Highland Devil

by Hannah Howell

  “Weel, I wouldnae say wonderful”—he chuckled—“but I do like the mon and I trust him.”

  “Since he is the one my parents wanted me and Andrew to run to, I must assume they trusted him as weel.”

  “Aye, and your fither probably saw Sigimor’s ability to protect ye and the boy.”

  “Are they truly all redheads? I remember a lot of boys and a lot of red hair.”

  “Every shade of red and, aye, they are mostly boys, only having one sister. She wed a mon from the MacEnroy clan.”

  “Connections all over.”

  “Och, aye. Our families’ lassies have done us proud with their marriages. As have a fair number of the lads. We e’en keep a presence at the king’s court, and it has been clear that there are those who see our good fortune with a jealous eye and it can rouse some bad feelings. We send our smartest lads, sometimes our prettiest, too, but they are also the ones who can be diplomatic, even courteous, nay matter how badly he may wish to punch someone in the face.”

  She laughed softly, thought briefly of pulling away, but decided she liked where she was. The strength she could feel in him and the warmth of him were both comforting. It was hard to imagine a family as vast as his sounded, the connections to other clans so various and, from the way he talked, strong and friendly. As for keeping a person in the king’s court to watch out for any possible enemies, it was difficult to imagine. Her parents had never appeared to even think of such things.

  When he abruptly rode Jester into the midst of a clump of trees, she sat up and looked around. “What is it?” she asked as he draped the blankets over his horse to hide the white mane and tail.

  “Someone comes.” He pointed at her bag to show her Freya sitting up and scowling at the road, her ears flattened and the fur on her back slightly bristled.

  “My cousins?”

  “I think it may be as the cat only reacts so fiercely when it is them coming our way. Dinnae ken how she can tell though, yet it appears she can. Several men riding our way. They dinnae sound as if they are in much of a hurry.” He stared down the road and whispered a curse when he recognized the four men riding their way. “Aye,’tis your cursed cousins.”

  Mora quickly pulled up her hood to hide her pale hair, which could easily be a beacon telling her cousins where she was. “They didnae linger at the inn.”

  “Nay, and obviously didnae hear anything to deter them from riding straight for Dubheidland.”

  “So, what do we do now?” She tried to talk as softly as he did.

  “We wait. E’en if they get there and are let in, they willnae get what they want, so will soon be headed back this way,” Gybbon said as he bent forward until he was flat against his horse’s strong neck.

  After settling herself flat against Gybbon, Mora waited for her cousins to ride by. She had hoped they would stay at the inn, enjoying proper beds and hot food for a few days. But they had not, and thus she and Gybbon would not have at least one day without trouble. It was evident that Robert was determined to be rid of her as soon as possible. She prayed Maggie was hiding Andrew well.

  Then Gybbon began to sit up, but continued to frown in the direction her cousins had gone. “What is wrong?” she asked.

  “I am nay sure. Robert looked his usual sullen self. Yet, I noticed that his brothers all stayed behind him as they rode and rarely took their eyes off him. He would look back at them now and then, but it wasnae a friendly or brotherly glance.”

  “Mayhaps they just grow weary of the chase.”

  “Possible, but I begin to wonder if they now all think as we do. Robert isnae quite sane and, I believe, none of what he is doing is for the benefit of his brothers. Cannae be sure because we dinnae ken what reason he told them for all of this.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “Might as weel ride closer to the cottage. We cannae ride to Dubheidland with them straight between us and the keep. But at least when they finally leave the place, we will be close to where we can take our rest for the night.”

  “Good idea. And mayhap we can overhear something important when they go by again.”

  “That would certainly be helpful.”

  “I just wish I could understand what he thinks he can gain with all this. Aye, the house is a good one and the land is fertile, but there isnae all that much of it, not compared to what his father still holds. The keep is far grander with a great deal more land, fertile land and good grazing land. It just doesnae make any sense.”

  “Greed often doesnae. It would shock ye to discover how many of those who seek out more and more actually have a lot already. ’Tis as if they get a wee taste of the riches and grow gluttonous.”

  She sighed. “Nay, it wouldnae shock me, I fear. One just hopes for something better from one’s own kin.”

  “Weel, we shall ride on within the trees and hope they come back this way and leave before we find a cottage or that small manor house that is out this way. If they dinnae show, then it will be another night on the ground.”

  Mora could not completely hide a grimace. Her wound would not like that at all. She needed it looked at and then pampered for a short while. It needed to be cleaned, closed, and have healing cream put on. A night on what would be cold, damp ground could easily bring on a fever. As they wound their way through the trees, she prayed they would reach Sigimor’s soon. She needed to tend the wound properly or it would become very troublesome indeed, dangerously so.

  She hung onto him as they continued to meander through the trees. Mora was beginning to get sleepy as the day drew near an end when Gybbon suddenly stopped and moved up nearer to the road. He tossed blankets over Jester’s tail and mane again and she struggled to wake herself up so she could hear whatever her cousins might speak of.

  “Is it them again?” she asked softly.

  Gybbon looked around at her, thinking she sounded very groggy, but the light was too dim under the trees now that the sun was setting to see what ailed her. “Aye, and Robert looks furious,” he answered just as softly. “Didnae ye hear your cat sound her alarm?”

  She just shrugged. “I felt ye change direction and when I saw ye draw nearer to the road, I just assumed it was them.” She reached down to scratch her cat’s head. “Good lass,” she murmured.

  Finally awake enough to see the road they watched more clearly, she saw the four men slowly approach. Robert led them, his three brothers still staying as far out of his reach as possible yet close enough to hear any orders he might direct at them. Gybbon was right. Robert looked furious. Since he was still alive, she had to assume he had not openly displayed his temper to the Camerons.

  “So what do we do now, Robert?” asked Duncan.

  “About what? Those fool Camerons?”

  “The fact that Mora wasnae there, nor was Andrew.”

  “We go and hunt for Andrew. He cannae be any harder to find than she is.”

  “Robert,” said Murdoch, and he swallowed visibly, “Andrew is just a boy. Only seven.”

  “Aye, and with no male about to raise him.”

  Mora could feel all the blood drain from her cheeks for she now knew what he had planned. If she was right, and both her heart and mind screamed that she was, the man just might win if she could not get Andrew to someplace safe where Robert could not find him. Andrew would never survive if Robert got the care of him.

  “I dinnae ken what ye mean.”

  “He is a boy child and heir to a fine house and a goodly amount of land. He should have an older, higher ranked male guardian.”

  “Ye want to take care of the boy?”

  “God, nay. I just want to get my hands on him and that will help me do so. Who is that fool woman Aunt Rona liked so much? She lives in the town.”

  “Maggie,” Lachlan said quietly. “She lives in a cottage just down the street from the butcher’s. What do ye think she can do for ye?”

  “Give me the boy.”

  “Ye think she has him? If ye thought that, why have we been riding all
over the countryside?” Duncan demanded.

  “If Mora doesnae have him, he is with Maggie. Thus far we have nay proof that he is with his sister, do we? The Camerons arenae going to let us look for Mora on their land; the laird made that verra clear as did the ones at the keep, so we will take the time to go have a look for the boy and start to get the papers needed to take him into our care. We are his closest male relatives. It shouldnae be hard to get whomever has a say in such things to hand him over to us.”

  Mora felt as horrified as Duncan, Lachlan, and Murdoch looked, although they did their best to quickly wipe those expressions from their faces. She knew Robert meant to kill her brother, neatly ridding himself of the last heir to what he coveted, but she also knew he would make life a living hell for the boy before he found a way to kill him without being blamed for it. As soon as possible, she had to find Andrew and get him tucked away safely before Robert got his murderous hands on him.

  Then she thought of Aunt Maggie. That woman’s life was now also in danger. Robert would not tolerate any defiance from a woman and Maggie would give him plenty as she protected her dearest friend’s child. Somehow Mora had to find a way to get to Maggie and help her.

  Her cousins rode out of range and she could hear no more. Gybbon began to ride back into the trees, stripping off the blankets that hid his mount’s startling color. He knew she needed to get someplace where her wound could be seen to before she could even attempt to think of a way to help Aunt Maggie.

  Once away from where her cousins had slowed their pace to talk, she said, “I have to get my brother before he does.”

  “Aye, ye do, but we can decide how that will be done when we stop winding our way through the woods.” Gybbon glanced back at her. “Do ye think they mean to ride fast to town and catch her or that she is fool enough to stay where they ken she should be?”

  Aunt Maggie was neither brave nor terribly clever, but she was not completely witless. She knew who had killed her friend and her husband. She would expect them to come looking for the boy. Mora was just not sure where she would, or could, go. Maggie had never spoken much of her family, save for one elder sister, or her life before the old laird had taken her for his leman. She did have one friend near her, Morag Sinclair, who would take her in and hide her, but that would then put two older women in danger.

  “Nay, she isnae. Oh, she can be verra silly at times and she isnae the bravest woman, but she will ken that they will come looking for the boy. Of that I feel certain. She and my mother were as close as any sisters and adored each other. Aunt Maggie will do what she must to try and protect Andrew.”

  “Then let her do what she must for a wee while as we come up with a sound plan to go and get her and Andrew.”

  “I will.” Mora just hoped she could hold to that and not let fear and worry make her break that vow.

  * * *

  “Damn. Someone is staying in the manor.” Gybbon rode a little closer, almost out of the trees. “I guess we will have to go on and find the cottage and hope it is empty.”

  “Wait,” Mora said as the door opened and some man stepped out. “Who is that? He has red hair. Could he be a Cameron?”

  “Not only Camerons have red hair, ye ken, but aye, that is Sigimor.” Gybbon nudged his horse forward and the man turned to stare at him.

  “What are ye doing lurking about in my woods?” asked Sigimor as Gybbon rode up.

  “Keeping this lass from being killed by her greed-maddened cousin.”

  Mora leaned around Gybbon and smiled at Sigimor. Now she understood why her own family had so much red hair. He looked big and strong and was frowning at her.

  “Weel, come on in and tell us what the trouble is.”

  Gybbon put his horse away, then led Mora into the manor. He entered the hall where Sigimor and his wife sat at the table and a maid was finishing the laying out of food and drink. After greeting Jolene, and introducing Mora to both of them, he urged Mora to sit on the bench and then sat beside her. She set her bag down under the table and a moment later Freya appeared at her side.

  “Ye brought a cat?” Sigimor said.

  “This is Freya,” Mora said. “She is my cat. Do ye wish her away from here?”

  “No, of course not,” said Jolene, ignoring her husband’s frown. “I love cats, especially little ones.”

  “So why are ye running about my woods, Gybbon?” asked Sigimor. “I shouldnae have Murrays skipping through my woods.”

  “I was bringing Mora here. Her parents told her to come to ye if there was trouble, and there was. Someone killed her parents as they were coming home from the market.”

  Sigimor looked at Mora and asked, “Who were your parents, lass?”

  “They were Rona and David Ogilvy.” She saw a brief flash of sadness touch his face and was both saddened by the news she had just given him and pleased he had remembered her parents.

  “A shame, lass. Your mother was very prompt in replying to any question I wrote her about when I was raising my brothers and sister. She would have stayed to help me if I had asked even though she ne’er mentioned it, but there was great comfort in kenning I had someone I could ask who would answer promptly.”

  “I think she knew that.”

  “Who killed them?”

  “My cousin Robert. His brothers ride with him, but I begin to think they havenae had anything to do with killing anyone.”

  “Then why are they riding with him?”

  “I think they ken he is mad and wish to keep him from doing something even a nearly dead laird’s son cannae escape harsh punishment for.”

  “Is he mad?” Sigimor asked Gybbon, and Mora used the chance to help herself to some food, carefully cutting up a bit of meat for Freya.

  “Such a pretty little cat,” said Jolene as she sat on the other side of the animal and gently stroked her fur.

  “And the best warning bell I have e’er had,” said Gybbon.

  “Warning bell?” asked Jolene, staring at the cat, who calmly kept eating.

  “Aye, she lets us ken when anyone is approaching on horseback. She growls or hisses when someone is coming, looks in the direction they are coming from, too. We now ken she hisses when it is Mora’s cousins.”

  “Why would she do that?” asked Sigimor as he watched the cat his wife was cooing over.

  “She is verra little for a grown cat and everything frightens her. She kens what is a danger and avoids it. In truth, she stays with me all the time, ever since I beat off a hawk that thought she looked tasty. I suspicion she also senses my alarm.”

  “Smart cat, and those are words I would ne’er have thought to say. Why are your cousins trying to kill ye? And why did they kill your parents?”

  “They want what was left to my father. I fear they also killed my brothers, Niall and David.”

  “Ye dinnae ken for certain?”

  “Nay, they were in France to fight and gain some coin, but they have nay returned and ne’er wrote to my mother and father. Verra unlike them.”

  Sigimor kept asking questions and Mora did her best to answer though she was feeling deeply tired, fighting to keep her eyes open even as her head ached and her wound throbbed. When he turned his questions on Gybbon, she turned to Jolene. She hoped the woman knew something about healing as she knew she needed something done soon.

  “Do ye ken anything about healing?” she asked softly.

  “Aye. Do ye need something?”

  “I got a wee wound when running from Robert and I begin to think it needs something.”

  “Oh.” Jolene felt her forehead and frowned. “Yes, I believe ye do.”

  “Has she got a fever?” Sigimor asked.

  Jolene sighed. “Nay. She just needs a little woman’s aid. ’Tis just habit to feel for a fever. There is nothing I can catch here, so you can just go back to pummeling Gybbon for information.”

  Gybbon watched Mora collect her bag, let Freya in it, and then follow Jolene up the stairs. “Why are ye fretting about fever? It h
asnae struck here again, has it?”

  “Nay, but I admit, I fret o’er illness,” Sigimor answered.

  “No one has better reason. Is that why ye are here? There is illness at the keep?”

  “Aye, and I am certain Jolene is right, that it is nothing of any great consequence, but I rushed her and the bairns here as fast as I could. Fergus will come to tell me when it is gone.”

  “Good. It is that time of the year, Sigimor. I doubt it is anything truly bad.”

  “I ken it. Annoys me as I didnae ken I was worried so about such things until I had my bairns and a wife. Now, we can talk more plainly about this trouble the lass has. I am saddened by her parents’ death as her mother was a great help, yet wise enough to wait until asked and nay pushing herself into the family. And now I am here to talk of these murderous cousins and sort them out. ’Tis the least I can do for how she helped me and mine.”

  Gybbon grinned, helped himself to some more cider, and proceeded to tell Sigimor everything he knew. He also told him all he and Mora had guessed at from overhearing the cousins’ conversations. The questions Sigimor asked and some of the ideas he threw out told Gybbon that Mora’s parents had chosen well when considering their daughter’s safety.

  Chapter Six

  “Oh, my dear,” said Jolene when Mora disrobed enough to show her the wound. “You are very close to being badly infected by this wound. Lie down. I fear the first thing I must do is close it.”

  “I ken it.” Mora lay down on the bed and winced as she looked at the wound; it looked redder than it had, was still open, and there was a little swelling around it. “I thought that it might need a stitch or two, but I just couldnae sew my own skin shut.”

  “No, I can fully understand that. This will all hurt,” Jolene said as she began to gather the things she needed to work.

  “Ye dinnae have any soothing words?”

  “No, and if I tried them on any of these mad Camerons, I would be laughed at or seriously lectured about lying. I do have to cleanse this as much as I can and that will hurt. Mayhap that will make the rest seem less unpleasant. Myself? I will cry like a tiny bairn if I am even told a wound on me needs stitching.”