Highland Sinner. Hannah Howell

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СКАЧАТЬ so verra particular at times, but I do prefer to at least ken the lass I lie down with, to enjoy a wee bit more than her soft skin and womanly heat.”

      It occurred to Tormand that he could not think of all that many of his lovers who met even Simon’s mild standards. He refused to think that he really was what his cousin Maura had once called him—a stallion too stupid to charge coin for his stud services. After all, as far as he knew he had sired no bastards and was not that the sole purpose of a stud? Unfortunately, the longer he considered the matter, the more he began to fear that he had become as mindlessly greedy as Simon implied. Over the last few years it appeared that his qualifications for a bedmate were little more than that she be attractive, relatively clean, and willing. Mostly willing. It was such an unsettling conclusion that he was actually glad to turn his thoughts back to the matter of Clara’s brutal murder.

      “Did ye find nothing that pointed the finger of guilt at someone besides me?” he asked Simon, ignoring the flash of amusement in Simon’s eyes that told him Simon was well aware of his attempt to turn the subject away from his love life.

      “Nay,” replied Simon. “There was naught but your ring to show that anyone had been in that room with Clara. That and, of course, the simple fact that Clara could not have tied herself to that bed and then cut herself to pieces. Her servants heard and saw nothing.”

      “How can that be? Clara would have shattered her fine windows with her screams at the first glimpse of a knife.”

      “True, but I believe she was gagged. I saw the signs of it in what was left of her face.”

      Tormand forced himself to recall carefully all that he had seen. “Aye, she had to have been. And, I begin to wonder if she was actually tortured elsewhere. Considering all the damage done to her I should have woken up lying in a pool of her blood. There was a lot and I do have the feeling she died in that bed, but now I feel sure it was not where all of that cutting was done.”

      Simon nodded. “I believe the same. Even with a gag on her, someone should have heard something. It was evident that she violently fought against the bindings on her wrists and ankles. The bed would also have resounded with the struggles she made and yet her servants had not even thought she was home.”

      “Then her killer knew how to slip in and out of her house without being seen.”

      “Aye, which means they knew her, e’en if not weel.” Simon grimaced. “Considering all the many lovers Clara had, I doubt all the secret ways into her home were e’er really that secret. The servants would never have considered any noises coming from her bedchamber worthy of concern save for some bloodcurdling screams. So, they truly heard nothing as they claim. I shall return to Clara’s home and see if I can find any blood trail that will confirm that she was brought in after she was tortured.” He took another long drink of ale. “In a little while. I sent word to her husband and would rather not be there when he first sees what is left of his wife. He didnae love her and she didnae love him, but he did appreciate her beauty.”

      “I didnae love her, either, but the sight of her body fair to made me sick.”

      “And Ranald doesnae have the spine to hold fast as ye did. That isnae why I wish to avoid the mon for a wee while, however. Once he recovers, he will act the great, important laird and demand I find out who killed her. He will also spit out a lot of useless information, as weel as a few threats about what will happen to me if I dinnae find Clara’s killer. He always makes me wish to shake the arrogance out of him and, mayhap, take some of the bonnie out of his face.”

      Tormand smiled briefly, but the seriousness of the situation severely dampened his usual ready sense of humor. It was good that Simon had so quickly accepted his innocence, if only because it revealed that his friend had not fully believed in his guilt despite his rage. It was not good that Simon had not found any clue save what was left for him to find. That meant they had no trail to follow to find the murderer. It left Clara’s killer free to kill again. If Tormand was right in thinking he was the real target, the killer would not be gaining what he sought this time. It was very possible that the man would kill again and could well continue to do so until Tormand was hanged.

      Pouring himself some more ale, Tormand seriously considered getting blind drunk. It was a temptation he had to ignore and swore to himself that this would be his last drink for quite a while. He needed his wits to remain sharp, for it was a dangerous time. Someone out there wanted him disgraced and dead. The memory of Clara’s butchered body was more than enough to remind him of what lengths his enemy was willing to go to achieve that end. Tormand knew he did not deserve the guilt he felt, but it did not lessen it by much. In fact, if he and Simon did not stop this killer, Tormand suspected he could quickly reach the point where he would be willing to take the blame just to make the killing stop.

      “I dinnae think Clara will be the only one,” Simon said.

      Wincing at that echo of his own thoughts, Tormand nodded. “Nay, I fear not. If this was all to bring me to the scaffold then the failure of it to do so will make him try again. I will not be caught off guard as I was this time, however.”

      “I think it would be verra wise if ye went nowhere alone.”

      “That could be a problem.”

      “Why?”

      “Weel, there are some places and times where a companion could prove awkward.”

      Tormand did not need the looks his friends were giving him to know he was being an idiot. It was only good sense, good defense, not to be caught out alone again. He could not allow his enemy to catch him again. Next time he might not be so lucky as to wake up and slip away before someone caught him lying next to a dead woman.

      He inwardly winced. That sounded callous, a selfish concern only for his own safety. Unfortunately, he had to be that cold despite his possible culpability in the death of Clara and any other woman who may yet follow her to her grave. If he ended up blamed for Clara’s murder or any that may follow, the real killer would slip away unpunished. Tormand was determined to make the man pay for what had been done to Clara and, he prayed, before the beast could do that to any other woman.

      There was also a deep need within him to know why. Tormand knew a lot of that need was because of the guilt he could not shake. He might be able to ease some of it if he learned why this man hated him so much. And, Tormand thought, possibly hated the women he had bedded. Clara’s beauty had been utterly destroyed; even her lovely hair hacked off. There had been anger and hatred behind that attack, yet that made no sense. Sad to say, he could not think of any man, lover or husband, who had revealed any feelings for Clara that were so deep they would cause such an insane rage.

      “Scowling like a stern father willnae change my mind,” said Simon. “Ye are nay a fool, Tormand. Ye ken verra weel the need to ne’er be alone until this madmon is caught and hanged.”

      Yanked free of his thoughts by Simon’s words, Tormand sighed. “Aye, I see the wisdom of it, but that doesnae mean I must like it.”

      “Celibacy willnae kill ye, but this enemy of yours will.”

      “Celibacy?” Tormand had no intention of admitting that he had been celibate for several months, if only because he did not wish to study the reasons why too closely. “Jesu, I think I might prefer hanging.”

      “Idiot.”

      “Mayhap, but the need for a guard wasnae really why I was scowling. I suddenly thought that, weel, the way Clara was butchered seemed to reveal a fury, a hatred, and I could think of no one who felt so strongly СКАЧАТЬ