"At least someone tried."

He made a moue of mock sympathy. "Poor Fayth, even Mona has abandoned you. Freed the big knight and followed her loins, eh?"

Fayth ignored him, wanting him to just go away.

Seeing she wasn't going to play his game today, he sighed and said, "Oh-about the poison hidden in your kirtle, I replaced it with berry juice some time ago, in case you decided to use it on me."

He laughed at her shocked expression. By the time she ripped the vial from its pocket and hurled it at the door, he was long gone. Fayth went to the bed. The dog climbed up beside her and lay its head in her lap.

"What shall I do?" she asked the dog, stroking her fingers through the silky fur. She couldn't give up hope. There had to be a means of escape. No castle was impenetrable, from the inside or out-her father had taught her that. And once she was free, she'd find Mona. Ridley would stop at nothing to get the Blood Stone. And that's what he believed Mona to be doing-fetching the Blood Stone out of hiding to deliver to Caroline and her new husband, Robert Maxwell.

If he was truly following Mona's movements then she must be warned. And besides, Mona was all Fayth had left. Like Fayth's sister Caroline, Mona had been mother and friend to her. Fayth had lost Caroline, but she would not give Mona up. She chewed at her thumbnail, certain that if she thought hard enough, she could overcome this obstacle and find her stepmother.

0="2"2.

RIDLEY LEFT HIS sister's room for the fine chambers Lord Carlisle provided for him, fists clenching and unclenching all the way. He was impatient for action and worried Fayth would ruin everything. She was more trouble than she was worth. He could hardly wait to be rid of her.

"Wine," he said, lowering himself into the chair before the fire. His servant, Gilford, was there seconds later, pressing a goblet of his finest claret into his palm. Ridley had brought his own, as most Scots wine was swill. He drank deeply. His belly calmed, filling with warmth. He sighed, wiping his hand across his lips.

Gilford hovered behind him, anxious to please. He'd been servant to Ridley's father, secure in his position. With Hugh not even a year in the grave, Gilford's position was now precarious. He was loyal and trustworthy, but he was a constant reminder of Father, a man Ridley strove to forget. Both his mother and father had been cold and unloving creatures-unfit to parent rats. Well, to him at least. It still cankered that his siblings had been so coddled and himself, ruled with an iron fist. He was nine years older than Caroline, his closest sibling in age, so he'd never felt any true kinship to anyone. Father had claimed he was hard on Ridley because he was heir. But Ridley knew it had been more than that. In Hugh Graham's eyes Ridley lacked most of the essential qualities he valued in men: honor, integrity, and loyalty. But Hugh had never looked hard enough.

What did it matter. Ridley had stopped caring long ago. It only troubled him now because it was his father's fault that his siblings were so d.a.m.n contentious. Ridley sighed, needing release.

"Find me a woman," he ordered Gilford. "And be certain she is not a toothless trull this time."

"Yes, my lord," Gilford murmured and left the room.

He needed to forget. More than his nasty sister, he was haunted by the memory of his stepmother. He'd tried, with little success, to put Mona's betrayal from his mind and his heart. And sometimes he was successful. It was difficult to be unhappy when all his carefully laid plans were beginning to bear fruit. Even with such incredibly willful sisters, he was still achieving his dreams.

But dreams could be an empty thing, when you faced them alone. He stared at the flames, his jaw set, rigid. He'd loved his stepmother. He'd given her everything, his heart, his body, his fortune, laid at her feet. And it was not enough. It had been the same with his father-never enough.

And Fayth constantly rubbed salt in the wounds. Refused to let them heal-always throwing in his face how Mona abhorred him, would rather throw herself from the highest precipice than endure his touch. At least he would soon be rid of Fayth. His sister could vex him, but she could not divert destiny anymore than Mona could.

There was a scratch on the door. Ridley bid them enter, unhooking his doublet. He turned, expecting a woman and finding instead, his brother.

Ridley stood, disgusted. "What is it, Wesley?"

Wesley's jaw was rigid with tension. He was a slight man, but not one to underestimate. From experience Ridley had learned the smaller they were-the meaner. And every bone in Wesley's body was cantankerous. He had once worshipped Ridley, tagged after him like a puppy. But, of course, like everything else, that had changed. He'd become greedy. But he could still be bent to Ridley's will. Wesley had fought him on marrying Caroline to Lord Annan, but in the end, he'd been obedient.

Wesley seemed to be framing his words in his mind, trying to find the right phrase.

Ridley raised his eyebrows in expectant impatience.

As usual, finding nothing adequate in his common little brain, Wesley blurted out, "Carlisle-I cannot abide him. It makes me ill to think of him with Fayth."

"Then do not think on it." Ridley held his goblet out for a refill.

Wesley stared at the vessel belligerently, then looked about the room. Seeing no servants, he s.n.a.t.c.hed the goblet away. "I cannot help it." He strode to the table and poured the claret.

Ridley sighed and accepted the goblet thrust into his hand. "Must we go over this again? Fayth is to wed Carlisle-there is nothing else for it."

"You're wrong. We follow Red Alex's lead and take Gealach. I'd like to see Carlisle oppose us!"

Ridley's irritation won over. He set the goblet aside and advanced on his brother, pushing him hard so he stumbled backward. "Do you hear yourself? Alexander Maxwell holds Gealach by no more than his sword arm. Were Carlisle dead, he still has no claim to the land. Until he owns it outright he will never stop fighting to hang onto his pathetic little tower. He has less than three score men; he does not stand a chance against me. When I take something, it will be mine beyond doubt. Do you understand? I will not wage constant battle just to survive. I am more than a simple thief and reiver."

Wesley jerked his head away, hating the truth.

"Now. The tower is yours, as I've said. And you have the pleasure of wresting it from the outlaw. But I need this marriage for more than the tower-you know that well. Should there be a war, I will be first in line to claim the spoils of my many kinsmen."

Wesley turned back, another defiant question in his eyes. "What of Lord Annan? He will be furious when I kill his brother. Will that not ruin all your other plans?"

Ridley smiled. "The deed, you fool. I'm merely taking what is mine. What can Lord Annan say? Alexander Maxwell holds Gealach by will alone. The land belongs to Carlisle and will soon pa.s.s to me. No one-not even his brother-can fault me for taking what's mine." He pointed a finger at Wesley before turning away. "Even Lord Annan understands that."

Wesley was silent. Ridley took up his wine again, impatient for the woman. He was about to send his brother away when Wesley said, so softly Ridley almost didn't hear him, "But... is it worth it?"

Ridley hurled the goblet at Wesley. It caught him in the temple and drenched him in crimson. Wesley's teeth were bared, his lips peeled back, but he made no move forward.

"Is it worth it?" Ridley came at Wesley, grabbed handfuls of his doublet and shook him. "Father left you nothing. He provided dowries for your sisters-but you, he left nothing." That wasn't entirely true, but with the help of Ridley's expert forgers, that's what Ridley's version of Hugh Graham's will read.

Wesley's hands came up, gripping Ridley's wrists tightly. His control was tenuous, Ridley could see that. It was becoming tiresome, keeping Wesley in line. Each encounter became more impa.s.sioned, more violent. Soon Wesley would not be swayed, might even strike back. And so, soon, Ridley would rid himself of his brother. An accident. But for now, he was still useful.

"I am giving you land and power. Why do you doubt me?"

"I'm not doubting you." Wesley jerked away, rubbing his hands over his forehead. "I simply don't understand why we must give our sisters to monsters. There must be another way."

"Do you truly believe Carlisle is a monster?"

Wesley opened his mouth to answer, but Ridley held up a silencing hand. "I recall you returning from Annancreag less than two months ago, ranting incessantly about what a monster Lord Annan was."

Wesley's mouth snapped shut.

Ridley smiled. "You see? And when you tried to rescue her, what happened?"

Wesley looked away, his skin flushing. Ridley knew the incident still infuriated Wesley, that he hadn't forgiven Caroline for what to him was the ultimate betrayal-falling in love with the enemy, Lord Annan.

"She didn't want to be rescued. She'd fallen in love with her monster and his monstrous ways." Ridley shook his head. "Really, Wesley, give it up. It's beginning to reek of something incestuous."

Wesley's jaw jutted out until it popped, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "I've killed men for less than what you accuse me of."

Ridley blinked innocently. "You think I say these things?" He shook his head. "Nay, nay, Brother. 'Tis what the men whisper. You love your sisters too dearly. I'm only warning you. A leader who inspires disgust is no leader at all."

Wesley looked away, his head bobbing in a sharp nod.

"Good," Ridley said as the door opened and a female servant was led in. "Tomorrow, you will ride on Gealach."

"Yes, my lord." Wesley's gaze was on the woman, his expression inscrutable. She stared at her feet.

Ridley approached the woman and circled her. She was a pretty thing-in need of a bath, but young and ripe.