Page 63 of Rescued By the Highland Warrior
“I dinnae think yer faither wrote that letter,” she said. “The other two letters,” she said, turning them over in her hands. “They have slightly different penmanship, an’ they were written on different types o’ paper. What is Lennox’ an’ Malcolm’s relation tae one another?” She asked absentmindedly.
“Why?” Roderick asked.
There was a glint in Moira’s eyes—sharp, unwavering, and filled with a determination Roderick couldn’t quite place.
“Lennox’ sister married Malcolm, makin’ her Fiona’s maither,” he said.
“An’ what will happen if Lennox, who is old an’ sickly, dies ‘afore Fiona marries?”
“Well,” Roderick said, his brow furrowing. “Lennox never married. All o’ Lennox’s leases fer agricultural lands are tied tae his name, so if he dies, he risks those leases expirin’. Malcolm is helpin’ wi’ farmin’ those lands an’ a lot o’ their wealth is tied tae those leases.”
“What about Fiona? Is she nae Lennox’s heir?” Moira demanded.
“The leases could never go tae her because she is a woman.”
Moira nodded, the wheels were turning fast in her mind, and it appeared that something had fallen into place.
“I think yer faither was killed by Lennox. I think he wanted tae push this marriage between ye and Malcolm’s daughter in order tae ensure that the Fraser lands would be tied to his family line.”
Roderick moved to the other side of the room, where he sat at the edge of his bed, his mind working through what Moira had just said.
“But why?” he questioned. “Why would he kill me faither fer that, why nae just set up the marriage?”
“Because I think yer faither was actually against it. That is why he had tae kill him, probablu usin’ hemlock.”
“Hemlock?”
“Aye,” Moira said, coming toward him. “I wrote tae Edin, me good friend, a member of the Triad who specializes in poisons an’ herbs. She confirmed that wi’ the right dose, hemlock can poison tae the point o’ death, causing the type of symptoms yer faither had. There were both monkshood and hemlock in the healer’s chambers, but the symptoms she described were different.”
“But how would he have managed tae dae this?” Roderick asked, leaning forward as his elbows rested on his knees.
With a sympathetic look in her eyes, Moira knelt before him, placing her hands gently on his.
“He must have started it durin’ the huntin’ trip, an’ increased the dose once they returned tae the castle,” she said softly, although she didn’t slow her pace. “Due tae Lennox being sick himself, it would have been easy fer him tae move in an’ out o’ the healer’s room without raisin’ any suspicion.”
“Sweet mercy,” Roderick exhaled, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He clenched his jaw, the weight of what had just been said settling heavy on his chest. “If this is true, then Lennox has been plottin’ this fer a long time.”
“Aye,” Moira said, coming to sit beside him. “An’ it was Lennox who was in the corridor and the passageway an’ by yer faither’s chambers. He had been going in there tae use yer faither’s paper and ink tae write that letter. I noticed, although I am only now piecing it together, that after yer fight in the passageway—his condition deteriorated sharply. That would make sense if he had been wounded by yer dagger. He probably knew about the secret passages from Malcom. He was a childhood friend of yer faither’s and they probably played in them together as bairns. It is possible Lennox also found out from him that yer faither went tae the lodge fer some peace an’ quiet, which is why he kenned where tae hide the letter… what he didn’t think of was removing his real letters that he kept hidden there.”
Roderick nodded, a silence settling upon them, as Moira interlaced her fingers with his.
“What dae ye think?” She asked.
“I ken what I have tae dae.”
Roderick rushed downstairs to the main hall. He told Moira to stay in his chambers, and to his surprise she obliged.
He didn’t want Moira around when he did what he had to do. It was too dangerous, and the last thing he wanted was for her to get caught in the middle.
The lively music sounded in the background, as Roderick stormed back into the main hall. Around him, people were dancing merrily, drinking and toasting, totally oblivious to the treachery that had been enacted.
He scanned the room frantically for Lennox, but he was nowhere to be found.
“Aye, me laird,” a Councilman came up to him. “It is a fine feast, are ye an’ yer betrothed nae goin’ tae have a dance?”
“Dae ye ken where Lennox is?” Roderick asked him hurriedly. He had no time to waste, not knowing what he knew.
“Nay, me laird, me apologies,” he responded, bowing away.
