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disappeared, or even where they have gone. I
do not care if you Lammergeier truly are sorcerors or even the
thieves you are reputed to be.” The laird blinked at this but
Murdoch let the other man see his determination. “I want only the
relic belonging to my family returned to me.”
    The laird averted his gaze. “I am sorry that
I have no way of doing such a deed.”
    Murdoch knew a lie when he heard one. “Yet
you do not even ask me what it is.” He paced the width of the room
with measured steps. “You do not ask when it disappeared, or how it
was secured, or when it last was viewed.” He paused before the
laird once more. “You merely deny all knowledge.” He folded his
arms across his chest to regard the laird. “There are those who
might suggest your manner speaks of guilt.”
    “You will not insult me in my own hall!” the
laird declared.
    “I will let no man steal from my family and
live to tell of it!” Murdoch retorted. “I will let no man leave
those sworn to my brother’s hand to suffer or starve. I will not
see my father’s memory tainted and I will not see injustice
endure.” He leaned toward the laird. “I will suffer no such loss
for the sake of mere greed.”
    The laird looked ill. He pressed his
fingertips to his temples. “I do not have it,” he said quietly.
    “But I think you know where it is.”
    “I do not.”
    “Or where it might be.” Murdoch leaned on the
laird’s board with his fists. “I invite you to confide in me, or
face the consequences.”
    There was real fear in the laird’s eyes for a
moment then.
    Murdoch caught the merest glimpse of it,
before the younger man turned his attention to his correspondence
with vigor. He tugged at a piece of vellum trapped beneath
Murdoch’s fist and spoke quickly. “I regret that I can do nothing
to aid you in this quest.”
    “Perhaps you might recall some detail in
time,” Murdoch said softly. “I will wait. I can be a most patient
man.”
    The laird looked unconvinced of that. “I
think it unlikely, sir, that I shall have such a recollection. So
far as I know, the relic is in your family’s care.” The laird took
a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “And if there is a thief
in your brother’s holding, Murdoch Seton, I cannot be expected to
answer for his crimes.”
    “I expect you only to answer for your own,
sir, as all men must do.”
    Murdoch saw anger flash in the laird’s eyes,
but he spun to leave. There was nothing to be gained here, not so
long as the laird believed he could deny all knowledge of the theft
and its location. But Murdoch knew when a man obscured the truth,
as this one did, and he had no intention of returning to Duncan
without his rightful prize.
    Already Murdoch began to form a plan of how
he might encourage the laird’s memory. It was bold and risky, and
he was already enamored of it.
    Murdoch opened the door to a flurry of skirts
and spied the lady Isabella fleeing.
    She had listened.
    She might know more than her brother would
admit. This alluring maiden with her potent curiosity might be a
useful ally to him.
    Though that was not the sole reason Murdoch
gave chase.
     
    * * *
     
    Isabella heard Murdoch’s determined steps
crossing the floor of Alexander’s chamber too late to hide herself.
She turned to flee down the stairs to the hall, knowing Murdoch
would see her, but hoping he would not pursue her.
    Even as she had the thought, she knew it to
be a futile hope. A man so filled with determination as Murdoch
would not surrender a chase simply because she ran.
    Isabella heard his tread behind her on the
stairs, even as she raced for the second floor. If she could but
get inside the chamber she shared with her sisters, she could bolt
the door against him. She reached the second floor landing, but did
not imagine she was safe. She heard that he again took the stairs
several at a time, his height giving him an advantage. She lunged
for the door to the chamber.
    Isabella had just