by Elise Ramsay
Fiona knew, of course, that Catriona was referring to Kyle. In truth, she did not know how to soothe her. Everything the lassie said was right, and it would be cruel to give her false hopes. Yet, how could she not hold her and tell her everything would be alright?
“Ach, Catriona. Know this. I will always be here for you, for as long as we both live here. I shall not abandon you. We will stay secret friends. Your brother need never know.”
“Aye, because you know as well as I do that if he thinks we are friends, he will split us apart.”
Fiona still felt the prickling of fear at speaking out against her Chieftain, especially to his own kin, but she knew that nothing else would do. The child needed to hear it.
“Aye, I know. I know fine well what sort of a man your brother is.”
“And what my Da was too?”
“Ach, aye, I knew. There’s few who didn’t.”
“Except me!” Catriona began to weep in earnest.
“Lass, lass. Come now. You were a bairn. How’s a wee lassie supposed to guide herself through these things?”
“My brothers did!”
“No, Catriona, no they didn’t. They have not come out of this unaffected, especially Kyle. Neither boy has come as far as you have, and you just remember that!”
Catriona looked up at her, her tear stained face was red and blotchy.
“I don’t know what Evan will eventually be, but Kyle is damaged beyond repair. He will never be a normal man, he saw too much that a wee laddie should never, ever have seen,” Fiona said as she stroked her hair.
“So, you pity him?”
“I did once. But, nay, no longer. He has become too cruel, too much of a beast to ever be pitied again.”
Catriona looked up at her gratefully. Although it did not solve her problems, it healed her heart somewhat to know she truly had a friend and ally in Fiona Blair.
Some days later, Kyle strode into his mother’s bed chamber without warning. Fiona was amazed to see him there, for she had never known him to visit his Ma once in the time since auld Tormod Sinclair had been killed.
Fiona was so rarely in the company of her Chief that she could not speak. She simply bowed her head.
As Kyle approached his Ma’s bed, Fiona, with shaking hands, went back to her stitching. Kyle saw her fear, and let the wave of pleasure it produced wash over him.
“Well, Ma. How are you today?” He spoke loudly, startling Nairn awake. She looked confused, causing Kyle to laugh.
“Ach, Ma, do you not recognize your own son? Your first born.”
Nairn narrowed her eyes and peered at him, recognition making her body tense.
“Oh, aye. I know you.”
“Good. I’m glad you seem to have a few shreds of sense left!”
“Aye, there’s some things that never leave you.”
“Such as?” his tone was menacing. Fiona shifted awkwardly in her chair. Kyle fixed her with a stare.
“Leave us!” he demanded.
Fiona did not know what to do. She rose to her feet, dropping her sewing work onto the floor, but did not move away. She was suddenly terrified for the woman in the bed and felt it somehow her duty to stay. Yet, Kyle was her Chief, and she knew she must obey him.
“I said LEAVE US!” The depth of his bellow startled Fiona into action and she scurried from the room.
“You nasty, nasty wee laddie,” Nairn hissed at him.
“What did you say to me?”
“Ach, you heard me child. My child, my wee bairn, grown so twisted and cruel and broken, just like Tormod.”
“Don’t you speak of my Da that way.”
“It’s too late for that, son. I gave up years ago.”
“Gave up what?”
“Being afraid of my dirty pig of a husband. Being afraid of my own sons. What more can you do to me that hasn’t already been done. What more can you do that you haven’t watched your own Da do to me, you filthy wee coward!”
“Shut up, you witless auld woman.”
“Ach, aye, witless most of the time. But not all of the time. I see you. I know what you are.”
“And that is?” Kyle’s rage was boiling, but he still needed to know what this old crone thought she saw before her.
“You, my wee boy, are nothing. Arrogant, cruel, jealous and twisted... but nothing! You are nothing!”
Kyle grabbed at the plaid blanket from around her shoulders. He tugged so hard at it that he nearly pulled Nairn from the bed. Bunching the material, he drew it across her face and leaned hard upon it. Despite having given up on life so very long ago, Nairn’s natural survival instincts were so strong that finally, she fought him. However, he was too strong for her. In the end, all she could do was meet the eyes of her first born child as he smothered the very life out of her. Kyle could not tear his gaze away from hers, right up until the moment he felt her tired, auld body sag as it gave into death.
Chapter Eight
Catriona felt well rested. She had taken the afternoon away from her Ma’s chamber and had walked in the Castle grounds. The day was warm and she had sat and dozed against a tree on the edge of the woodland. Reflecting that her spirits had lifted somewhat since Fiona had held her and made a friend of her, Catriona decided to head back and give her new friend a wee break for a while.
Whilst she knew that her problems were still unsolvable, somehow, Fiona had managed to make her feel better. Catriona felt hope. She was no longer the wee unlovable lassie she had been all these years. Catriona had two friends and, whilst it was true that Gawain was somewhat unobtainable, she would never discount him. Gawain, after all, was the one person who had seen her at her worst and still forgave her. In reality, Fiona had done something similar, although she had not known Catriona as well as Gawain had. Still, Catriona decided to see some of the good in life. These last weeks had been just appalling, and she was too tired to dwell on it all. Catriona was going to take some time to appreciate the good before the bad inevitably returned.
It was in this elevated mood that Catriona made her way back to see her Ma. Entering the room quietly, she peered over to the bed to check if her Ma was sleeping or awake. Nairn appeared to be asleep, although she was leaned back in an ungainly fashion.
Catriona looked over to Fiona’s chair, surprised to see it empty. Well, Catriona was perfectly well able to straighten her Ma out herself.
At the side of the bed, Catriona began to reach for her Ma. She would just gently move her into a sleeping position more comfortable than the one she was currently in. She was surprised to see her Ma’s eyes were open, watching her. As Catriona began to smile at her, her stomach lurched. Something was wrong. Something was really, dreadfully wrong. Nairn’s head was tilted painfully backwards and off to the side, yet her eyes seemed to face front. Her unblinking eyes. With her heart thundering in her chest, Catriona tried hard to grasp the situation. She leant closer to her Ma and peered at her face. There were faint blue bruises around her nose and mouth, and her color was wrong. The unblinking eyes remained open, staring at a spot far above Catriona’s head. Catriona snapped back into an upright stance and, still staring down at the lifeless body of her Ma, clapped a hand hard over her own mouth to stifle the scream she knew was rising. Bile rose in her throat. Catriona had never seen a dead body in all her life. Even her father. Catriona wanted so badly to run, to cry out for help, and yet something deep and instinctive held her back. There was something very, very wrong here. Where was Fiona? Why was her Ma so twisted, with pale bruising around her mouth?
Catriona took a silent step backwards. She listened for any signs of movement outside in the corridor. Hearing none, she took her hand from her own mouth and took several deep, calming breaths. Catriona needed to look for something, but what? What was it that was wrong? In her heart, she knew that her Ma had not just died. She had not simply expired gently as nature should dictate. No, Nairn Sinclair had not gone gently. Forcing herself to return to the bed and look more closely, Catriona could see that he
r Ma’s hands still seemed to be gripping at one of the thick blankets. The knuckles were white, almost poking through the thin, pale skin of her ageing hands. Dragging her eyes back up to once more look upon her Ma’s face, Catriona finally found what she knew she had seen all along. There, in a screwed up bundle of fabric at the side of her Ma’s head, was another blanket. It was the plaid that Catriona had herself wrapped about her Ma’s shoulders before she had taken her leave earlier. It was doubled over and wrinkled in such a way that Catriona could not imagine her Ma doing.
Catriona’s heart began to thud once more as realization dawned. Her Ma had not just died. Nairn Sinclair had been brutally smothered with her own plaid blanket.
Catriona began to run, as quietly as she could manage, along the back corridors she had taken to using to stay out of sight. Where on earth was Fiona? Could Fiona have done this? Could she really have killed her Ma? Surely not, Fiona had cared for the woman for so long now that she would be beyond any frustration that could creep in when spending so much time in the company of one so often rambling in her own insanity. Yet, did she really know Fiona that well?
Cursing herself as an idiot, Catriona kept running. All she knew was that she needed to get out of there. Somebody had murdered her Ma, her poor and helpless Ma, and she could not be sure who would do such a thing.
There was nobody to tell. There was nobody to trust.
Mounting her horse right there in the stable, Catriona set off at an immediate gallop. Her nerves were so shredded, she thought nothing of who might see her leave. It hadn’t occurred to her that the noise would draw attention.
Kyle peered out of his chamber window and down across the Castle grounds. Catriona had set off like she was being chased by the Devil himself. Kyle’s smile was as broad as it could be. So, she’s found her then.
Chapter Nine
Catriona was some distance from the Castle before the tears had begun to fall. The ghastly sight of her Ma would not leave her mind. How she must have suffered. How Catriona had let her down, even at the end. Catriona’s world seemed as if it were being torn apart, piece by piece. When she tried to think rationally about who could have killed her Ma, she could only think of Kyle. Surely, it was him? Yet, Kyle had not visited Nairn for so long that Catriona couldn’t remember the last time. It was before her Da’s death? What about Evan? Could he have done it?
Somehow, Catriona doubted Evan’s involvement. Despite not seeming to have much regard for either herself or her Ma, he somehow didn’t appear to have such a deep vein of cruelty running through him. Still, she knew so little of Evan that Catriona could not discount him as a suspect.
Catriona heeled her horse harder and harder. Flying through the countryside, she was riding faster and more recklessly than she had ever done before. Having no idea where she was going or what she was going to do, Catriona wondered at her own behavior. Whomever had killed her Ma would undoubtedly get away with it. Killings often went unnoticed. Between Clans, killings, were so often left to be dealt with by vengeance or some other form of compensation. Nairn Sinclair would not even have that much notice in death. She would be proclaimed to have simply died and be buried, with few to mourn her and fewer still to care about the circumstances.
Suddenly, a rage so pure rose up from within her. Catriona knew who had done this dreadful thing. She just knew. Catriona slowed her horse and swore to God and herself that one day, whenever the opportunity arose, she would kill Kyle Sinclair in whatever way she could. As her speed slowed to a walking pace, her breaths came sharp and ragged. Catriona knew she must stop being a leaf floating in the wind of the plans of others, and must take control of her own life.
The very decision, although yet to be backed up with a solid plan, brought Catriona a certain sense of peace. Carrying on in the same direction, Catriona was trying to calm her mind enough to begin to make a plan when something caught her eye.
In the approaching woodlands, just on the edge, she could see something laying on the ground. Or, someone. Not knowing how much more she could take, Catriona aimed her horse in that direction. It was not until she was almost upon the scene that she saw a man standing over what she then knew to be the body of a woman.
As she jumped from her horse, the man began to turn the woman over, talking to her all the while.
“Can you hear me? Are you alright?” The man’s voice seemed so loud to Catriona.
The woman made no sound as the man rolled her onto her back. Her head lolled awkwardly, the same was that her Ma’s had done not one hour before and her dress was familiar.
A deep cold dread filled Catriona. This evil would pay. “She’s dead,” Catriona hardly recognized her own voice.
The man looked up at her.
“Catriona?” he sounded surprised. In that moment she recognized Darach Abernethy.
“Why are you here?” she demanded in a cool, crisp voice.
“I’ve been out hunting.”
Catriona could see he had a bow slung across his shoulders, but could see no sign of any kills. Perhaps he hadn’t been successful. Taking in the entire scene more thoroughly, Catriona shrieked. The woman’s bodice and skirts were covered in blood. The fabric of her clothing was ripped in parts, revealing the extent of the awful wounds she had suffered. This poor woman had been mutilated.
Darach’s hands and arms were covered with blood. He watched Catriona closely as her mouth gaped at the sight of him.
“Ach, for God’s sake! I am bloody from rolling the poor woman over. Surely you dinnae think I killed her?” His voice was full of angry bewilderment. Catriona simply stared, standing as still as a rock.
“Catriona!”
Shaking her head to snap herself out of her trance, Catriona looked again at the woman. No longer able to bear the sight of her torn and bleeding body, Catriona searched for her face. The air pushed out of her body as if she had been brutally punched in the stomach. The low, guttural noise that escaped Catriona along with her breath made Darach look up sharply at her. Seeing her begin to fall, he scrambled to his feet. Reaching her just in time, Darach caught Catriona before she could hit the ground. As she lay limp in his arms, she whispered up to him.
“Fiona.”
Chapter Ten
Catriona was out for several seconds. Darach looked from Catriona to the woman on the ground, and back to Catriona once more. What the hell has happened here? Catriona obviously knew this woman, so it seemed likely that she was a clan-woman of the Sinclair’s. Fiona? Gawain Dunbar had mentioned a Fiona.
Beyond something matrimonial, who would slay a woman like this? Not just kill her, but to brutalize her in such a way. Surely, this was the work of a madman? Darach needed answers, and the only person who could provide them was lying unconscious in his arms.
Darach looked at her face, oddly peaceful in her moments of fainting. Her face was as white as snow. Of course, the shock of what she had seen would undoubtedly account for that. However, there were dark rings around her eyes and her face was somewhat thinner than he remembered it. Had she been suffering somehow at the hands of her brother? Wanting to get her out of sight and away from the body of the dead woman, Darach lifted her and carried her a little way into the woodlands.
As he gently set her down, Catriona opened her eyes. She looked confused for a moment, as if trying to piece together all that she had seen. Looking about her and realizing that Darach had moved her further into the woods, Catriona let out a piercing scream and began to struggle in his arms.
Knowing what she was thinking, Darach held tightly to her. For so many reasons, he knew he could not let her go. For one thing, she could run screaming back to Sinclair Castle and declare that he, Darach Abernethy, had slain one of their clans-women. The consequences of this were almost unimaginable. Certainly, the Sinclair Clan would take it as their right to exact revenge, and be justified in their actions. There would barely be time to get back to Kincaid Castle and rally his kin to warn them of the coming storm. No, as much as it pained
him to terrify the lass further, he could not let her go home.
Furthermore, as shocked as she was, if he let Catriona run screaming into the countryside, she might well fall prey to the same beast who had done for this poor woman. The very image of this beautiful body in his arms lain waste in the same way as Fiona, made him increase his grip yet further still. Catriona writhed in his arms, shouting at him to let her go.
“Catriona. Catriona, please. You must listen to me lass,” he spoke in as soothing tones as he could muster, desperate to get her calm.
“Catriona, I did not do this terrible thing. I know that you dinnae know me. I know you mistrusted me the first time we met, but I have no ill will for you. I promised you that the last time we parted, and I stand by it now.” As a last resort, Darach began to stroke her hair. He loosened his grip a little, aught to engender trust. Catriona was in shock, but it was so deep, he knew there was more.
Finally, she began to relax against him. Darach rocked her gently in his arms, conscious that the blood which had covered him, now covered her.
“That’s it, lassie. Just relax. Breathe deeply. I will never, ever hurt you.”
It was working. Catriona’s breathing slowed and she began to return to herself.
“I cannot tell you how much horror I have seen today,” her voice seemed tiny.
“Try, Catriona. Let me help you.”
Thomas Mackinnon paced up and down the floor of Kyle Sinclair’s chamber.
“How long ‘till somebody finds her do you think?”
“Stay calm, she’ll be found.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Ach, because of where we placed her. She’s on a track well used by us, the MacIver’s and the Ferguson’s. She’ll be found, I tell you.”
Thomas looked pale. Kyle didnae like it, he could feel his new friend becoming squeamish.
