Free Highland Destiny by Hannah Howell Page A

for possessing such knowledge about their enemy. The truth, that she had learned all she could about Beaton so that she could more easily kill the man, would be viewed by the Murrays with distrust and, quite possibly, distaste.
    “How do ye come to ken that?” demanded Balfour.
    “I was searching for my kinsmen in and around Dubhlinn.”
    “Ye are the kinswoman of a Beaton?”
    The way Balfour said that, as if she had just told him that she had the plague, reaffirmed Maldie’s decision to never tell him her true parentage. “Nay, my kinsmen are minstrels. I had followed their trail to Duhblinn and lingered in an attempt to discover which way they had traveled upon leaving the place. The Beatons who kindly took me into their home were an aging couple in the village.”
    “Why did ye say naught? Ye kenned that we were fighting Beaton.”
    “I am no warrior, Sir Balfour. I didnae ken that ye would be interested in what little I saw or heard. I wasnae there when your young brother was taken, either.”
    Balfour sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then tried to rub away the sudden stiffness in the back of his neck. “I beg your pardon, Mistress Kirkcaldy. I didnae mean to insult or accuse you. With each day that Eric lingers in that mon’s hold, I grow more concerned for his safety and, aye, mayhap see betrayal where it doesnae exist. Even now, I have found myself wondering how the mon kenned where and when to wait to capture the lad, and that has made suspicion set itself deep in my heart.”
    “No need for such a humble apology,” she said. “Ye are at war and I am a stranger.”
    “Balfour,” Nigel drew his brother’s attention away from Maldie, “do ye really think someone has betrayed us? That someone here actually helped Beaton gain hold of Eric?”
    “Aye. I wonder that I ne’er thought of the possibility before,” Balfour replied.
    As the brothers discussed who could possibly have betrayed them and why, Maldie idly tidied the room. She was heartily relieved that Balfour’s interest in her and what she knew had been diverted. She had spoken too quickly, without thought. Minstrels, she decided, were a good choice of kinsmen, however, for few knew many by name, andtheir wandering ways meant that even fewer could be expected to know where they were. All she had to do was think of a name for them. There was a good chance that Balfour would never ask, but she wanted to be prepared with an answer.
    The tangle of lies had begun to twist around her. It both alarmed and dismayed Maldie. She had rarely lied before. It was apparent that she had some skill in the art, but she felt no pride in that. Even though she did not want it to be true, she had to admit that lying to Balfour was especially painful. That he accepted her lies without question, even apologized for having reasonable suspicions about her, only made her more disgusted with herself. Deceiving someone was not something she liked to do. She was sure that deceiving someone who had taken her into his home and easily trusted her was a sin that could well stain her soul for a long time.
    Maldie was pulled from her dark thoughts by the stealthy entrance of Grizel. She would not have known the woman was even in the room except that she was in between the ill-smelling woman and the tray she had been sent to retrieve. As Grizel brushed by her, Maldie had to clench her hands against the urge to wipe herself off. It was as if that light, swift touch had left her soiled, almost as if some of Grizel’s filth and smell had clung to her. Maldie noticed that the moment she had looked at Grizel, had acknowledged the woman’s presence, she had ceased to move so quietly. The two men talking so intently about forthcoming battles and possible betrayals were still completely unaware of the woman.
    Grizel picked up the tray, turned to leave, and glanced toward the two men by the bed before marching out of the room. Maldie shuddered, chilled by the look on the woman’s