Lachlan's Heart: Book Two of The MacCulloughs

by Suzan Tisdale

  Kieren tried to open her eyes, but the effort was too much. “Sister,” she whispered. Her voice was raspy and coarse. Oh, what Keevah would not give to have her friend whole and healthy again, to hear that sweet voice once again alive with laughter or song. To see those eyes twinkle with delight and mirth. To be young again, before the harsh realities of life had taken away their innocence.

  “Aye, sister, ’tis me.”

  “I waited for ye,” Kieren said. “I told them I would nae die until I saw ye once again.”

  “Wheest!” Keevah said. “Ye are nae goin’ to die. I simply will nae allow it.”

  Kieren tried to laugh, but it came out sounding sickly and hoarse. “Still the bossy one. Even after all these years.”

  A weak smile formed on Keevah’s lips. “Aye, and ye must listen to me. Ye will live. I will take ye and Brigid back to my home with me.” ’Twas a dream she’d given up on long ago, but one she would give her right eye to have a chance for again.

  She shook her head ever so slightly. “I should have listened to ye years ago,” Kieren said. Her breaths were growing shallow and ragged. “I fear I am nae long for this world, Keevah.”

  Keevah didn’t want to listen. But deep down she knew her friend was speaking naught but the truth.

  “Remember the promise we made to each other all those years ago?”

  Keevah knew exactly which promise her friend spoke of. If anything ever happened to Kieren, Keevah would take Brigid and raise her as her own. “Aye, I do,” she answered, choking back tears of anguish and guilt. If only I had been more persistent, had refused to take no for an answer…

  “Please, take Brigid for me. Dinnae let him have her.” Her voice, although weak, was filled with dread and fear. She took in another ragged breath as her skin grew darker. “Please, make this promise to me.”

  “Of course!” Keevah exclaimed in a whisper. “I promised ye long ago that I would.” She hadn’t seen Brigid since the day she was born. More painful memories assaulted her heart.

  She looked relieved and at peace. “Have ye seen her?”

  “Nae, not yet.”

  “She is such a beautiful little lass. My little lass.” Another ragged breath. The conversation was quite literally draining the life from her. “Our little lass.”

  “Aye, our little lass,” Keevah said as she held onto her hand, willing her not to give in, silently begging her to fight to live.

  “I can go in peace now, knowin’ our little lass will be safe with ye.”

  Nay! Please, please dinnae go.

  “Shed no tears for me, sister. I made my choices just as ye made yers.”

  How could she not weep for the loss? Kieren’s life wasted on a man who could never and would never love her as she deserved. “Love our little lass, Keevah. Love her as I did. Love her better than I did.”

  She swallowed hard before replying. “I will, Kieren. I promise to never let her forget ye.”

  Kieren took no more jagged breaths as her skin darkened to an ugly shade of purple before turning gray. ’Twas then, and only then, that Keevah let her tears fall.

  Lachlan arrived at the Tickled Pickle before dawn. He’d left Jamie and Fergus in charge of the keep. It was simply too dangerous a time to leave anyone else in charge.

  Murdoch, much to Lachlan’s surprise, insisted on coming with him. After their lengthy conversation regarding sending clanspeople away, Murdoch had privately sworn his fealty. It seems his own mother had been sent away a few years ago, due to ill health. As soon as they returned from Inverness, Murdoch was going to bring his mother home, and anyone else who wanted to come.

  Along with them were a dozen faithful warriors - a handful of McDunnahs and more MacCulloughs.

  Once Lachlan was finished with the business of getting rid of the brothel, they would immediately return and begin the process of bringing the rest of the Chisolms to heel. Or he’d die trying.

  While he doubted anyone was still awake at this hour, he wanted to get the business over with as soon as possible. Besides, if they lingered too long, lord only knew what trouble his men might find to occupy their time.

  He ordered his men to wait with the horses as he and Murdoch went to have his formal discussion with Euphemie.

  He pounded on the heavy wooden door and was surprised to have it opened almost immediately. Standing on the other side of the door was a large, ferocious looking man. Lachlan estimated him to be near to thirty years old. Long, dark hair was pulled back at his nape. A slight scar could be seen near his forehead. Dark, piercing eyes stared back at them.

  “I am Lachlan MacCullough,” he said. “I am here to see Euphemie.”

  “She is busy,” the man replied as he tried shutting the door.

  “In case word has nae reached ye yet, I am the new laird of the Chisolm clan.”

  He showed no emotions as he stepped aside and allowed the men entry. He led them through the heavy double doors and into a spacious room. “Wait here,” he said before disappearing into the darkness.

  By the time Euphemie appeared, the snow had melted from their boots and cloaks, leaving puddles on the floor under their feet. He heard Murdoch gasp when the woman all but floated into the room. Aye, she was a beautiful woman and not at all what he had been expecting.

  Auburn hair, bright green eyes, and an ample bosom. She wore a dark blue silk and brocade gown. Draped over her shoulders was a fur wrap he guessed was made out of ermine.

  Everything about the woman belied what he knew about prostitutes.

  “Laird,” she said, looking directly at Lachlan. “I am Euphemie. I had heard there was a bit of a dust up at the Chisolm keep. I take it ye are the new MacCullough laird?”

  “I am,” Lachlan said with a slight inclination of his head.

  “Congratulations then, to ye. But the hour is late. I fear all our ladies have retired for the night. Perhaps ye could come back later this night.”

  He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Murdoch nodded as if he were enchanted and started toward the door.

  “I am nae here to seek the comfort of yer ladies,” Lachlan told her.

  “Oh, I fear we do nae have any young men in residence. Ye would want to visit the Cock and Bull. It is a few blocks down the street.”

  Either she was intentionally trying to rile him or she was being sincere; he couldn’t be certain and neither did he care. “Madam, I am nae here for that either. I am here to discuss the terms of the agreement between the former Chisolm clan chiefs and ye.”

  “Could this nae wait until a more decent time of day?” she asked right before glancing at the staircase behind her.

  “I fear it cannae,” he said. “I want this business done as quickly as possible.”

  “Verra well,” she replied. As soon as she sat on the chaise, Lachlan and Murdoch took seats near the hearth.

  She smoothed out her skirts before giving her full attention to Lachlan. “Now, what is so important that it cannae wait?”

  Lachlan wasn’t certain where he should begin. “It has only recently been brought to my attention that the Chisolms own yer establishment.”

  “They dunnae own it entirely,” she replied. “Only a small percentage of it.”

  Walter hadn’t made that distinct clarification, but he supposed, in the end, it didn’t matter. “Either way, I would like to somehow stop bein’ an owner of any sort.”

  She studied him closely for a long moment. “Are ye thinkin’ of shutterin’ our doors?”

  “That thought had crossed my mind, aye.”

  He could see the fire of anger burning in her bright eyes. “Do ye have any idea what would happen to the women who work here?” She gave him no time to respond. “They’d be sent to work in the streets, laird. And the streets of Inverness are a dangerous place to be. Especially these past few months. They’d be forced to work in deplorable conditions. They would barely make enough money to eat let alone to keep from freezing to death. Nay, laird, I will nae allow ye to close us
down. I owe it to these women to keep them safe.”

  He waited until she took a breath before interjecting. “I said it had crossed my mind. I did nae say that was what I was goin’ to do.”

  Euphemie’s glare dimmed only slightly.

  “I am morally opposed to what ye and yer women are forced to do just to survive,” he began. “Were it up to me, none of ye would have to do what ye do.”

  She scoffed at his naïveté. “Ye mean, bring pleasure to men when they cannae find it anywhere else?”

  He felt his cheeks grow warm. “Aye. That.”

  “My mother was a prostitute,” she told him. “She was a favorite of Robert de brus.”

  “I am aware of that,” he replied. In his mind, it didn’t matter if it was a king or a farmer taking advantage of a woman. It was repugnant just the same.

  “My mother took great pride in what she did, laird. There is no shame in it.”

  He knew they would never agree on the matter. “I am sure she was. But we still need to solve the current predicament.”

  “And how do ye propose to do that laird?”

  “By giving the entire ownership to ye.”

  She could not have been more stunned. “And what do ye want in return?”

  “Nothin’,” Lachlan replied. “The entire buildin’, the business, it would all belong to ye.”

  From the way she was looking at him, he knew she didn’t entirely believe him. “I want nothin’ in return, madam. I want only to be done with this business.”

  She quirked a pretty brow. “Ye say this business as if ye have a mouthful of dung.”

  “I meant no insult, madam.”

  Still unconvinced of his sincerity, she maintained her icy glare.

  “Murdoch, please leave us.”

  Thankfully, he did not argue. Lachlan waited until the doors closed behind him before he returned his attention to matters at hand. “Truly, I meant no insult. I have reasons for wantin’ to end the previous relationship ye have had with prior lairds.”

  “I am listenin’.”

  He let out a heavy breath. “Ye see, I happen to be verra much in love with a woman who used to do what ye do. Years ago, she left that part of her life and has tried to start over. I want her to be my wife, but I fear she still worries overly much about what she used to do.”

  “Does it bother ye? What she used to do?”

  He smiled warmly, “Nay, it does nae bother me. I understood her reasons for doin’ it and would never hold it against her.”

  “But ye see, with that statement alone, it is apparent to me ye do.”

  Confused, he asked for clarification.

  “Laird, ye behave as though she needs yer understandin’. I imagine ye even forgave her, aye?”

  “Of course, I did.”

  She gave a slow shake of her head. “She does nae need yer forgiveness. No woman who has ever been forced to do what we do, or any woman who outright chose this way of life, needs a man’s forgiveness. Only acceptance. To forgive is to say she has done somethin’ wrong when in fact, she has done nothin’ wrong. She provided a service, that is all.”

  He couldn’t quite see it in those terms but was willing to try to see her point.

  “Would ye feel the need to forgive a woman for bein’ a seamstress? A laundress? A weaver or a scullery maid?”

  Now, he could see where she was going with her line of thinking.

  She caught the realization dawning in his eyes. “Then why would ye feel the need to forgive this woman ye claim to love?”

  For a long moment, he mulled it over and over. Mayhap she was right. Keevah had done nothing that hundreds, if not thousands of women had done in the past. Each for her own reasons. Still, he thought there had to be a better way to make a living.

  “For some of us, we have no choice but to do what we do. A few have reasons of their own. It might be the desire for independence. The need for excitement. Or they work in establishments such as mine, save up enough coin, to buy a business the rest of the world finds a bit more palatable or respectable.”

  Truly, he’d never thought of it that way. Never once had he ever paid a woman for her company. There was something that didn’t set well in his head or his heart about it. Joining should involve two willing people. Paying for the act made it seem … less.

  “Accept her past, laird. But do nae offer her forgiveness. She does nae need it.”

  Mayhap that was what Keevah had been trying to tell him all those many weeks ago?

  For more than an hour, Keevah stayed next to her friend, never once letting go of her hand. She wept until she could weep no more. In between sobs, she made a hundred different promises and twice as many apologies.

  Guilt clung to her like a second skin. How could she not feel responsible? Had she stepped in and told Kieren not to marry Dermott to begin with, both their lives might have been set on entirely different paths. Had she not been so busy with her own life to talk her friend out of marrying him. Had she not been so busy grieving the loss of her family. Had she taken the time to pay attention. If she had just done one single thing differently, her dearest friend may still be alive. If she had spoken up. If she had been there …

  If, if, if… Her life now seemed to be made up of nothing but if’s. If her father hadn’t died … if her mother hadn’t died … if her brothers hadn’t died.

  Her mother used to tell her not to fret over ifs or buts. ’Twill do ye nae good to fret over what cannae be changed.

  Oh, how she wished Lachlan were here. What she would not give to have just a bit of his comfort, his kindness, and friendship. To feel those big strong arms of his wrapped around her. Oh, how she missed him.

  Wiping her tears on the sleeve of her dress, she stood and took a long look at her friend. “I am so sorry, Kiernan. I am so verra sorry.”

  She placed a kiss upon her forehead and quit the room. She was not going to leave the act of bathing Kiernan and preparing her for burial to anyone else. This was the last good thing she could do for her.

  Slowly, she closed the door behind her and went below stairs.

  Chapter Ten

  The slightest breath could have knocked her over.

  There, in the greeting room, sat Lachlan MacCullough and he was in a deep conversation with Euphemie.

  How did he know she was here? Had Aeschene sent word to him?

  As soon as she stepped out of the shadows of the hallway, he stood to his full height. His face bore the oddest of expressions, but she didn’t care to take the time to parse it out.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as she rushed into his arms. Thankfully, those arms she’d been dreaming of only moments ago, wrapped around her and held her tightly.

  “Wheest, lass, wheest,” he whispered against the top of her head.

  “She’s gone, Lachlan. She’s gone,” she cried into his chest. Clinging to him, she continued to cry.

  A moment passed before she felt Euphemie’s warm hands begin to rub her back. “Lass, I am so verra sorry.”

  Lachlan looked to Euphemie for guidance and answers, for he certainly had none of his own. He had no earthly idea as to why he’d find the woman he loved in a brothel in Inverness in the middle of the night. And he certainly didn’t know who ‘she’ was. He could only surmise she had been someone important to Keevah.

  Euphemie whispered answers to his unvoiced questions. “Kiernan. She was Keevah’s dearest friend since they were children.”

  That offered only a partial explanation as to why she was here, of all places. Now, he thought, was not necessarily the right time to ask that particular question.

  Admittedly, it felt good to have her in his arms. Even if she was sobbing uncontrollably. He closed his eyes and breathed her in. The faint smell of roses blended with wood smoke and winter.

  He decided then that the reasons she was here didn’t matter. He also decided he would never let her go.

  When she finally stopped crying, Euphemie guided them to the chaise. Lach
lan sat beside Keevah with an arm draped around her waist. He wasn’t quite ready to relinquish his hold just yet.

  “I will get ye some warm cider,” Euphemie said before quietly slipping from the room.

  Keevah dried her tears on the bit of linen Euphemie tucked into her hand before she left. “’Tis the God’s truth I never thought to see ye here, Lachlan. But, Lord above, I am glad ye are.”

  He chuckled softly. “I can say the same.”

  Puzzled, she sat up to look at him. “I thought Aeschene had sent word to ye.”

  He gave a slow shake of his head. “Lass, I had no idea ye were here.”

  More confusion filled her eyes. “Then why are ye here?”

  “That is a verra long story, lass. One I will gladly explain to ye someday. Now, tell me why ye are here.”

  She dabbed at the corners of her eyes and began to explain, as best she could. “Kiernan was my dearest friend, since we were weans, really. She was the closest thing to a sister I have ever had.” She swallowed the tears before going on. “Several years ago, she married a most vile, violent man named Dermott. I did nae realize just how violent he could be until … Had I known, I would have made her go with me, when I went to live with the MacCulloughs.”

  Above all things, Lachlan hated men who were cruel to women. Anger began to bubble deep in his gut.

  “I received a missive from Euphemie a few days ago. Kiernan had been brought here after Dermott—” she couldn’t quite get the words out. It hurt too much to say it aloud. “He killed her, Lachlan. He beat her so badly that she died. I made it just in time to say goodbye.”

  She fell against his shoulder, struggling with tears and guilt. “I should never have left her. I knew he could be mean. I knew, but I did nothin’.”

  Gently, he rubbed a hand up and down her back. “Lass, ye cannae blame yerself.”

  “But had I insisted, truly insisted that she go with me—”

  “It would have changed nothin’,” he told her. “Men like this Dermott ye speak of? He would have eventually found his way to her.”