Highland Devil

by Hannah Howell

  Andrew frowned but grasped her by the hand instead. “They found me, Mora. I was in my safe place.”

  “Good lad. Ye did right. I think that I had best get back on my bed now though,” she murmured, feeling a bit shaky.

  She squeaked when Gybbon scooped her up in his arms and Andrew kept his grip on her hand, running along with them as Gybbon strode back to her room. He set her down on her bed and frowned down at her. Mora sensed a lecture coming on, but Jolene hurried over and pushed both Andrew and Gybbon away from the bed.

  “Are you sure you did not open the wound again?” Jolene asked Mora.

  “Aye, verra sure. I just had no strength left after the short walk to the stairs.”

  “No surprise. I will have a look later, though; mayhaps change the bandage.”

  “Thank ye. The cream does seem to still the sting and itch of it.”

  A moment later Mora found herself alone with Gybbon and Andrew. “Maggie?” she whispered.

  “We cannae be certain. The cottage was burned, but one mon, a fellow named Iain, said he saw her run out and he helped to put the fire out where her skirts had caught alight. Then she looked around, probably for Andrew, who had run off to hide by then, and then she got in her wagon, which was packed with a lot of her things. Iain said she told him not to tell anyone but Mora that she was going to her sister’s, and then she rode off. No one else has seen her. We e’en talked with Morag Sinclair.”

  “Maggie went to her sister’s?”

  “Aye, she did,” said Andrew. “I thought she had died in the fire. She ran into the house while it was burning fierce and the roof started falling down. I heard her scream and could see a bit of dress catch on fire, so I believed she had died. I should have waited.”

  Mora reached out to ruffle his hair. “Then Gybbon and the men wouldnae have found you.”

  “Oh, is that true?” Andrew looked up at Gybbon and Gybbon nodded. “Can I get up on the bed now?”

  “Weel, I think ye need to get washed up and change your clothes. Ye smell strongly of smoke.”

  Andrew sniffed the sleeve of his shirt and grimaced. “Aye, I do.”

  “Go ask the lady we met at the door when we arrived here. She will help.”

  The moment the boy was gone, Gybbon frowned down at Mora. Her eyes were already closing and he guessed the small burst of strength she had found when hearing Andrew’s voice had faded away. There would have to be some time spent for her to get a lot of rest until she could hold on to that strength before they headed to Gormfuerach. He reached out to brush strands of hair from her face.

  “Thank ye so verra much,” she said softly. “I feared he was lost.”

  “I think it may have been close. Maggie had been packing to leave. She made Andrew stay out by the wagon so that the men wouldnae see him when they came. Maggie’s only mistake was thinking they were done after they had knocked her around some. They set fire to her house as they left. Andrew saw her come out but then run back inside. When he saw the ceilings fall he was so certain she had died, he ran to his tree. The mon named Iain came by then and saw her stagger out, coughing and with her skirts alight. He threw some water on her skirts, she looked about but didnae see any sign of Andrew, so she left.”

  “And then ye went to his safe place. His wee keep as my mother called it.” She smiled faintly.

  “We did. Sigimor was impressed. Took some coaxing to get him out, but talk of his soldier, you, and Freya did the trick. Get some rest, Mora. And, aye, before ye ask, ye are still too weak to move about much or travel, but that will pass quickly. As soon as Jolene believes ye are weel enough, we will go to Gormfeurach.”

  She nodded, only the faintest of movements, but he knew she was still more asleep than awake. He bent down and kissed her on the mouth, lingering for a minute and savoring the warm softness of her lips. Then he stood up straight, could not resist running his fingers through her hair once more, and walked away.

  Mora opened her eyes enough to watch him leave, then sighed and touched her lips. She had to wonder what a proper kiss, one where they were both awake, would feel like. Considering how the small kisses he gave her made her heart pound, she was not sure she could survive a proper one.

  * * *

  “How does she fare?” asked Sigimor when Gybbon sat down next to him and poured himself some ale.

  “Weak but no fever and clear of thought. There isnae any way to tell how long it will take her to be able to move about freely enough for even a ride in a wagon. Especially for the two, mayhap e’en three days it will take to get to Gormfeurach.”

  “But it may give us time to stare down the sheriff and get him to cease sniffing around and find out how he can keep believing in the lies those brothers tell him.”

  “Mayhap we should take the time to go visit the mon and see just what lies he has believed.”

  “I dinnae have much say in getting a mon that post for ’tis Ogilvy land, but my opinion is nay ignored.”

  Gybbon grinned. “Does anyone manage to ignore your opinion on something?”

  “My wife.”

  Gybbon just laughed for Sigimor sounded truly impressed and proud of that fact. He was satisfied with the meager plan. It would be good to be home, to have his brother at his side as he attempted to help Mora. He also wanted to take this trouble away from Sigimor. The man would stand firm for the ones he called friend or family in front of anything, but he had to live here, near the Ogilvy clan. He also had a wife, a son, and two little daughters who needed an army of nurses to keep them out of trouble. There was also the matter of so many of his people being ill. It was going to be better if he took this trouble with him when he left.

  * * *

  It was late the next day before they got a chance to ride back to the village. This time only Sigimor, Gybbon, and Tait went. As they rode past the house with the green door, Morag was out cleaning her thresh stone. She paused, looked at them and smiled, then waved. All three men waved back.

  The place that held the jail and the sheriff was impressively tidy but the men standing outside looked sullen. Gybbon wondered if the men the sheriff had hired knew the Ogilvy brothers were spouting lies. They all dismounted, tied up the horses to the post, and went inside.

  The first thing one saw upon entering the building was the sheriff. The man sat behind a big, heavy table covered in a rather ornate cloth. Even though where it was set made it clear to anyone coming in that this man was the leader, Gybbon thought such a huge wooden table made the man look small. It was more suited to a man like Sigimor.

  “What can I do for ye, sirs?” the man asked, but did not get up.

  “We want to ken what the Ogilvy brothers have told ye,” said Sigimor.

  “Ye mean about that lass with the cat?”

  “Aye, about the lass. What have ye been told that has ye hunting her?”

  “She murdered Old William, who was caring for our laird, and she stole Robert’s sword to do it. We are wondering if it was she who also killed David and his wife.”

  Sigimor laughed. “And ye considered that a possibility? Fool. The lad is using ye to get what they want. They want the estate back to what it was in their grandfather’s time and will kill anyone who stands in the way.”

  “David was their uncle,” the man said angrily, and shifted around in his chair.

  Sigimor sighed and stood up straight, using his size as an unspoken threat. “And a mon as honorable as any I have met.” He walked up to the sheriff, yanked him and his chair back, reached under the desk, and yanked out a buxom blond Gybbon had once seen in the tavern. “Go on, lass, and I would suggest ye keep as far away from those Ogilvy boys and this mon as ye can until this mess is all over.” He looked back at the sheriff as the girl ran out of the office. “Now, mayhap, we will have your full attention.” He glanced at Gybbon as he walked back to stand beside him. “That was the cause of those sullen looks outside, I am thinking.”

  “Aye, he wasnae sharing.” Gybbon was fighting back
the urge to laugh heartily.

  “Look, the laird . . .” sputtered the sheriff, but he shut up when Sigimor raised his hand.

  “The laird is dying. Have ye even looked into why? He gets worse every day. Old William was killed because he accused Robert of poisoning the laird and, surprise, Old William then dies by Robert’s sword. Now, Old William was a tall, burly mon, but the lass, Mora Ogilvy, is near as small as my wife. Ye truly think she could swing a blade that size and kill a man? And what crime have they said the seven-year-old lad is guilty of that warrants trying to kill him? Nay, ye are nay thinking on any of this.”

  “I have been thinking on it. Ye look for who gains. ’Tis the lass.”

  “’Tis Robert as the firstborn. His da dies, he becomes laird. That family of David’s ends, then that land comes back to the laird.”

  “She still has twa brothers.”

  “Does she?” asked Gybbon. “They havenae sent any word and nay come home. I suspect David came and spoke to ye of it.” Gybbon nodded when a faint color hit the man’s cheeks. “Didnae help him either, did ye? Come on, Sigimor. There is nay point to this visit.”

  “True. I liked David,” Sigimor said in a low, quiet voice that even made Gybbon feel like shivering. “Since ye seem incapable of doing the job, I may start looking for his and his poor wife’s killers myself.”

  Gybbon followed Sigimor outside. “Are ye sure threatening the mon was a good idea?”

  “He would have talked us to death trying to convince us the lies he was told are fact and then I would have had to kill him. Aye, a nice threat was better for the moment. At the next meeting of the lairds round here I will make my opinion of the fool clear. He is getting a nice sum from us all to bumble around and be bribed by pretty little blonds under the desk.”

  Gybbon released the hearty laugh he had held back while with the sheriff. He and Sigimor mounted their horses and slowly rode out of the village. He noticed Morag still by her front door, but she was talking to Iain and another man. It was possible Morag could get people in the village thinking more on what was happening. Gybbon wished her luck if that was what she was trying to do.

  “How are the people of Dubheidland doing? Still sick?” he asked.

  “Improving slowly. As ye said, ’tis that time of year.”

  “Good. It will pass and everyone will be back in fighting shape. But we cannae ask it of them now. My brother’s men are now all trained, weel and hard, and they are eager to practice their skills.”

  “Ye think those fools will hunt her down there?”

  “Robert is killing his own father with poison, he killed two innocent, well-liked, generous people and one of them his own uncle, and maybe e’en two brothers who had ne’er done him any wrong that we have heard of. So, aye, I think he will see her hunted to the edges of the earth.”

  “Ye are probably right. That poor laddie, too.”

  “He is just another male heir so, aye, the boy, too.”

  “I wonder what the people at the keep are thinking.”

  “They probably ken the truth, but what power do they have to do anything about it? The laird is useless yet nay dead and would he e’en listen to accusations against his own sons? Nay, I suspect they are all scurrying about, tending to their chores, and keeping their heads down.”

  “I wouldnae mind getting a look at the old mon though, with Jolene. She could tell if it was poison or nay.”

  “I am nay sure it would be safe for either of us to go to the keep. We cannae be sure if Robert is there and he would recognize us as the ones who are getting in his way.”

  “Mayhap, but I dinnae think he would chance acting against any laird round here when his father is only ill, nay dead. ’Tis hard to judge the mon’s greed, true enough, but ’tis clear to see he has a good idea of what is needed to protect himself.” Sigimor frowned. “He was probably one of those children who delighted in beating down the children of those he considered less important than himself.”

  “I doubt ye would get much protest from his brothers as I am growing more certain that this is his idea, his plan. The others go along out of fear.”

  Sigimor looked at Gybbon and cocked his head. “Ye think they would just stand by and allow him to be accused?”

  “I do, yet cannae say they would do so if he cried out for their help or if they felt sure he would get out of the trap and then come looking for them. I have ne’er seen brothers like them. ’Tis as if he is their lord and master and one who would probably kill them if they disobeyed. Aye, brothers ken which one of them will be the laird when the father is gone, but they still act as equals until it happens.”

  “Weel, your family is a strong one. And I suspicion your father would have interfered with a strong hand if one brother tried to rule the others. Seems the old laird may have played favorites and gave Robert too high an opinion of himself, or he was just born mean.” Sigimor reined in in front of his manor. “I think we will go to see this ailing laird and offer my wife’s skills if needed.”

  “Are we taking any men with us?” asked Gybbon as he hurried to follow Sigimor.

  “Of course. I am a laird. Need some men when I ride about distributing my largesse.” He grinned when Gybbon laughed.

  * * *

  Although Jolene was not sure it was a good idea, she gathered up her things for healing, making certain she had what was needed to treat a poisoning, and had her mount readied. Five men rode with them as they traveled to the Ogilvy keep. Sigimor just sighed when they had to go through a careful examination of who they were and what they wanted before the gates were opened.

  When they were allowed inside the keep they were met by the head of the guard and the woman who ran the household. Sigimor knew the head of the guard and Gybbon watched in amazement as Jolene charmed the housekeeper so well the two linked arms as they went up to the laird’s chamber. The shock of her being English had not lasted long.

  The laird’s room smelled of sickness and approaching death to Gybbon. The man in the bed looked gray and he kept moaning, a low, soft noise that made the housekeeper teary eyed. Jolene patted the woman’s arm and walked closer to the bed.

  “What is she doing?” he asked, as Jolene carefully looked at the laird’s hands.

  “Checking him for signs of poisoning. I occasionally wonder if I should worry that she kens so much about them.” He exchanged a grin with Gybbon. “There is one that is used so often ye have to wonder why all healers dinnae ken what to look for.”

  Jolene then spent a long time talking with the housekeeper, who grew more and more upset. She took the woman to a bench under the window and calmed her, talking quietly and seriously until the woman was nodding her head. The head of the guard walked over to Sigimor.

  “Your wife thinks someone is poisoning our laird,” said the guard.

  “Then someone probably is. When it comes to healing I ne’er question my wife.”

  “Unless she tells you that you have to stay abed,” Jolene said, and went right back to talking with the housekeeper.

  Gybbon laughed and noticed even the head of the guard was fighting a grin. “It was Robert, wasnae it?” the man softly asked.

  “Aye,” replied Sigimor. “He also saw to the killing of David and his wife, may have seen to the killing of David’s older sons, and is now after the boy, Colin.”

  “Jesu. There always was a meanness in the lad, but I ne’er would have thought he would do all this.”

  “Watch your step, Colin. Ye can do nay good if he kills ye, too.”

  “Och, I ken it, but I am verra good at looking like I am doing what I am told without actually doing it, and I can keep a secret.”

  “Can the housekeeper?”

  “None better. She just has to worry about getting the laird better without telling how she kenned who made him sick. I will watch her as I suspect the cure will be slow.”

  “Aye. It all depends on how much the lad has given the mon.”

  “He can clean out his system s
lowly and it will be messy and ugly,” said Jolene.

  “So somehow they have to keep Robert from ‘aiding’ his da until there is proof of Robert’s guilt he will believe.”

  “That willnae be easy. The other lads? Young Murdoch?” asked Colin.

  “It looks as if Robert leads and the others are too afraid nay to follow,” replied Gybbon.

  “That feels right. It has always been that way, but the old laird wouldnae listen if ye tried to tell him that Robert needed some reining in. He was a mean, often vicious boy.” Colin shook his head.

  “We will be busy trying to keep the lass and the wee lad safe,” said Sigimor.

  “Ye shouldnae put yourself in the way, m’laird. Ye have to live here.”

  “Oh, I ken it. ’Tis why we are handing that job over to the Murrays.” Sigimor clapped Gybbon on the back. “But if ye think there needs to be someone other than a clan member to do something, ye ken where I am most days, Colin.”

  “I certainly do. Thank ye.”

  “We best go now. Housekeeper is about to give the laird the first of the cleansing tonics he must drink,” Jolene said softly, and started for the door.

  “This is going to be bad, aye,” said Colin, and cast a longing look at the door. “It always is when a healer says cleansing.”

  “Just verra messy, I fear.”

  Sigimor said their farewells to Colin and got out of the room. Just as Sigimor was shutting the door behind them they heard that the ordeal had begun. He slammed it shut and hurried down the steps. At the bottom stood Robert and his brothers. Murdoch looked wretched even though his bruises appeared to be healing. Robert looked furious, whereas Lachlan and Duncan moved carefully until they flanked Murdoch.

  “What are ye doing here?” Robert barked.

  “We came to see your father,” Sigimor said as he kept moving forward, until Robert stepped out of the way. “Ye do ken that we make an effort to keep the three clans around here close and friendly so all is peaceful. I thought that this time my wife’s skills at healing might be helpful.”