dark, witchlike eyes, and then it was gone. She hardened her heart. “I’ve waited a long time for this, Mairi of Shiels,” she whispered. “You will die accursed for your deed.”
“Which deed, m’lady?”
Grizelle’s eyes narrowed, and she stepped back. Pointing a shaking finger, she screamed, “I curse you, Mairi of Shiels and Traquair and all the daughters of your line. For your treachery they will never rest. Cursed to pay for your deed, their sleep will be haunted by the dead until they die of foul and tragic means. Only when Scotland’s Stone of Destiny is found, will the curse be lifted.”
“’Tis your own flesh and blood you condemn,” cried Mairi.
An angry murmuring swelled through the crowd. Dogs growled and barked. A baby cried.
Robert held up his hand. Again, there was silence. “Bring out the stones,” he ordered, confident Mairi would confess once she saw the instrument of her death. Four men in yokes, straining against thick ropes tied to their shoulders, dragged an enormous slab of granite into the courtyard.
“No,” gasped David. “I won’t allow it.”
“Restrain him,” ordered the Bruce.
Two soldiers stepped forward and gripped David’s arms. His face haunted, he began to struggle. “Robert, I beg of you. Do not do this,” he shouted, twisting against the arms that held him like bands of steel. “Please.” Panic caused his voice to crack. “Spare my wife.”
Mairi was pale as a ghost, but her back was straight and her eyes, gray and icy as a mountain tarn, stared at the man who would be king.
“Your end is near, Mairi,” Robert said. “Speak now or stand before your God with a lie on your lips.”
The flashing scorn in her eyes withered him. He could scarcely form the words. “Kill her.”
Two guards stepped forward. Each took one arm. Mairi looked at one and then the other. Chastened, they released her and stepped back. Quickly, with graceful, catlike steps, she walked to the slab and lay down upon it.
Six more men carried a second slab, equal in size to the first, to where Mairi lay.
“Noooo…” moaned David. The tears ran freely down his face.
With Herculean effort, the men lifted the granite slab above their heads and heaved. Mairi folded her arms across her chest and turned her head. “Hail Mary, full of grace—” Her lips moved in prayer, but her eyes never left her husband’s face. Not even when the stone landed, full force, crushing the life and breath from her body.
Thirty
TRAQUAIR HOUSE
1993
A sting in my thigh woke me. Groggily, I tried to open my eyes but couldn’t quite manage it. The sensations of damp and cold penetrated my sweatshirt and leggings. I was still on the ground, my body twisted into an unnatural position on the stairs. Someone crouched beside me. It was a woman. I could tell from the cloying floral scent of her perfume.
“I know you’re coming around, Christina,” Kate Ferguson said in a voice that wasn’t the least bit servile. “There is no use pretending. I’ve brought you some orange juice. I want you completely alert when I tell you what I’ve planned.”
The insulin traveling through my veins renewed me. With only minimal effort, I opened my eyes. It was no longer dark. Kate stared down at me, holding an empty syringe in one hand and a thermos in the other. A flashlight sat on the step beside her, its circle of light reflecting off the ceiling and capturing the two of us in its artificial glow.
I wet my lips. “What are you doing here?”
She smiled contemptuously. “Do you really believe that I’d take orders from someone like you? Traquair belongs to me. I’ve no intention of ever leaving it.”
I sat up and reached for the thermos. She surrendered it immediately. Twisting off the top, I drank directly from the container, gulping the liquid down in huge restoring mouthfuls. The sweet juice cooled my parched throat and cleared away the remaining cobwebs from my brain. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and replaced the cap.
“How did you know where to give me my shot?”
“I took care of Ellen Maxwell for years. This isn’t the first time I’ve administered an injection.”
I needed time to think. Grasping at the first words that entered my mind, I spoke. “Maybe I was rather unfair,” I said, setting the thermos on the step. “Why don’t we see if we can come to some kind of arrangement.”
“I don’t think so.”
I looked up quickly, surprising a look of pure hatred on Kate’s