Page 45 of Wild Hearts

"My daughter. Where is she?" demanded Magnus.

Abrahams's agile brain told him his only defense was to plead ignorance. "Your Grace," said Abrahams, for he could clearly see the crests of the Earl of Ormistan, "I fear you have made a mistake. The only female who lives here is my wife."

As Magnus advanced upon him, the smaller man backed up, until his back was pressed into the large desk. Magnus continued, "I don't suffer fools gladly. We both know the only reason you wed her was because she was an earl's daughter. What have you done with her?" demanded Magnus in a most threatening tone.

"Your daughter?" Abrahams babbled. incredulously. "I am sure it is a case of mistaken identity and there is an explanation in all this."

"That's simply remedied," said Magnus, jabbing him sharply in the chest. "Produce the girl!"

"We had a disastrous fire here in the night. For safety's sake she has left the house and is staying with a neighbor," he soothed.

"Liar!" accused Magnus. He gestured to his lieutenant and scanned the servants' faces. "That one." He pointed to Donald, the large, soft young man. The man-at-arms, let his sword pierce the muscle in Donald's upper arm, and straight off he started screaming and babbling.

"The truth," cautioned Magnus.

"My master took the girl to bed. She wouldn't perform her wifely duties. She threw lighted candles into the bed and escaped from the house:"

"Did you go after her?" he demanded.

"We have searched the whole area. We found nothing."

Magnus, relieved Tabrizia was no longer under this roof, was nevertheless worried about what might happen to her on the streets of Edinburgh. He turned speculative eyes upon his quarry. "Have. you made a new will naming my daughter your sole beneficiary?"

"Of course not," said Abrahams.

"An oversight, I'm sure," purred Magnus. "Get round yon desk and take up your quill."

"This is totally unnecessary, Your Grace. Of course my wife will be generously provided for upon my d— when the time comes." Suddenly the acrid smell of charred wood sent a wave of nausea through him. "I've just paid a ransom in gold for the girl that put a scar on my finances stretching from abdomen to jugular!" he cried desperately.

"Jugular?" echoed Magnus with unmistakable emphasis. "Write!"

Abrahams began to write.

"Date it the day of your marriage," directed Magnus, pulling out his dirk and jabbing it into the beautifully polished desk, close beside Abrahams's hand. Abrahams did as he was told and stepped away from the desk.

"How fortunate we have so many witnesses ready and eager to affix their signatures to this document." Magnus grinned as he hustled the servants toward the desk.

With the swiftness and agility of a black panther, Abrahams slipped a knife from his sleeve and hurled it at Magnus's back. The deadly missile found its mark, but Magnus was wearing a protective leather-and-mail vest beneath his doublet, and the knife was harmlessly deflected.

Maxwell Abrahams paled visibly as he realized his doom was now sealed. The men were vociferous in their threats and were demanding a prinking, a horrible Border custom of killing a man with hundreds of swordpricks, but Magnus simply stepped forward and grabbed Abrahams by the throat. He crushed his windpipe in a vicious grip and Abrahams was dead before he hit the floor.

His men dispatched each of the servants by deftly slitting their throats. Magnus's lieutenant suggested they fire the house to get rid of the evidence, and Magnus agreed it was the logical thing to do.

The Earl of Ormistan was climbing the front steps of his town house before the cry of fire went up on the other side of town.

CHAPTER 10

When Mrs. McLaren, the housekeeper, saw the earl's men follow him right into the town house, she was surprised for the second time that day. The men were usually housed in the stables, not inside the private residence. She heard the earl shouting his orders to the men at his back. "I want Edinburgh searched from top to bottom— every street and narrow wynd from the South Bridge to the Mercat Cross. Scour the slums from Tanner's Close to the Grassmarket, but find her!"

Concern was clearly etched upon Mrs. McLaren's plain features. She approached the earl with many reservations. "Yer Grace, ye wouldn't be searchin' for a wee redheaded lass, would ye?"

"Aye, Mrs. McLaren, what do ye know of her?" he demanded.

"Nothing much, Yer Grace, except she be upstairs asleep."

An incredulous grin came over Magnus's face until it almost lit up the room. "My daughter is here?" he boomed happily.

"Aye, Yer Grace. Leastwise, that's who she said she was."

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