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Using the woman’s distraction, Rogene stomped on her foot and grabbed her wrist to take the dagger, but Euphemia came to her senses. She snatched her wrist out of Rogene’s grasp—damn it, the woman was strong!—and shoved the blade into Rogene’s chest. Red-hot pain seared through her in a flash as the edge of the knife cut her dress and her flesh, but it didn’t go deep between the ribs.

She gasped, watching the edges of the tear in her pale-blue woolen dress become saturated with blood around a dark gash in her chest just under the collarbone.

“Move,” Euphemia said. “Ye will be punished. Thieves and spies are whipped.”

She pressed the edge of the dagger into Rogene’s throat. A tremor rushed through Rogene. Her heart raced as she walked, moving her icy cold feet. The cut burned and ached.

And now—was Rogene really about to get whipped?

They came out onto the landing, Euphemia’s dagger pressed against Rogene’s lower back, right where her kidney was. Step after step, she descended to her doom.

Chapter 14

“Gift for your wife, my lord?” the Galician merchant said to Angus in a thick accent. The dark-haired man was short and stout with bronzed, weathered skin. He gestured with a muscular arm around the goods displayed on the booths.

“I dinna have a wife,” Angus said, looking over the rolls of white and red silk, casks of expensive wine, small bottles of perfume and rose water.

But he needed a gift for Euphemia. She surely had her wedding dress with her already, but he wanted to do something nice for her and make sure she felt special.

Around him, people were talking excitedly, touching the goods, smelling the cakes of soap, brushing the silk that was so rare here in Scotland. Catrìona picked up a small Bible with a gold-and-silver icon on the leather cover and was leafing through it. Angus wondered why she was doing this to herself if she couldn’t read.

“He has a bride, though,” Iòna said as he smelled a very yellow fruit that the merchant had called a lemon. Iòna was Angus’s friend and the warrior he had fought side by side with ever since his first battle.

“Ah,” said the merchant. “This?”

He retrieved a pearl necklace. The pearls were perfect: white and round, they were worth a fortune and were so bonnie, he could imagine only one woman wearing them.

Lady Rogene.

Angus’s neck muscles stiffened. Pearls were so rare and so expensive that, undoubtedly, he couldn’t afford the necklace.

“How about something simpler?” he said.

The merchant hid the necklace, disappointment masked under a polite smile on his face. He produced a golden cross on a golden chain. The cross was covered with thin, twisted golden patterns and had a small, round ruby in the middle.

Angus nodded. “Aye. This will do as a wedding gift. And some silk.”

“Lord, Lady Euphemia will be pleased,” said Iòna, rubbing his short, blond beard.

“Thank ye,” Angus said and turned to the merchant. “Will ye accept my finest uisge-beatha as part of the payment?”

The merchant’s mouth curved, and he nodded.

“Would ye bring three casks, Iòna?” Angus asked.

“Yes, Lord,” Iòna said and turned to the castle.

When the warrior returned with the uisge and the trade was done, Angus felt like he’d just lost half of his fortune. He tucked the white roll of silk under his arm and the necklace in his pouch. He doubted she deserved his gifts. But still. If she was anything like his father, she must be starved from the lack of attention, and that would only make her more dangerous.

The atmosphere was cheerful. Men and women bought plenty of goods—small and large—and looked forward to surprising their loved ones or trying an exotic new food.

Catrìona stood by his side eyeing the crowd. Angus reached into his pocket and retrieved a small wrapped in oiled canvas parcel.

“For ye,” he said and held it out to her.

“For me?” She beamed and took the gift.

He loved it when his sister became so carefree. Her smile could light up the whole room. Unfortunately, he didn’t see it so often.