Wynda nodded.

"I need them taken out. Skelley and the others can handle the rest. Can you do that for me?"

"Not to worry. We've the situation in hand. I sent all the guards some of me specially spiced ale this morn, just to be spiteful, see, as they wilna leave me la.s.sies alone. But I'll send down more straightaway."

Alex grimaced. He'd had some of Wynda's "special" ale before and found himself unable to stray far from a closestool or garderobe for several days for fear of ruining his breeks.

"Aye, thank you. That'll do fine."

"They won't notice a thing, too busy squattin' in the rocks, they'll be!"

The guards near the kitchen door roused themselves to wander over by Alex and Wynda. Alex made the sign of the cross over the birds turning on the spit and moved away, to join Father Rae who still droned on and on.

"That's enough," Alex hissed.

Father Rae stopped abruptly and cleared his throat. "Ah... Amen." He turned and gave Alex an expectant look.

He urged the priest out of the kitchen and back into the great hall. "Now you will offer to hear Mistress Graham's confession before her wedding. I cannot go with you. At the very least Lord Graham will have us searched, I cannot chance it. So you must do this."

Father Rae nodded.

"Tell her I am here. Give her this." He reached under his robes and into his shirt, yanking the bead from around his neck. He pressed it into Father Rae's palm. "Tell her to be ready."

The priest started to turn away. Alex caught his shoulder. "When I took Laine from the monastery he told me everything. I swore to him I would never tell a soul so long as I lived. But I wrote it down. It's safe for the moment, but if aught happens to me, it goes straight to the abbot of Dunfermline. Do you understand?"

Father Rae swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, and nodded. Alex released him and watched him cross the room to address one of the guards. A moment later the guard led him up the steps and out of sight.

Alex turned away, surveying the hall. Now he must find a way to get into the tunnels below the larder and speak to Skelley.

Fayth didn't acknowledge the knock on her door. She stood at the window, staring down into the bailey. A cloud of dust billowed through the gate, followed by a score of mounted riders, bearing Ridley's crest. Fayth recognized the rider at the front. Wesley. Her heart leaped, only to drop sickeningly. He would not help her.

She turned away as the door opened. A priest entered wearing a shabby alb and tattered vestments. He had a long face and close-set eyes. He tried to close the door behind him, but Ridley shoved the door open and followed.

The priest frowned. "It is not seemly for you to be present."

"Nevertheless, present I am."

The priest seemed genuinely fl.u.s.tered by Ridley's insistence on staying.

"Can I not give my last confession in private, Brother?"

Ridley rolled his eyes. "It's hardly your last confession."

"It's my last as a maiden woman. My last before this evil deed is done."

"I suspect you've not been a maiden for some while," Ridley sneered. "Get on with your papist rituals! It's time to get this over with. I cannot tarry here another day."

"Hot on Mona's trail, eh?"

The priest cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Come to the window, child."

Fayth followed him. She instinctively didn't like him and wished for Father Jasper if she must be shriven.

"Give me your hands."

Fayth held her hands out, one eye on Ridley.

The priest covered her hands with his, pressing something small and hard into her palm. Fayth instinctively looked downward, but the priest whispered, "No. Just listen."

Fayth froze, her gaze locked on the silver enameled rosary around his neck. "He is here. Be ready."

Then he drew away from her, making the sign of the cross over her bent head and mumbling incoherent prayers.

Ridley stepped forward. "What was that?"

The priest stumbled over an excuse while Fayth dropped her hands, burying the gift in her skirts.

Ridley pushed the priest aside. "What's in your hand?"

Fayth shook her head blankly. "Nothing."

Ridley came at her. Fayth backed away, but was unable to move quickly due to her ma.s.sive gown and bruised state. He grabbed her elbow and jerked her around, yanking her fist up. Fayth fought him, kicking at his ankles and jerking her arm away. He knocked her feet from beneath her and the next moment her face was pressed into the floorboards, her brother sitting on her bottom like she was eight years old again. He twisted her arm behind her back while she screeched her fury and indignation, and pried her fingers open.

Then the weight was gone. Fayth rose slowly to her knees. The veil that had been pinned carefully to her hair dangled from her ear, pulling wisps of hair from the tight knot at her nape.

Ridley stared into his palm in disbelief. Fayth was becoming desperate to discover what the priest had given her, but before she could get to her feet Ridley struck the priest across the face. Blood sprayed from the priest's mouth.

Fayth was stunned. What had Ridley become, that he would strike a man of G.o.d? The priest cowered near the door, arms shielding his head, babbling something about the knave threatening to kill him.

Ridley yanked open the door and shoved the priest out, calling over his shoulder, "There will be no more delays!"

The door slammed shut, leaving Fayth, utterly bewildered, still kneeling on the floor. She stood, fumbling to remove the veil from her hair. She'd hardly smoothed her hair back when the door opened and two guards entered.

"Mistress Graham? Your groom awaits you."

With a sickening sense of doom and fate nearly averted, Fayth let them usher her from the room.

0="21"21.

SOMETHING HAD GONE terribly wrong, though Alex had yet to determine exactly what. He'd returned from the larder-Wynda's daughters had managed to thoroughly distract the Grahams in the kitchen-to find Wesley Graham had arrived with even more armed men and the wedding already in progress.

He tried not to panic as he slid along the wall, toward the dais where a dozen people cl.u.s.tered. A rather pathetic wedding party, made up of Ridley, the bride and groom, and no one else. Fayth was there, one arm held by Ridley, the other by Carlisle, though from the look of her it seemed they supported rather than restrained her. Her face was wan, her eyes round and bleak, her slight body completely obscured under the armor of silk and jewels adorning her.

Didn't she know? Alex pulled his gaze away from her to settle on Father Rae. Sweat leaked down the sides of the priest's face and thin trickles of blood tracked his chin. His hands were clasped tightly in front him, but still shook. A guard stood beside him with a naked sword.

Jesus G.o.d, they'd been caught.

Alex was frantic. She could not say her vows. His men were not due to burst through the larder for another half hour, at least. And yet, by Fayth's expression of utter defeat, she'd given up hope of rescue. Was Father Rae discovered before he delivered the bead?

Alex was armed to the teeth beneath his monk's robes. But what use was it all in a nest of Grahams and Carlisles? Regardless, he had no choice. Ridley would waste no time. Once the words were said, Carlisle and Fayth would be closed up together to consummate. That could not happen.