Iliana was not sure whether she should be grateful at this news or not. On the one hand, her heart nearly soared at the knowledge that Duncan had not been unfaithful to her. On the other, it made convincing Allistair that Duncan would not come for her that much harder. Especially since she herself very much feared he might do just that. She had learned a great many things about her husband in the time they had been together. Not least of which was the fact that he took his duty to his people very seriously. He would indeed come for her. And when he did, they would both be dead, for he had no idea of his cousin’s treachery.

“Once Duncan is dead, I shall be clan chief.”

Iliana stiffened at those satisfied words. “You are forgetting Angus.”

“I forget nothing. Angus is old. Once he acknowledges me as his heir, ’twill be little enough trouble to see he has an accident.”

“What of Seonaid?”

A slow smile spread across his lips at the question. “Ah, sweet Seonaid. She will be my wife and rule beside me. She’s a good woman, my Seonaid. I’ve loved her all me life. Never met another woman like her. Strong. Fast. Cunning—”

“And she loves her brother,” Iliana pointed out dryly. “I am sure she will not be pleased to learn who his killer is.”

“She will never ken. No one will but ye and Duncan, and neither of ye shall be alive to tell. I will comfort her in her sorrow and arrange the wedding as quickly as possible.”

Iliana gave a disgusted snort that brought Allistair’s irritated eyes to her at once. “Have you forgotten Sherwell? It seems to me you have gotten things in rather a muddle. With Duncan dead, Seonaid shall be heir to Dunbar, and when she marries Sherwell, he will be laird here.”

“That wedding shall never take place,” Allistair snapped. “Greenweld will see to that.”

Iliana felt a chill go up her back at that news. “And what must you do to earn that favor from Greenweld?”

“What do you think?”

“My mother?” she asked faintly.

“Aye. Unfortunately, she’ll not live to see me acknowledged as heir, but so be it.”

“So be it?” Iliana echoed faintly. “Are you mad? Your plan cannot possibly work. Angus will not name his son’s killer his heir.”

“He will not ken—”

“So you keep saying,” she snapped impatiently. “Seonaid will not ken, Angus will not ken, and Duncan will not ken ’til ’tis too late. Yet if I, a stupid Sassenach female,” she threw the words back at him sarcastically, “if I can figure it out, they will also.”

When Allistair stilled at that, Iliana nodded with satisfaction. “You left many clues. All it needs is piecing together.”

“I left no clues,” he denied with a frown.

“Nay? What of the message?”

“What of it?”