Chapter Four

T he well water had a fresh earthy flavor as Knox drank deeply from it. He’d finished going over the assignments for the day with the archers. They’d be spread thin that day, several posted on every wall surrounding the keep and a couple atop the castle.

As for himself, he had to speak to Sencha, then once again to Donald. Already he’d explained to Alexander that he wished to return to the fishing area and the village one last time in hopes of gathering more information before the laird and council would decide Donald McMurray’s fate.

There was a commotion, people running ahead and several others scurrying to see what was afoot as a coach, escorted by a group of mounted guards, rolled into the courtyard.

Alert to the possible threat, Knox raced to the side of the coach joining several other guards who did the same.

Heath MacTavish, a stout man who Knox recognized as a wealthy landowner climbed from the coach and looked to the other guards before zeroing in on him.

“I must speak to the laird immediately,” he demanded, face turning red.

“I will escort ye in, but ye must calm. We dinnae allow someone who is a possible threat into the great room where our laird presides.”

The man’s nostrils flared, but he managed a curt nod. “I am no threat to Laird Ross.” He motioned to the impressive lineup of guards.

“Yet ye bring an armed escort.” Knox glanced to the mounted guards. “Why is that?”

MacTavish huffed indignantly. “Protection on the road. Enough of this. I must speak to Alexander Ross.”

When the man managed to calm, he was escorted in by Knox and another guard. The armed guards were instructed to wait outside the gates, which they complied with.

Knox walked in with MacTavish, who described a battle between himself and the landowner to the south. Apparently the feud had taken a turn for the worse.

MacTavish’s visit turned out to be a favorable occurrence because when he was about to inform Alexander he was returning to the fishing village, the laird was heading out with the stout man in tow.

As Alexander exited the house along with his personal guard he stopped and told Knox, “McMurray’s trial will have to wait until the morrow. I must see about this feud and possibly another to manage the lands next to MacTavish’s, as those belong to Clan Ross.”

“I plan to return to the fishing huts today. I am sure McMurray didnae kill Fitz,” Knox informed his cousin.

Alexander had always been a fair man, but along with his title he carried the burden of ensuring justice was served. “See about it then.”

Knox returned to the great room crossing the space with long strides past tables where people sat either waiting for an audience with Cynden, who now sat in Alexander’s stead, or awaiting the next meal.

Clan Ross always fed those who were in the great room, whether there for an audience or not. Although the fare for those who didn’t live there was not the same, the meal was good and filled empty stomachs.

When spotting Sencha’s mother and her sister, he went to them. Both looked up with hope-filled expressions, only to return to worrying when he shook his head. “Nothing new as yet,” he informed them. “The trial will be delayed for another day. My cousin had to go see about an urgent matter.”

“Is that good news?” Sencha’s aunt asked wrenching her hands.

Knox nodded. “I believe it could help. Perhaps witnesses can be found that will prove yer husband’s innocence.”

“Where is Sencha?”

Her mother shrugged, not seeming to be worried in the least. “I have nae been able to speak to her as yet. She got up early and has been off somewhere. Perhaps with Nala.”

“I will find her and then head to the village to ask about any other witnesses.” Knox didn’t divulge his plans to go to the fishing huts, not wishing to give the already frayed women any false hope. It was probable, he’d not find out anything new that day.

Sencha was not with Nala or his aunt in the sitting room. Once he was satisfied she was not in the main house, he went out to the courtyard.

When nearing the storehouse, Fenella, a lass he’d been with in the woods, exited and upon seeing him walked directly toward him, with a purposeful sway to her hips and pout on her lips. “Ye have nae sought me out as of late. Should I be worried?” She traced a finger down his arm.

Fenella was a lustful wench, who’d always brought out the randy side of his personality. Unexplainably, this time he didn’t find her as appealing.

“Have ye seen Sencha?” he asked without preamble. He could have replied to her question, but he was beginning to worry.

Fenella’s bottom lip disappeared between her teeth, as she considered him. “She probably snuck away to meet a lover.”

An uncontrollable flinch was impossible to hide, but he recovered quickly clearing his throat. “So ye saw her leaving the keep then?”

The lass shrugged. “I have nae seen her.”

Without another word, Knox walked away. He didn’t believe for one moment that Sencha had a lover or was in a courtship for that matter. However, it was possible that she’d met with someone to help her in the quest to help her uncle.

After searching the garden and behind the main house, he was sure Sencha was gone, and he had a good idea where the willful woman had gone to. Grinding his teeth together, he sent a lad to fetch his steed.

Hendry walked out from the stables pulling his horse behind, just as a stable hand brought out his horse. The young man looked at him and flushed. “I was to give ye a message, but I could nae find ye earlier. Then with the laird leaving…”

“What is it?” Knox interrupted, not really interested in what was probably a message from one of the many women who pursued him.

“A lass came earlier to get a horse,” Thomas began and swallowed. “I forgot her name. She has red hair.”

“Sencha?” Knox blurted out.

“Aye, that is it. She asked that I inform ye that she headed to the fishing huts.”

Before the stable hand could continue, Knox grabbed the horse’s reins. “How long ago?”

“Earlier this morning, around first meal.”

Knox fought the urge to curse. It was obvious the boy had not tried to find him as he’d been in the practice fields for a while that morning. Not wishing to waste any more time, he mounted wordlessly.

“I will go with ye.” Hendry mounted and they guided the steeds through the courtyard and past the gates.

Urging the mounts to a canter, they rode side by side, scanning the surroundings in case Sencha was about. He doubted she’d stopped until reaching the seashore.

“She is important to ye,” Hendry stated glancing toward him. “Ye are aware that she is nae one to be played with.”

“What makes ye say that?” Knox asked, genuinely interested in any observation Hendry had.

His friend chuckled. “The worry lines around yer mouth and the furrow of yer brow. The way ye constantly search for her when entering the great room. It is nae only me that has noted it.”

“We need to hurry.” Knox ignored Hendry’s observations and prompted his mount to a gallop.

When they came to the fork in the road that would either take them to the village or to the seashore, they decided Hendry would go to the village and ask around both about Sencha and for witnesses who may have seen McMurray that morning.

“While asking about for witnesses and see if ye can find them.” Hendry lifted a hand in acknowledgement and urged his mount away leaving Knox to head in the other direction.

The air was cool across his face and Knox took in a deep breath. Had what Hendry said been the truth? Was he developing deep feelings for Sencha?

Of course he found her attractive, there was no denying the woman’s beauty. She was small in stature, with soft curves and pert breasts. Then there were those expressive eyes of hers, thickly lashed green pools. Her lips were pink and plump, alluring and demanding attention. It was a miracle the woman hadn’t yet been claimed.

Perhaps because she spent most of her days secluded at home with her mother, her only company until lately had been Nala. Now that Nala lived at the keep, Sencha visited regularly, which could only mean she would garner the attention of the many men there.

At the thought a protective urge surfaced taking him by surprise. Although at two and thirty, he was past the age to marry, he’d not given it much thought. He wasn’t sure to be the type of man to settle any time soon.

His parents had not lived long enough for him to ken their story, having died when he was but a bairn of four or five. He’d come to live at his uncle’s home, brought into the fold as one of five boys growing up together as brothers. Despite him not being treated any differently than Alexander, Munro, Gavin, and Cynden, he’d always known he was their cousin, the only child of their father’s brother.

Both his uncle and aunt had doted on him, ensuring he never wanted for anything. Upon dying the late laird went so far as to deed him land and coin, ensuring his brother’s son would never want for anything.

Still there had always been a hollow in his chest, a void left by his parents who’d died at sea. The fact that they would never return had yet to settle in his mind. How had they died? Why had fate been so unfair that they’d perished together? Knox would go weeks, months even without thinking about it. But then something would spark that feeling, bring back the hollow sensation that resided in his core. It was like a hunger that could never be fulfilled, not painful, but unable to be ignored.

Deep inside, he knew it was the reason why he couldn’t settle. Couldn’t marry. If the loss of his parents affected him for an entire lifetime, how much worse would it be to lose a wife?

Shaking himself from the pondering, he searched the seashore, his gaze scanning across the blue-gray expanse where the fishing boats floated atop. There were several far out to sea, barely visible, others remained closer.

From the shoreline, it was impossible to recognize who the men were and unless one recognized the boats and knew which belonged to whom, there was no way to tell who was out fishing that day.

The fishing huts came into view, most of them with doors closed and either mules or horses in attached pens. Carts that would take those who lived in town sat forlornly beside some of the huts. There were long tables crudely built to withstand the salty air and water, where the fishermen would clean the fish they’d caught. The planks of the table tied with sturdy ropes keeping them in place.

The wind whistled through the structures making an eerie sound, as he guided his horse to the long table and dismounted. The horse nudged him as if warning Knox to proceed with care. Reassuring the animal, he ran his palm down the long face. “All is well,” he whispered to the horse.

There didn’t seem to be anyone about until movement caught his attention. In the distance, an older man carried nets to a small boat. Knox jogged toward him, calling until the man looked up.

“Have ye seen a lass about?”

The fisherman shook his head. “Been feeling poorly and only just got up. I’ve nae seen anyone.”

“Is there a lad with a missing front tooth about? I must speak to him,” Knox tried again.

“That would be Willy. He comes and goes. Sometimes accompanies some of the fishermen out to earn coin.”

Both looked out to the sea as if they would spot the boy. No one was close enough that they could see if a boy was aboard.

Knox handed the man a coin and returned to where his horse was tethered. Deciding it was best to have a look about in case the boy or Sencha were there, he made his way past the first line of huts.

Just as he turned a corner, a man he recognized as Kyle, walked out of hut. At seeing him the man’s eyes widened. “What are ye doing here?” the man asked gruffly. “Dinnae think ye can steal anything. There is nothing worth taking.”

Knox gave him a droll look. “I am searching for a boy called Willy.”

The man’s eyes shifted toward the hut he’d just walked out of and shrugged. “The boy comes and goes.”

Knox kept his eyes on the other man’s hands. “Ye were to be a witness at the trial, why are ye nae at the keep?”

Again the man’s eyes shifted. “I have nothing more to say. Leave me be.”

It wasn’t worth his time. If the man would not come and testify, it would prove beneficial for Donald McMurray. By the jerky way the man moved he was hiding something, but in all probability, it had nothing to do with the murder, or with the lad.

Knox decided he would return to inspect the hut that this man was obviously trying to keep him from entering.

“We may return to ask ye more questions,” Knox informed the man before turning away.

“And be hung. I will nae ever go. Fitz deserved to die.”

Knox reached for his sword but as he started to turn back, a hard hit to the back of his head made him stumble forward.

The second, he barely felt.