. I can be a real arse at times. Please! Bring me a bible or Mother’s head, even. I’ll swear my innocence on them both. I dinna know a thing about poisons. Please! Ye have to believe me. I beg ye! I’m a dullard when it comes to herbs.”

The more the fool babbled on and on about leaves and berries and his mother’s mixing of poisons, the more Sutherland realized the wrong man was shackled to that wall. Of course, it would be more than a little foolhardy to release him just yet. Imprisoning Garthin could prove to be a benefit rather than a mistake.

Without a word, Sutherland unsheathed his dirk.

Garthin screamed and shut his eyes, twisting away as far as his shackles allowed.

“Coward,” Sutherland muttered as he made a shallow cut down the man’s exposed arm and smeared blood on both sides of his blade. “If ye wish to live, ye will bide yer penance here in silence, ye ken?”

“Dinna leave me in the dark!” Garthin sniveled without opening his eyes. “Please! Have mercy! I am nay the one who killed them! I swear.”

“I said silence, or I’ll gut ye as I promised.”

Garthin bowed his head and shook with silent sobbing.

Sutherland had never been long on mercy, and he wasn’t about to start now. The fool might be innocent of this particular mess, but he felt certain the man needed punishment for something. A few days in the darkness wouldn’t kill him. It might even help the scum. He might emerge from the dungeons a changed man.

Sutherland turned and started the long climb out of the darkness. Every moment he wasted in this pit was a moment that Sorcha was left unguarded. He had a useless son of a whore to catch and, hopefully, that bastard would get careless and