Page 42 of Warrior’s Lady

"I'll give me own introductions." The hulking man swatted the footman aside and surged into the chamber. The man was dressed in leather. Strapped to his body were several lethal blades.

And the bishop knew just who the man was. "That will be all," the bishop said to his chamberlain, striding to the doorway and pulling the portal shut. This discussion needed no audience.

Once the chamber was secure, the bishop turned back to the assassin. He had recently learned from his sources in Glasgow that Lord Lockhart had hired him to wipe the Ruthvens from the land. "What do you want? Are Lockhart and the woman dead yet? Did you kill them this morning then?" the bishop asked, moving back behind his desk. While he did not fear the man, somehow placing the desk between them gave him peace of mind that the openness of the room did not.

The man growled as he gripped the far edge of the mahogany wood with clenched hands. "Nay," he cursed, revealing a brown, rotten-toothed grin.

The bishop frowned. "Don't tell me you missed."

The man's gaze darkened. "I was interrupted."

"By whom?"

"The Ruthven girl saved 'em both."

"The girl saved them?"

The man rocked the desk with his hands. "She's a bruisin' rider and took me by surprise. 'Twas more than that though. All the while I was battlin' Lockhart, he kept beggin' me tae stop tryin' to kill her. He'd changed his mind, he said."

"That matters not."

The big man straightened. "How can I be sure to receive an intercession from the Lord above if the man no longer wants her dead? The sin of her death wouldna be on Lockhart's head, but mine."

"You stupid man," the bishop slapped his hand upon the desk, the sound echoing throughout the chamber. "An intercession is just that. It allows me to intercede for you in all manner of sins and gain for you a place in the afterlife that you might not achieve on your own."

"Lockhart changed his mind."

The bishop could almost taste the man's fear; and for an instant it brought him a smug sense of satisfaction. He was the master to all his lost sheep. "The world would be better off without her. No one in this life cares for her."

"I dinna know," the assassin said. "The way he fought tae protect her would prove otherwise."

The man's doubt suddenly filled the bishop with fury. He threw back the lid of the golden box on the corner of his desk. "How much will it take?" He ran his fingers through the silver and gold coins inside. The clink of the coins wiped the doubt from the assassin's face. That was better. Let the man remember who was in charge here.

"He paid me twenty gold pieces."

"Then I'll pay you forty."

The man nodded eagerly. "That'll do."

A smile of satisfaction came to the bishop's lips. His sheep were always so attracted to the sound and feel of gold. Gold could wring anything he needed from his flock. "Now, get back out there and do what you were hired to do."

With an eager smile, the man left the room.

Such enthusiasm. The bishop turned a cold gaze on the door. Too bad that once he'd wrung all he needed from the man, he would have to die. The trail of death would never lead back to the bishop's own doorway.

Never.

"I don't want to learn to sew today. I want to go outside and ride the horses." Violet's voice drifted out into the hallway outside the castle's solar.

"After you learn to sew," Rhiannon said, her tone patient.

Camden edged closer to the door, listening. He'd tried to find something to occupy his mind, yet all he could think about was Rhiannon. Before he'd known where he was headed, he found himself at the door of the solar. The anticipation of touching her once again sent a thrill to his core.

"All great ladies need to learn to use a needle, Violet. Without clothes to wear or blankets to keep warm with, or even tapestries to inspire, where would your people be?" Rhiannon's voice cut into his thoughts, pulling him back to the moment.

Camden peered inside the room. Rhiannon sat on a bench near the hearth. Violet sat at her feet. An embroidery frame with several untidy stitches lay in Violet's lap. She tossed her needle aside.

"I am no great lady. So why should I?" Violet pouted.