A riveting story of betrayal and intrigue on the medieval Scottish Highlands.
Thou shall not bear false witness. But only a lie will save me!
GWENYTH PRAYED FOR DELIVERANCE, but God seemed very far away. She raised a trembling hand to her mouth and winced when her salty finger touched the split in her lip. Aye, God had finally deserted her for good. Last night, amid darkness and terror, someone had assaulted her. The windowless cell she’d been dragged to was pitch dark, but the man hadn’t needed any light to find and take what he came for.
False witness.
She lifted her gaze to the tall, clean-shaven man who stood on the other side of a table placed between them. Adam Mackintosh. How could it have been him? Even in her current state of confusion, she was certain her assailant wore a full beard, not the day-old stubble on Adam’s face. See how the sun had kissed his cheeks and chin with color. That was proof, wasn’t it?
And why would the gentle man who’d seen her safely to her pallet return later and accost her? She shoved the painful memories aside. Somehow, she must see this through.
Her gaze locked with Adam’s, and she marveled at his arrogant stance. Gone was the kindhearted man of yesternight. He seemed to dare her to go forward with this deceit. He could not know that the lie that would condemn him would deliver Gwenyth from further danger.
The priest, her judge, stared hard at her. “Gwenyth of Buchan, you must identify the man who wronged you.”
Another lie, this name she’d given. If she revealed her proper name, she might very well leave here in chains. This Leod who’d captured her thought her to be a servant, for that was the story she and Daron had concocted to aid their escape. Now their web of deceit threatened to ensnare yet another soul. Was Adam an enemy, or a possible ally?