Page 57 of A Temptress in Tartan

“I asked you,” the Lord Advocate boomed in his silence, “does she tell us the truth?”

Tearing his gaze from Elizabeth’s, he said, “Aye. I cursed the Ruthvens for murdering my parents and leaving me an orphan, but I do not claim that my words held any sort of power over Lady Ruthven’s death.”

The Lord Advocate addressed Elizabeth once more. “Was your mother ill prior to that night?”

“She complained of a headache.”

He turned his attention to Donald Ruthven. “Did anyone examine the body before her burial?”

“Nay,” her father replied, “because we all knew it was Lachlan Douglas who killed her.”

The Lord Advocate’s brows furrowed. “Why did you not pursue charges against this man at that time? And if you suspected foul play, why did you allow your daughter to marry him?”

Donald Ruthven’s shoulders stiffened. “Her marriage ’twas a business transaction between the king and queen and myself at first. But after the marriage, and when I saw the true nature of the man she had wed, I was determined to do anything to see her returned safely to her clan.”

The Lord Advocate shifted to Elizabeth in what was becoming a macabre back and forth of her father’s word versus her own. “Is that your wish as well—to return to the familiarity and safety of your clan? Because, as of last night, you willingly consummated your marriage, creating a bond no one but God can tear asunder.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed red as someone in the crowded chamber released a laugh that was quickly choked. She lifted her chin and replied, “He is my husband, and what passes between a husband and wife is perfectly natural and normal.”

Her father’s face turned red for an entirely different reason. “You gave yourself to the man who murdered your mother?”

Elizabeth looked straight ahead, almost as if she refused to look at her father. “I do not believe he murdered my mother. It is my belief that she simply died. And while her death broke my heart, I cannot think that a seven-year-old boy in pain over the death of his own parents—whom my own family readily admits to killing—could take my mother’s life with so little effort.” She straightened and allowed her gaze to travel over each member of the panel. “I do not believe in curses. I will never give evil that kind of power over my rational mind.”

Hugh Godfrey looked like he personally wanted to throttle her, but he remained silent.

“Thank you for your testimony, Elizabeth.” The Lord Advocate motioned for her to return to her place as he turned back to the panel and the judges bent their heads together, no doubt discussing how to proceed.

Hugh Godfrey’s gaze caught Lachlan’s. It was filled with grim amusement before he turned back to the others. But that brief look told Lachlan everything he needed to know. He had been a free man for only a moment, and now he would die for something he had done as a child. Ruthven and Hugh Godfrey would see to that.

King James left his position at the tribunal table and moved toward one of the guards. He spoke in a low voice to the man, and when he had finished, the guard left the chamber and the king returned to his seat.

It was several moments later before the Lord Advocate stood and faced the room. “Lord Douglas, there is much to consider here, and the tribunal finds we need further testing to determine the truth.”

At the mention of more ‘testing’ Lachlan felt his blood freeze in his veins. Did they truly mean testing or was there more torture in his future? He wasn’t certain how much more he could tolerate of John Swinton’s special brand of justice. If he got the chance, the man would press him beyond the point of his endurance, and as so many others before him, he would say whatever the man wanted to hear just to make the torture stop.

*

Elizabeth shut her eyes against the image of her husband being tortured once more. And if he was, this time it would be because of her testimony. She would send him to the hangman’s noose and eventually the flames, just as had happened to the two unfortunate women at the market cross a few days before.

The shame of what she had done filled her in equal proportion to the hatred that grew for her father. He had lied to her for the whole of her life . . . and now this . . . He would take away the one person who had been honest with her from the start.

Lachlan was not her enemy; he was the man whom she loved.

A stir in the chamber brought Elizabeth out of her worrisome thoughts as the guard the king had sent out of the chamber returned with a strange-looking gadget in his hands. The king accepted what the guard offered as he stood and addressed the chamber. “I have read about this divination device in one of the books of Occult Philosophy written by Cornelius Agrippa and have always wanted to try it.”

At the words, some of the color returned to Lachlan’s face. Was this the test the tribunal had discussed among themselves? And would they issue it in the tribunal chamber and not at the hands of John Swinton? A seed of hope took root inside Elizabeth.

The king placed what looked like a pair of shears and a sieve upon the table before him. “The Greeks used a technique called coscinomancy to determine a guilty party in a criminal offense. And since we cannot decide among ourselves whether Lachlan Douglas summoned spirits on the night of Janet Ruthven’s death or not, or if he is indeed guilty of murder or if Janet’s death was an unfortunate accident, we will let the coscinomancy decide.”

The king motioned for both Lachlan and Donald Ruthven to take up a position in front of all those gathered in the tribunal chamber. Elizabeth drew a suffocated breath as the chamber filled with tension so thick it seemed to weigh her down. This contraption, whatever it was, would decide Lachlan’s fate?

“Why am I a part of this trial now? I have done nothing but try to bring forth the truth!” Donald Ruthven’s voice rose in surprise. “I refuse to be a part of this test of yours.”

The king’s eyes narrowed in anger. “If you’ve told us the truth, then you have nothing to fear. Is there something you wish to tell this tribunal? Some point you wish to elaborate upon?”

Her father pointed to Lachlan. “This man has done unspeakable things, and yet now you wish to punish me? This is ridiculous.” He turned and moved toward the door, but the guards stopped him and hauled him back to the front of the chamber to stand beside Lachlan.

Her father’s face was filled with menace. “Against my will I will participate, but soon you will all know the truth,” he hissed. “The bastard is guilty of murder! This man destroyed my life, and my daughter’s life after taking Janet away from us.”