The Bard

by Greyson, Maeve

  “But why?” Sutherland looked back at the body, wishing the newly departed ghost would tarry with them long enough to share all the dead man’s secrets. “Why would he kill himself?”

  “Who’s to say?” Greyloch shrugged again, then wrinkled his nose as something plopped in the puddle spreading on the ground beneath the hanged man. He waved Sutherland and Magnus forward. “Come. We have done all we can here. God willing, Garthin can tell us more.”

  “I couldha sworn someone said he and his mother were leaving today,” Magnus said as they crossed the courtyard toward the keep. He gave Sutherland an apologetic glance. “I wouldha told ye, but I thought it would make a pleasant surprise.”

  “’Tis just as well ye didna tell him. Lady Culane has taken to her bed with some sort of illness. Her maid reports traveling would be impossible for the woman.” Greyloch rolled his eyes. “I’m sure she wishes to stay for the festivities even though neither she nor her son were invited.”

  “Ye didna invite the lady favored by the queen herself?” Sutherland asked. “I thought ye were taking extra care where that one was concerned due to her political ties.”

  “Aye, well, both her and her political ties can kiss my hairy arse. I weary of her and her tiresome games.” He walked faster after casting a guilty glance in Sutherland’s direction. “Before ye arrived, I had entertained the notion of a match between Sorcha and Garthin to shut my advisors’ yammering maws. As long as Sorcha agreed to it, mind ye. Hence, my patience with guests staying in my keep entirely too long.” A relieved smile displaced his guilty look. “But then ye arrived, and fate stepped in to set things a’right.”

  Sly, old warrior. No man entered a battle without a second plan in case the first failed.

  Sorcha met them just inside the door, looking more than a little perturbed. As she pecked a kiss to his cheek, she whispered, “Dinna be thinking that just because I did as ye bade me this time, that ordering me about is acceptable, ye ken?”

  “There was not a need in yer witnessing such a disturbing thing, m’love.” He curled an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “And our enemy is still unclear. Pearsley was, in fact, alive when Garthin left him.”

  “I shall leave the two of ye to yerselves,” Chieftain Greyloch said. “The solicitor needs to be apprised of Pearsley’s passing so he can see to the arrangements for the widow and any children the man might ha’ sired.” He frowned at Sorcha. “Did the man have children?”

  “Nay, Da, and I dinna ken if his wife is still in the village or not. Last I was there, I’d heard she’d had her fill of his loose-footed ways.” She turned and gave Sutherland a pointed look that made his arse twitch. “The man didna have the sense the Almighty gave a goose. He didna cherish all he had at his own hearth.”

  Magnus cleared his throat. “Back to the skirting wall with me to send Merlin with a message. Tor Ruadh should know of this before they arrive.”

  “How can such a wee falcon carry the news of all that happened today?” Sorcha frowned at the small bird of prey still on Magnus’s shoulder.

  “They’ve worked out a code,” Sutherland supplied. “Colors and types of ribbons all have meaning. Alexander will get the gist of the message, and we shall fill him in on the details when he and Catriona arrive in a sennight.”

  “Exactly,” Magnus agreed. He made a quick bow, then left them.

  “I would talk with Garthin again.” Sutherland scanned the hall, surprised when the only others in the room were a few servants. “Those three left ye here waiting by yerself?”

  “Garthin said he needed to see to his mother. Heckie had some sort of chores calling him back to the stable, and Jenny suddenly remembered a letter in need of writing.” She straightened her shoulders and stood taller. “I am not afraid of waiting alone.” She gave him a look as if he had lost his mind. “This is still my home. I am safe here.”

  “Well, I dinna appear to be, and I dinna think ye are any too safe here either.” He took her hand, placed it in the crook of his arm, and gently pulled her to walk along beside him. “That is why I insist we leave for Tor Ruadh directly after the celebration. Return with Alexander and Catriona. We’ll be settled in our new home and safe before the month is out.”

  She refused to look at him. The set of her jaw and her tone betrayed her true feelings about his proposal. He could clearly tell she didn’t like the idea at all. She’d been none too happy with it when they had discussed it before, but she hadn’t outright refused. Of course, then it had merely been moving to Tor Ruadh at some point, more than likely several weeks into the future after Sorcha felt certain all loose ends had been settled.

  He patted her hand. “Aye, mo chridhe. We shall move there immediately and start our family. Our children will have lots of cousins to play with at Tor Ruadh.” With another pat of her hand, he tried to ignore the misery that was as clear as the dried mud smudged on her face. “Yer father is still hearty and hale. He has no need of us here right now.” He kissed her cheek. “We’ll move back here when he can no longer lead the clan, ye ken? He doesna need us underfoot.”

  “Stop saying that.” She slid her arm free of his and hugged herself, scowling down at the floor as she walked faster. “We are needed here.” She came to a halt, then turned and glared at the stairwell leading to the visitors’ quarters. “We are needed here until that woman is gone from Greyloch land—not before.”

  “Yer father is not a fool, mo ghràdh. He willna succumb to her wiles.” Sutherland couldn’t believe Sorcha thought her father so weak and foolish. “The man canna stand her. Told me so himself that he intends to see her gone as soon as she’s able to travel.”

  “The woman has taken to her bed in the hopes of making it easier to lure my father into it!” Sorcha backed a step away, putting more distance between them. “I know he isna a fool, but he is a mere man.” She cooled her tone as well as her look. “The lot of ye dinna always think with yer heads. Ye let yer manparts make yer decisions.”

  “And what of the attempts on yer husband’s life?” He had to admit that the fact she showed so little concern about any more unseen traps he might meet pricked him like a patch of nettles. “Do ye care so little for my well being, m’love? I canna believe ye would harden yer heart after taking such fine care of me after the one mishap managed to down me for a while.” His tension increased as he awaited her response. While he wasn’t jealous about the way she loved her father or felt the need to protect him, by damned, she should at least feel a little of that same concern for her own husband.

  “Ye know I care that ye’re safe,” she defended quietly, staring down at the floor. She shifted with a half-hearted shrug. “But with Mama gone, Da has no one to worry after him but me.” With another twitch of her shoulder, she looked up and met his gaze. “I want both of ye safe, and I fear if we leave here without finding the monster setting loose these accidents—I fear they’ll do away with Da once we’re gone.”

  “Has he ever been threatened inside his own keep before?” Sutherland understood her fears and felt a little foolish for allowing petty jealousy to come between them. Of course, she loved and feared for her father. A man would be a blind fool not to see the closeness the two shared. Sorcha was an only child, reared by devoted parents who cherished her. “Did any of the strange accidents start happening before my arrival?”

  Sorcha shook her head. “Not a one.” She took hold of his forearm with both hands and held tight. “The ill-luck started after we announced our betrothal. In fact…” Her scowl tightened. “The first was the blow to yer head. During the fire. Right after we said our vows.”

  “And so far…” Sutherland thought back over each and every incident. “I have always been the target.”

  “But ye werena targeted before I returned from the village, were ye? Ye were here several days with no mishaps at all, aye?”

  “Aye,” he agreed. “Nothing started until after we wed.”

  “Then everything still points to Garthin.” Sorcha
shook her head. “He is the only rejected suitor still here.”

  “It has to be him.” Sutherland licked his thumb and wiped the dried mud from her cheek. “But we need proof,” he said quietly. “My conscience rests easier when I kill men proven of their guilt rather than ones who might be the slightest bit innocent.”

  Chapter Ten

  She had both looked forward to and dreaded this day. The meeting of Sutherland’s kin. Well, at least two of his brothers, along with their wives. One of his brothers lived on some faraway island with his wife and children because of his occupation as a smuggler and a few poorly chosen alliances. Sorcha very much doubted she would meet that branch of the MacCoinnich clan any time soon.

  “Sorcie!”

  “What now?” Her sharp tone made Jenny jump back a step.

  Guilt for snapping at her made her apologize. “Forgive me, Jenny. What did ye ask?” she repeated in a kinder tone. “I didna catch what ye said.”

  “Ye didna catch what I said because ye were too busy wrestling with yer worry demons.” Jenny nudged her as they rounded the great hall for the third time, checking the preparations they had already checked twice before. “All will be fine, Sorcie. Mrs. Breckenridge is fiercer than any war chief and will have the head of anyone who dares to set yer feast awry. Just look at the floors. The dogs have never had such clean flagstones on which to eat their scraps. Ye know ye can count on yer clan to make ye proud.”

  “I know, Jenny.” Sorcha wished she could explain it to the girl. She wasn’t worried about a poor showing by the clan. She was worried about making a poor impression herself. These were her husband’s people coming today. And if Sutherland persisted with his plan of making Tor Ruadh their home immediately, life would be a great deal more pleasant if she got on well with his kin. “I just want things to go well. For Sutherland’s sake.” And my own, she silently added.

  “Since when have ye worried about folk liking ye?” Jenny’s perception was a great deal sharper than Sorcha gave her credit. “Remember what Mama always told us? ‘Be yer best. Give yer best. And let kindness ever be yer guide. Everything else will follow as it should.’” Jenny winked and nudged her again. “And if it doesna ‘follow as it should,’ to hell with the lot of them!”

  Jenny’s slight twisting of Mama’s sage advice lessened Sorcha’s tension considerably. “I dinna recall Mama ever adding that last bit.”

  “It was implied,” Jenny said, then nodded toward the entrance to the hall. “Our guests must be approaching the gates. Yer husband appears to be looking for ye.”

  Jenny was right. Sutherland looked as excited as a lad who was about to receive his first horse ride. “Stay close, Jenny. Aye?” She grabbed hold of Jenny’s arm. A deep intake of breath failed miserably at settling her nerves.

  “Ye know I will.” Jenny pulled her onward. “On wi’ ye now. Best hurry.”

  Sutherland met them halfway and scooped Sorcha’s hands into his. With a tender touch of her cheek, he gave her a quick kiss and whispered, “Dinna fash yerself. I promise they’ll love ye. All will be well. I swear it.”

  She found the fact that he read her so easily mildly disturbing. He probably even thought her cowardly, but she would prove him wrong on that count for certain. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Come, husband. We best not keep our guests waiting.”

  As they stepped outside and joined her father on the wide top step, their visitors rode into the bailey. An easily recognizable resemblance ran strong through the MacCoinnich men, although Sutherland’s hair was a shade lighter than both his brothers’ black manes. All the men shared the same massive muscular build and carried themselves as warriors ready to battle at a moment’s notice.

  Sorcha tensed, locking her smile with clenched teeth that made her jaws ache. The ladies riding beside the men were breathtaking beauties. Sutherland’s brothers would surely think her plain compared to their lovely wives.

  “Welcome to Castle Greyloch,” her father called out. “’Tis my pleasure to welcome ye into my home and repay the generous hospitality I received at Tor Ruadh not so many years ago.”

  “It is our pleasure to be here, Chief Greyloch,” the man at the front acknowledged. His smile widened as he aimed it at Sutherland. “Especially under such happy circumstances.”

  Sutherland pulled her closer as all in the party dismounted and approached the steps. He extended his hand toward the man in the lead. “I give ye my eldest brother, Alexander, chief of Clan MacCoinnich.” His touch remained warm and reassuring at the small of her back as he politely inclined his head toward his brother. “Alexander, I know ye met Chieftain Greyloch before, but I dinna believe ye had the pleasure of meeting his daughter and now my wonderful wife, Sorcha.”

  “It is indeed my pleasure, m’lady,” Alexander paired a formal bow with a knowing grin. He ushered forward the flaming-haired beauty at his side. “My wife, Catriona, who, I assure ye, has been champing at the bit to meet the woman finally able to tame my wee brother.”

  “Alexander!” Catriona scolded. “Ye dinna talk that way on our first meeting. Give the lass a chance to get to know us first.” She took Sorcha’s hand and squeezed. “Pay him no mind, dear. I am but excited to add another sister and female to our ranks at the keep. Evens out the odds, ye ken?”

  “I understand.” Catriona seemed friendly enough and sincere, even though her loveliness was striking. “And it’s my pleasure to meet ye both. As my father said, welcome to Castle Greyloch.”

  “And this is Graham, Clan MacCoinnich’s war chief, and his wife, Lady Mercy,” Sutherland said as the second couple approached the steps.

  While Lady Catriona’s fine looks were crowned with fiery red hair, Lady Mercy’s tresses were as black and shining as a river of ebony. Her smooth skin rivaled the palest ivory, making Sorcha wish she hadn’t been cursed with such a generous sprinkling of freckles across her own nose. But there was a vacant look in the lovely woman’s eyes, and while she kept one hand on her husband’s arm, she carried an ornate cane in the other, lightly sweeping its tip along the ground beside her. Sorcha suddenly realized that Lady Mercy was blind.

  “It is our pleasure as well to be here,” Graham said after a courtly bow.

  “Indeed it is,” Lady Mercy echoed with a friendly smile, shocking Sorcha with her English accent. Sutherland’s brother had married a Sassenach?

  “Ian and Gretna send ye their congratulations,” Graham added. “And Alasdair, as well. He’s at the keep finalizing a few legal matters before he returns to Edinburgh.”

  Ian and Alasdair Cameron were Sutherland’s cousins, who were more like brothers. Alasdair was Clan MacCoinnich’s solicitor, who lived in Edinburgh with his family. Sorcha prided herself on keeping all the names and details of her husband’s kin straight. She waved Jenny forward from where she stood back in the shadows. “This is my foster sister, Jenny Pratt. She and I would be happy to show ye where ye can rest and refresh yerselves after yer long journey.”

  “That would be most welcome,” Lady Mercy said. As if some unspoken communication passed between her and her husband, Graham stepped away from her side, and Catriona stepped in his place. She looped her arm through Lady Mercy’s and advised soft and low, “Three steps up, lass, and then we’ll be on the level to the doorway. All looks to be well, and even after that.”

  Lady Mercy paused, turning her face toward Sorcha, although for the life of her, Sorcha couldn’t figure out how the woman could tell where she stood. “I hope I don’t cause you discomfort, Lady Sorcha. Please rest assured that I can see some shapes and shadows—especially when the light is good. I consider myself well blessed and happily count those blessings every day.”

  “I admire ye,” Sorcha hurried to reassure. “I’m not so sure I’d be as brave were I in the same situation.” She led them into the great room, dying to ask the lady if she had always been without her sight or if some sort of accident had befallen her. But she dared not do such. To do so would be rudeness itself. />
  “I lost my sight after a blow to the head,” Lady Mercy answered as if she had heard Sorcha’s thoughts. “It’s quite the story. I shall regale you with it some time.”

  Lady Catriona laughed. “Ye did it again, Mercy. Ye’ve shocked another one.” She gave Sorcha a kindly nod. “She canna read minds, but sometimes it appears that way. Her perceptions are just sharper than most since she canna see.”

  “Well, I, for one, am glad she told us,” Jenny said. “I was wondering that verra thing.”

  “It’s only natural to wonder,” Mercy said. “And please do call me Mercy. The both of you. Titles are not necessary amongst family.”

  “And I am Catriona to ye both, as well,” she said as they stepped into the suite prepared for the two couples. She looked around after leading Mercy to a chair in front of the hearth. “What lovely accommodations ye’ve prepared for us. We shall be more than comfortable here.” Her lighthearted laughter filled the room. “Especially since we left all the bairns at Tor Ruadh for poor Nanny and the maids to chase after.”

  Sorcha couldn’t help but ask, for Catriona and Mercy both had put her completely at ease. “How many children do the two of ye have?”

  “Alexander and I have two sets of twin boys. The eldest pair are eleven years, and the younger set just turned five.” Catriona’s smile broadened. “And then there’s my precious Maisie Leanna. She’s the baby at just two.”

  “My goodness.” The words escaped her before she had a chance to bite them back. “Do twins run on the MacCoinnich side?”

  Catriona laughed again. “Nay, lass. Dinna worry. The twins are my fault, not Alexander’s.”

  “And how many children do ye have, Mercy?” Jenny asked.

  “A fine son of ten and a slightly spoiled daughter of six.” She relaxed deeper into the cushions. “I miss them terribly, but since little Effie Marsala is somewhat of an early riser, it would be a lie if I said I wouldn’t enjoy sleeping a tad bit past dawn.”