Page 48 of The Herald's Heart
CHAPTER NINE
Timoras stared accusingly at Larkin. Cleve’s face pinched with concern. Mother Clement gave her casual study. But only Talon’s stony visage caused her to quail.
She slid her gaze to the priest. “How dare you accuse me when you had more chance than I to place poisoned candles in the chapel, since I never entered the room in my life.”
The father’s expression was smug. “But when I left, the candles in the chapel were already half used. Those could not have been poisoned, since the earl and I both had prayed in the chapel while they burned.”
“You have no proof of that,” she protested. The lack of proof would not matter to Timoras; he would condemn her anyway, as would many others. Nor would it matter that the earl had been a cruel, evil man. Murder was murder and punished by death. Experience told her that justice occurred rarely. Would it hurt to die? Would God forgive her, even though she was not a murderess or a liar? She’d done her best to live a good life. And all would be for naught if she did not defend herself. Did not make all effort to prove her innocence.
“I saw the candles replaced, Larkin,” Cleve muttered. “Indeed, I recall the earl had to get new candles himself, and him being angry at Timoras because of it.”
At the guard’s words, her head spun. She gripped the wooden seat beneath her to steady herself. “But the candles were wrapped and sealed. Only the earl or Father Timoras may break the seals. Talon, I could not have done this.” She turned to him because proof would matter to him. He believed in her, trusted her. At least he said he did.
“You managed to deceive this entire keep into believing the place haunted. You’ve lied on a number of other occasions. I am certain you could manage a deception that would allow poisoned candles to be placed in the chapel, whether you placed them personally or not.” He spoke with chilling calm.
“Larkin, to whom do you give the candles when you deliver them?” Mother Clement asked gently.
“I give the tallow candles to the cook and the beeswax ones directly to Father Timoras.” She glared at the priest who glowered back. “What he does with them, I cannot say, since I am forbidden to enter the keep.”
“Did you suffer from itchweed rash after your last delivery?”
Still aware of Talon’s icy stare, Larkin lowered her head and clasped her hands atop the table. What a fool she’d been to think Talon’s trust reliable. He might still believe she was Lady Rosham, but he would see that as even more motive to kill the earl.
“Nay, but they were wrapped and sealed when I received them,” she whispered, certain that no one who heard would listen. For most of the previous night, she’d prayed for strength to be near Talon yet never touch him as more than a trusting and trusted friend. She would need that strength now, but not to resist desire—desire was as dead as the earl. No, she needed all the strength God would give to survive the accusations, to prove her innocence
“The beeswax candles are always wrapped in cloth to protect them from scratches. The earl was most particular about that and would accept nothing around him that was flawed,” Timoras offered.
“So Father Timoras’s accusations may possess some truth.” Talon’s tone was flat. “Cleve, get two of the castle guards, now.”
The man left running.
Larkin whipped her head up at Talon’s icy statement. “I did not murder the Earl of Hawksedge.”
His lip curled. “So you say. But I remind you that you’ve uttered many an untruth in the time I have been at Hawksedge.”
She flinched as his words lashed at her. She had never lied. But none, not even the one man who’d claimed to trust her, would believe her. He seemed determined to place a noose around her neck for something she had not done. She had no defense. Not even the truth. So be it. She would not cower before fate. “Believe what you will. I did not put itchweed in those candles. I did not plot to murder the earl. No one can prove that I did.”
“Despite your protests, I know you had many reasons to want the earl dead. Justice, revenge, the Rosham title and lands are only the motives I am certain of. You had the means to kill him and the opportunity. As you say, none can prove that you did this murder. But until I can decide what is to be done, I must consider your safety and hold you prisoner.”
She snorted. “You fear I would escape, more like.”
“I do. I also fear that someone will hear of the earl’s death and try to exact the same kind of justice you think has been visited on the earl.”
Cleve returned with the guards.
“Take Larkin to the solar. Keep her there, with two guards on the door at all times.” Wood had more feeling than Talon’s voice.
“Aye, Sir Talon.” Cleve held his hand out to her. “Come.”
She took the soldier’s hand and rose. “Do not do this, Talon.”
“A moment, Cleve, Sir Talon,” interrupted Mother Clement. “Larkin and Timoras are not the only persons with access to those candles.”
“Who else?”
“The anchoress, Dame Margery, makes the candles. ’Tis how she contributes to the holy work of the abbey.”
“Surely you do not suggest that the anchoress did this foul deed.” Timoras’s eyes showed white with shock.
