Deirdre shook her head. “There’s nae time.” She briefly told Maggie about meeting Rhys and his brother, and how she had volunteered to go to Hightower with him and then to the English court to get the cross.
“God’s blood,” Maggie muttered. “Algien Bellecote has Grace’s cross, and Rhys’s brother is here?”
Deirdre nodded, surprised at the shocked look on her sister’s face. What secrets did that cross hold? Before Deirdre could form the question, Maggie said, “’Tis too dangerous for ye to go to the English court!”
Deirdre laughed bitterly. “’Tis nae any more dangerous than my staying here where the Guardians can send men to seize me at any moment. Mayhap if I retrieve this cross and show fealty—”
“The cross is nae of any import to the Guardians or the queen,” Maggie said. “In fact, they do nae know anything about it, nor must they ever.”
“What’s so important about this cross, then?” Deirdre asked.
Maggie bit her lip. “Let us start from the beginning, aye?”
“Aye,” Deirdre agreed, grateful Maggie seemed willing to forgive and talk to her.
“But first, tell me what ye knew of what Yearger was doing.”
“I did nae know anything,” Deirdre said. “He brought me a note from the queen on the day the king died, and he told me to have a lady-in-waiting carry the note to the king straightaway.”
“Why Shona, do ye think?”
Deirdre bit her lip. “He did nae specify Shona. I chose her,” she whispered, feeling awful about that, but if it had not been Shona, it would have been someone else. “I chose Shona because I, well, I liked her more than the other ladies-in-waiting. She never whispered about our family as far as I knew.”
Maggie grabbed Deirdre’s hand and squeezed. “Go on.”
“Later that night, Yearger woke me from sleep. He said the king was dead and that it was Shona’s fault, that she’d accidentally scared the king’s horse and they fell over the cliff. He dragged me from my bedchamber and said we must help Shona. So we went to the healing room because Yearger said Shona would likely have run there to her sister.”
“But you never saw Shona again, did ye?” Maggie asked.
“Nay. She disappeared. Well, she ran, she must have, knowing—Oh God…” Her free hand fluttered to her neck. “She must have been terrified after Yearger tried to kill her. Have ye seen her? Do ye know where she is? How is yer husband connected to the MacKinnishes? He calls Alastair and Dermot his uncles, but he looks to be the same age as they are.”
“There’s a lot that needs to be explained, but I can nae tell ye everything ye wish to know.”
Sadness filled her. “There was a time ye would have confided everything in me.”
A stricken look crossed Maggie’s face. “Aye, Sister, but the secrets are nae mine to tell this time. And…” Her words drifted off, and she shifted from foot to foot, a distinctively uncomfortable look crossing her face.
“Ye do nae truly trust me,” Deirdre whispered. She grasped Maggie’s other hand. “I vow I did nae know Yearger had joined forces with Bellecote and the king of England. It’s true that I did know he was working on a marriage for me to Algien.” She sucked in a breath that felt laden with remorse. “The marriage was supposed to go forward once ye were wed to the baron, and for that, for allowing ye to be coerced into wedding a man I knew ye did nae wish to, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being selfish. I’m sorry I longed to have our status restored, for people nae to whisper about us and look down upon us. I—” She swallowed, her throat tight with the tears clogging it. “I’m a horrible sister. I do nae blame ye for nae trusting me.”
Maggie surprised Deirdre by pulling her close for another fierce hug. “I believe ye, and I accept yer apology.”
A sob broke from Deirdre as she clung to her sister. “Ye will be the only one to believe me.”
Maggie pulled back, smiled lopsidedly at Deirdre, and then reached up and tucked an errant lock of Deirdre’s hair behind her ear, just as Deirdre always used to do to Maggie. “Rhys will come around.” She sucked in her lower lip. “Perhaps not his uncles or Grace, but Shona probably will. She’s a forward thinker.”
“What is a forward thinker?” Deirdre asked, frowning.
“She thinks outside the box,” Maggie said, and what looked to be a secretive smile came to her lips.
Deirdre shook her head. “Ye are nae making sense.”
“I’m nae surprised,” Maggie said. “Being married to a time—” Maggie stopped speaking, her cheeks coloring. “Being wed to a relative of the, uh, MacKinnishes will do that to ye.”
Deirdre narrowed her eyes at Maggie. “Ye were about to say something else,” she accused.
“I was, but as I said, this secret is nae mine to tell. Besides, I want to keep Rhys in good humor so he’ll forgive ye for almost wedding me to Bellecote.”
“I’m sure there are other ways ye can think of to keep yer husband’s humor favorable to ye,” Deirdre teased, glad for the lighthearted moment.
