A Laird and a Gentleman (All the King's Men #4) - Gerri Russell Page 0,54

the doors? Uncertain where the portal was located, Mariam inched her way along the stone wall until she finally felt the wooden planks that made up one of the doors.

Once back inside, Mariam closed the heavy doors behind her and Vivian. Even so, the smell of sulfur hung in the air. “I’m so glad you, Quinn, and Alexander arrived when you did. I would hate for you to have been caught up in whatever kind of storm this is.” And what of Cameron and his men? Would they know of the danger and stay away, or be caught in it themselves?

“This is no storm. I heard a story as a child about a similar situation—sudden darkness that blocks the sun, the birds and animals vanishing, and lots of falling ash.” Vivian’s face paled. “In the past, many have thought such an event was a sign of God’s displeasure with his people.”

“Is that what you believe this is?” Mariam asked, her voice vibrating with emotion.

“Nay. I believe it is nature’s way of changing the world in which we live.”

“It seems more like the earth is exploding rather than changing,” Mariam said.

With a sad smile Vivian nodded. “When this happened before, the ash came from across the sea, originating in Iceland.”

Mariam frowned. “Nature is unhappy with us, then?”

“Nature is always changing, evolving, and hoping those of us who reside in her fold will find a way to adapt.”

Mariam did not fully understand what Vivian tried to explain. “How long will the darkness last?”

“Days. If it is as it was when I was a child, the effects of this ash will be with us for years.” Vivian’s gaze shifted to the stairs, and Mariam knew she was thinking about her husband and children ensconced in the rooms above.

“Go to them,” Mariam said. “Tell them what has happened. Perhaps your husband and Alexander know something we can do.”

Vivian moved toward the stairs then stopped and turned around. The look she gave Mariam was filled with such sadness it sliced right through her. “I’m not sure there is anything we can do. If you thought influenza was misfortunate, prepare yourself for something much, much worse.”

Chapter Thirteen

In the great hall of Falkland Palace, Cameron, his prisoner, and his men stood before the king who sat in his overly large chair. The massive chamber with bright red walls had been cleared of anyone else to allow them to talk in private. After Cameron had recapped Swinton’s activities at Ravenscraig, King James’s tense gaze shifted to John Swinton. “What do you have to say in your defense, Swinton? Did you or did you not try to harm your own daughter while she was still under the guardianship of this man and after I told you to stay away from her?”

Swinton, newly released from his bindings, rubbed at his wrists as though trying to remove the stain of his capture from his flesh. “Lies! You know why I was there, Your Grace. Is it not my occupation to rid this world of all possible evil? By your own commission, you granted me that right.” Swinton’s eyes glittered brilliantly in the candlelight. “Is that not what you wish me to do?”

The king frowned. “Why would you suspect your own daughter of witchery?”

“A tale of a young woman leading animals without so much as a word or a gesture came to my attention. I knew I had to investigate, because where there are unusual events, there are usually witches. I followed the tales straight to Ravenscraig Castle, and my own daughter,” Swinton snarled. “Her mother poisoned her with her blood, and she needed to be cleansed.”

Swinton turned on Cameron with a sneer. “It’s your fault! You were too gentle with her. I tried to beat any trace of her mother out of her for years. I was succeeding until you changed her. She’s a witch, and a harlot!”

“Enough, Swinton,” the king shouted over Swinton’s rant. “I was the one who knew of your skills and needed your services elsewhere. Laird Sinclair was only a means to an end for us both.”

Cameron flattened his mouth. He did not appreciate how the king had described his role in Mariam’s care, but he had kept her safe, which had been his ultimate task when she was placed with him as his ward.

“Mariam is my daughter and I can do with her what I please,” Swinton hissed.

“I beg to disagree. Once you accepted the role as my pricker, Mariam became my responsibility, as my good