“Not until ye’ve calmed yerself,” Alexander said, clapping a hand on Sutherland’s shoulder and squeezing. “I know ye want revenge, but snapping the neck of the wrong man will only endanger yer wife even more. Ye dinna want to leave the fool on the loose to kill another day.”
“We will be leaving here as soon as Sorcha’s healed enough to travel.” Sutherland gave Chieftain Greyloch a look that dared the man to argue.
But the chieftain quickly nodded his agreement. “Aye, I think that best. I want my daughter safe.” He frowned at the bedchamber door, staring at it with such a look of sorrow, Sutherland felt a twinge of remorse for his sternness with the man.
The door opened again. “She’s asking for ye.” Catriona waved him forward, then stopped him at the threshold. “Her throat’s fearsome raw from the smoke. Give her sips of the honey water to ease it while she speaks, aye? And dinna let her talk overly much. She needs rest.”
“Aye,” he whispered. He’d gladly stay at her side and tend her ’til the end of his days.
Mercy turned from the washbowl on the bedside table with a wet cloth in her hand. She held it out. “The cool cloth pressed to her throat and chest helps her breathing. The healer added herbs to the water that soothe her when she breathes them in.”
“Thank ye for yer help, Mercy.” And he meant it. Graham’s wife might be blind, but she always found a way to help in times of need. The lady was a wonder.
“And the honey water is just there. Call out when ye need more, and I’ll fetch it.” Catriona pointed at the small pitcher and cup beside the washbowl. “We’ll leave ye to it then. I know ye’ll care for her well.” She took Mercy by the hand, and both women slipped out of the room.
“Sutherland?”
“Aye, love. I’m here.” The weakness of her voice hurt him. It rasped like metal grating across a stone. His poor wife croaked like a dying frog. He poured a cup of the water laced with honey and sat on the edge of the bed. “Will ye try and take a few sips for me?” He slid his arm beneath her shoulders and eased her up before she could respond.
“Aye,” she whispered with a faint smile. “If ye promise to keep holding me, I’ll do whatever ye wish.”
“I’ll hold ye to that, m’love.” He pressed the cup to her lips, relieved when she managed several good swallows. Placing the drink back on the table, he propped himself against the headboard and rested her back to his chest.
Sorcha nestled down more comfortably and rested one of her bandaged hands atop his middle. “This is nice,” she whispered.
He clenched his teeth. The sight of her poor blistered hands, slathered with balms and wrapped in rags, enraged him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked without lifting her head. “Ye’re tense as a bowstring set to release an arrow.”
“I canna stand yer suffering.” A kiss to the top of her head brought him little solace. It failed to grant his wish that he could bear all this pain in her stead.
“I am alive and healing, and I’m with ye. That’s all that matters.” She flinched as she wheezed in a deeper breath. “And thank the Almighty that Jenny’s healing, too. Both of us are going to be just fine. Aderyn promised it would be so.”
“Aye. Thank the Almighty,” he repeated but couldn’t stop the blasphemous thought that if the Almighty had been looking out for any of them, this wouldn’t have happened at all. “As soon as ye’re strong enough, we’ll be leaving for Tor Ruadh. Alexander and Graham have assured me Lady Culane and her son will be gone by then, so ye willna have that worry weighing upon ye.” That was a lie. Alexander and Graham had promised no such thing. They had sworn to help him find the bastard responsible for the terrible deed, but that was all. He made a mental note to set Catriona and Mercy to the task of ridding the keep of the conniving woman. He felt sure they’d relish it and have more success than any man.
“I like Mercy and Catriona. They are just as nice as ye said they would be.”
He held her closer and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Ye will like Tor Ruadh, too. Yer Da’s been there. Has he told ye anything about it?”
“Nay,” she whispered. “But it doesna matter. Anywhere ye are, I will be happy.”
Sutherland’s chest tightened with more feelings than he could bear. “I thought I had lost ye,” he confessed so softly he doubted she heard him. “I have never been so afeared of anything in all my life.” He closed his eyes and nuzzled his face in the silkiness of her hair. “I love ye, a thasgaidh. Love ye more than I ever thought I could love anyone.”
“I love ye, too.” She gingerly patted her forearm atop his stomach. “Sleep now. When we wake, all will be better. Ye’ll see.”
He prayed she was right and loved her too much to argue. Rest would help her heal. There would be no rest for him, though, until he caught the one responsible for her pain and suffering. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the slow steady wheezing of every breath she took. Her breathing didn’t sound as labored as it had when he had gathered her up from the floor of the smoke-filled room. At the time, he had feared her surely doomed to die in his arms, but the old healer had been delighted in telling him he was wrong, and he was thankful for it.
The softest pecking on the door demanded his attention. With the utmost care, he eased out from under Sorcha without waking her. He watched her as he sidled across the room, then opened the door a crack and found himself nose to nose with Magnus.
Magnus didn’t speak, just motioned for him to follow.
After another glance back at Sorcha, he slipped out the door and softly closed it. “I dinna want to leave her alone verra long. What is it?”
“I will sit with her,” Catriona said as she aimed a pointed glance at the individuals waiting across the room. “Ye need to speak with those two and hear what they have to say. I think it’ll be of interest to ye.”
“Verra well.” Sutherland joined Magnus, Alexander, and Graham in the sitting area at the far end of the long room. In front of them stood Chieftain Greyloch, Mrs. Breckenridge, and a young maidservant Sutherland didn’t know. Both the housekeeper and the maid looked as though they were headed for the gallows. “What is so important that ye would draw me away from my wife’s bedside?”
“Tell him,” Greyloch said. “Dinna be afraid.”
Mrs. Breckenridge turned to the girl. “Go on. Tell Master MacCoinnich what ye told me. Ye’ve nothing to fear. The chief will see to it that ye’re kept safe. He’s already said that, and if Himself says a thing, then rest assured that it’s so. Ye’ve proven yer loyalty by stepping forward. Ye’re new to the keep to know how much such loyalty is valued. But ye’ll find out soon enough.”
Sutherland watched the girl, wishing Mrs. Breckenridge would shut her mouth so the maid could get on with it. The tiny lass looked terrified, quaking in her shoes.
“I saw a man toting bundles into the cellar. I didna think anything of it at the time. Just figured him to be going to the root cellar for Cook or Mrs. Breckenridge. Thought he looked a wee bit strange, though. Had the hood of his cloak pulled low over his eyes like he didna wish to be seen.” Eyes wide, she paused, wringing her hands in front of her. “A little later, after he went back out, ’twas soon thereafter that Abel come a running, yelling out about the fire.”
The hood of his cloak pulled low over his eyes. Just like the sod who had shoved the sludge from the roof off on his head. Sutherland nodded. “The man in the cloak, at any time, were ye able to see his face?”
“Oh, aye, that I did.” The more of her story that she shared, the braver the lass became. “Me bein’ as small as I am, all I had to do was look up and see him full in the face. Even with him hunched over, I saw his face. If he stood straight, he’d be tall as a tree.”
Tall as a tree? That let Garthin Napier off the hook. That man was average height, even by the standards of the smallish lass. “Would ye know the man if ye saw him again? Do ye ken who he was?”
Her mouth snapped shut, and her already rounded eyes wide
ned even more. She gave a quick, jerking nod.
“Tell him the name ye told me,” Mrs. Breckenridge prodded. “Dinna be afraid.”
The girl gave the housekeeper a worried look. “But his da,” she whispered. “And what about Mistress Jenny?”
“It’s the only way to get this sorted.” Mrs. Breckenridge nodded again. “Say it, girl.”
“It was Master Heckie I saw,” she said so softly that Sutherland took a step forward and leaned closer.
“Come again, lass?”
“Master Heckie,” she whispered as she stared at the floor. “War Chief MacIlroy’s son.”
He turned to Chieftain Greyloch. “Have ye spoken to him yet?” Heckie was supposed to be one of Sorcha’s closest friends, and Jenny watched over the man like a mother hen. Why in heaven’s name would the lad attempt to kill them both?
“I’m having him fetched now,” Greyloch assured.
“Get her out of here,” Sutherland ordered. If Heckie was the one who had set the fires, it was in the maid’s best interest to remain unknown. She was young, new, and wasn’t as known by everyone as the rest of the servants. It wouldn’t take much effort to make her disappear without a trace.
Greyloch pointed at an expanse of wall covered by tapestries. “Take her out the shaft, Mrs. Breckenridge. He’s probably headed this way, and we dinna wish ye to meet him—just in case he has no explanation for his whereabouts.”
“Aye, my chieftain.” Mrs. Breckenridge herded the girl forward, pulled aside one of the weaves hanging on the wall, and pushed on a narrow stone block close to the floor. A section of the wall swung inward, revealing a passage. “Grab a candle, girl,” she said, pointing at a table beside the hidden doorway.
The maidservant took hold of the entire lit candelabra and led the way. Once they had both disappeared inside, the wall returned to a solid expanse, and the tapestry fell back in place.
As soon as they had disappeared, Sutherland turned back to the chief. “Would he do such a thing? I thought he was supposed to be like a brother to her? The man seems so…simple.”
Chief Greyloch pondered his answer entirely too long for Sutherland’s liking. “I canna imagine the boy doing such a thing. Especially not to Sorcha and Jenny. But…”
“But what?” Sutherland prodded, noting with some satisfaction that Alexander, Magnus, and Graham had stepped forward for an answer, too.
“Heckie has always been a strange lad. Not exactly a dullard, but none too right in the head either.” The chief stroked his beard as he scowled down at the floor. “He doesna think like the rest of us do.” He blew out a heavy sigh. “If he did set the fires and smoke out the room, it could’ve been because of some wild reasoning only known to him.”
“The man almost killed yer daughter, and yet ye defend him?” Sutherland couldn’t believe his ears.
“We dinna know for certain of his guilt yet,” Alexander said. “Let’s see what the man has to say, aye?”
A hard pounding on the outer door announced the guards and Heckie’s arrival. Sutherland strode across the room and yanked it open, calling on every ounce of control he had ever possessed to not grab Heckie by the throat and throttle him. “Take him over there,” he ordered, pointing at his kin and the chieftain.
The two guards, with Heckie between them, half-dragged, half-led the frightened young man to a spot in front of the chieftain.
“Why did they bring me here?” Heckie shied to one side as though expecting a beating. “I didna do anything wrong. I swear it.”
“Do ye know anything about Lady Sorcha and Jenny’s accident?” Alexander asked.
Heckie shook his head, running the tail of his belt back and forth between his hands. “I was down there earlier, but I didna see nothin’ wrong. The door to the chief’s stores was shut but didna think nothing of it. Everybody knows Mrs. Breckenridge be the only one with the key and ’tis her who sees to the comings and goings of what’s inside.” He smiled and stood taller. “Sometimes, she lets me help her carry things.”
“What bundles did ye carry down there? Why were ye cloaked with yer hood up when the kitchens are hotter than hell’s sitting room?” Sutherland stormed forward, itching to grab the man’s scrawny throat. “Ye best speak the truth, or I’ll kill ye where ye stand.”
“Cook wanted some fresh cut sticks for smoking more fish. Green ones work the best. She ran out whilst cooking up food for the banquet. She wanted to make sure she had plenty for extra fish. They’re Sorcie’s favorite.” He didn’t back up, just looked at them all as if he didn’t understand why they were so upset.
“Ye know Sorcie nearly died. Ye know someone tried to kill her and Jenny, aye?” Sutherland watched the lad closely. He could spot a liar from across the Highlands.
“I know,” Heckie whispered. His shoulders sagged as he stepped forward with a sorrowful look. “I been in the chapel thanking the Almighty for saving her. I been asking for extra angels to watch over her and Jenny.”
Sutherland slid a perturbed look at Alexander, then Graham, then shifted it to Magnus. Each of the men gave him a single nod. They all were in silent agreement. Heckie didn’t have the sense to form, much less carry out such a wicked murder. “Why did ye wear yer cloak and hood? The weather was fair today. Why were ye trying to hide yer face?”
“I cut all Cook’s saplings and reeds from the river’s edge. Waded knee-deep to get to the best of them. Bugs and such already rising up out of that mud.” He made a face. “I dinna like bugs. ’Specially when they get in me face.
Chieftain Greyloch turned away and bowed his head. “This be a fool’s errand,” he muttered.
Sutherland flung a hand toward the door. “Get him out of here and let him go back to the chapel. Now.” Poor, simple Heckie was not the murderous bastard they sought. This man was as harmless as a child. He shook his head. “The maid was good to tell us what she saw, but I dinna believe Heckie is the one we want.” Suddenly, he felt extremely weary, as though he had aged a thousand years. “I’m going back to my wife. Dinna disturb us again unless it’s a legitimate claim, aye?” He didn’t wait for their answer, just prayed that Sorcha healed quickly. The sooner she was whole again, the sooner they would be shed of this place.
*
Sorcha watched the rippling waters of the River Spey. This time of year, the waves danced and frothed with the addition of melting snow and heavy spring rains. This was her favorite path. One she had walked many times. Who knew when she would have the chance to walk it again? “Ye promised we wouldna leave until that witch and her son were gone,” she said without pulling her gaze from the river’s edge.
“Aye, well…” Her husband’s words trailed off into the wind.
“Aye, well, what?” she prodded.
Sutherland halted them both and turned her to face him. “She’s still abed. Even old Aderyn said something’s amiss with her. We canna very well lash her to the back of a horse and send her off, now can we?”
“Then shove her in the back of a wagon.”
“Sorcha.”
“Dinna use that tone with me. Ye know that woman’s evil as they come.” She fiddled with the ties of his tunic, enjoying the fact he’d left both jacket and waistcoat behind with the warming weather. “Da might be safe from her wiles, but what if Garthin targets him next?”
“If it is Garthin, he’s been quite canny in his attacks so far. It made sense for him to target me, and might verra well have been his mother targeting ye. But I fail to see how it would benefit either of them to attack yer father.” With a gentle lifting of her chin, he forced her to meet his gaze. “The trunks are packed and loaded in the wagons. It’s time we said our goodbyes and set off. Yer father will be fine, love. He’s as fierce as they come.” He armed his argument with the softest of kisses. “Besides, once we’re settled, we’ve bairns to be making,” he whispered before treating her to a more heated kiss.
“Ye dinna fight fair, husband,” she said when he finally lifted his mouth from hers.
“What are ye doing?” she giggled, although she had a fair idea and loved the thought of it.
He grinned. “We might as well get an early start on the bairns, aye?” With promising nibbles, he nudged aside the kerchief tucked at her neckline and slid his hand under her skirts.
As his fingers set fire to the tender insides of her thigh, she found it exceedingly difficult to argue, but at least, she had to try. “What if we have already seeded a bairn?” she breathed into his ear as she arched into his touch.
Sutherland froze and raised up to stare down at her. “Have we?” he asked, his tone filled with awe.
She laughed, cupping his face between her hands. “I canna be certain yet. It’s far too early.”
He attempted a stern look. “Minx!” he scolded, then renewed his efforts.
“I couldna resist.” She pulled him into an urgent kiss, then tangled her fingers in his hair and lifted him away. “Now, love me, my husband,” she ordered as she wrapped a leg around him.
“As ye bid me, my love.” He shoved their clothes out of the way, then groaned as he drove deep inside her.
In the shade of the grove, the ground was cold and hard at her back, but Sorcha didn’t care. Not when the man she had wanted for well over a year joined his body with hers, and they became one. She still hadn’t figured out how each time could be better than the time before, but somehow, it was. She bit her lip to keep from screaming out her ecstasy and announcing to all her kith and kin that her husband had pleasured her well.
Sutherland had no such reservations, letting loose a roar that rattled the thicket as he emptied himself inside her. Rumbling out an entirely too loud, satisfied groan, he rolled to one side while keeping an arm around her shoulders.
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