Highland Devil

by Hannah Howell

  A woman went racing up the stairs with a bucket and two others followed with mops and rags. “What have ye done?” Robert demanded, foolishly glaring at Jolene.

  “His system is being cleansed as he appears to have eaten or drunk something poisonous. He should get better now with the housekeeper tending all he eats and drinks. Colin will oversee it all.” Ignoring the man before her, she slipped her arm through Sigimor’s and said sweetly, “Shall we go now, m’love?”

  Sigimor just nodded and led her out the door. Gybbon followed and saw Murdoch slip out after him. He turned to face the youth and felt badly for him. It was not a trap he would like to be in. If Murdoch angered Robert he would pay, but his loyalty was to his father in the end.

  “Do ye want something?” Gybbon asked.

  “It was poison, was it?”

  “Oh, aye. Lady Jolene kens her healing arts and she says so.”

  “Thank ye, and get the lass and the boy away from here.” He turned and went back into the keep.

  “What was that about?” asked Sigimor as they started the ride back to the manor.

  “Murdoch just wished to be certain it was poison,” Gybbon replied. “Then he told me to get the lass and the boy away from here.”

  Jolene sighed. “He is afraid his brother will increase his efforts to be rid of them now that the laird is being watched.”

  “And so ye shall do as he asks, as soon as possible,” Sigimor said.

  “Aye. To Gormfeurach and shut the gates on her as soon as I can.”

  Chapter Ten

  Mora woke up slowly and stretched. It felt good to be able to do so, even tentatively, yet not feel the pull and pinch of stitching. Jolene had removed the stitching last night and declared her wound healed with a caution: she could still not ride a horse for a while. Mora was not pleased by that but knew she would do everything the woman told her to.

  She turned onto her unwounded side to look out the window and found herself staring into Gybbon’s eyes. They were mostly green this morning. Mora had not yet made up her mind about why or how they changed at times. Then she became fully aware of the fact that he was lying in her bed. She squealed softly and pushed away, catching herself just in time to save herself from the humiliation of falling out of bed.

  “What are ye doing in my bed?”

  “Waiting for ye to wake up. We leave today for Gormfeurach, ye ken.”

  She found the thought of him watching her sleep a little alarming and hoped she had not done anything too unappealing. “But ’tis barely sunrise.”

  “Sun has already cleared the horizon. It is a bit of a long journey to my home.”

  “How long?”

  “Twa days, mayhap three. Ne’er made the journey with a cart before.”

  “We could wait until I can ride a horse.”

  “Nay. ’Tis best if we can slip away from here as soon as we can. The sheriff and his men are looking hard for ye and Andrew. Sigimor rebuffed Robert, too, who now leads more than just his brothers. I say ten men, but Sigimor said twelve.”

  “They still hunt for me and Andrew?”

  “Aye, I believe his brothers do as he says, but they are afraid of him. Others only see that he is their laird’s firstborn son and should be obeyed. I have ne’er understood why, but a lot of people seem to think a firstborn son is just like his da.”

  “Do ye ken if Colin and the housekeeper are still weel?”

  “Och, aye, they are, and they remain close by the laird. I think some of the men protect them as weel, and as much as they can, but the place is ne’er going to be verra safe for them until Robert is gone. Seems they have tried to warn the laird about his son, but he isnae heeding them. They stopped because they didnae wished to be pushed away and leave the old mon unprotected.”

  “There is naught we can do?” She tensed a little when he reached out to toy with a lock of her hair.

  “Nay. We did all we can and he is getting better. What needs to be done now is getting ye and Andrew far away from Robert and here, where the sheriff can reach ye, too.”

  “Weel, if we are to be traveling soon, ye best get out of here so that I can get ready.” She shivered as he slowly stroked her neck.

  “I could help,” he said as he shifted close enough to wrap his arm around her waist. “I am verra good with laces.”

  “So am I. I believe I can manage without aid despite my infirmity,” she said as she placed her hands on his chest, intending to give him a little shove. “And that may be something ye shouldnae say to women as they then wonder why and where ye got such skill.”

  He grinned. “Your infirmity? And the skill can be picked up easily enough if one has a family that includes a lot of women and girls, unlike the Camerons or the MacFingals.” He laughed softly as he tugged her closer.

  Mora had the feeling that she should stop him as he lowered his mouth to hers and held her close. Instead she let him kiss her, and this time it was not an innocent, light brush of the lips. This time he put some urgency into it. Slowly, making very certain she caused herself no pain, she reached up to put her arms around his neck and hold him close, savoring the feel of his strength and warmth. When he lightly nipped at her bottom lip, she gasped, and suddenly his tongue was in her mouth. He stroked the inside of her mouth and she began to warily mimic his actions as a strange fever began to grow deep inside her.

  This is desire, she thought, and was both fascinated and tempted. The embrace he held her in tightened and he pulled her even closer until their bodies were hard up against each other. She was just sinking into the pleasure of another kiss when a sharp pain caused her to cry out.

  Gybbon pulled away from her and cursed himself for being so impatient. He had wanted her from the moment he had set eyes on her, but her wound, as well as all her other troubles, had worked to hold him back. Knowing that her stitches were out had loosened the reins on that control. Kissing her had snapped them completely.

  “I am so sorry,” he said as he tried to lift the hand she had clapped over the wound. “I wasnae thinking. . . .”

  Mora pushed his hand away. “’Tis all right. Truly,” she reassured him when he looked doubtful. “’Twas mostly surprise that it could still hurt.”

  “And so it should when some braw laddie is clutching you tight and tossing you round the bed.”

  Covering her face with her hands so that she hid what she knew was a fierce blush stinging her cheeks, Mora wondered why they had not heard Jolene enter the room. Now she could add the embarrassment she felt at crying out like a child over what had only been a brief, if painful, twinge to the humiliation of being caught abed with a man by the lady of the manor.

  “How do ye keep sneaking up on people?” asked Gybbon as he hastily checked his clothes to make certain they were not too badly disordered and stood to frown at Jolene as she walked to the side of the bed. “Ye have a true skill for suddenly appearing to make your opinion known.”

  “And it is a skill I do not wish to share with anyone. I get too much pleasure out of stating my opinion. Now, shoo. I have come to help Mora dress for her journey.”

  “I could probably do it myself,” Mora said quietly, trying hard not to laugh at the way Jolene had told Gybbon to “shoo.”

  “Aye, but the less you twist and turn and lift your arms, the better it will be for you on your journey.”

  Gybbon walked to the door and ignored the way Freya trotted in as if he had opened the door just for her. Then he frowned at Jolene’s back. “Did ye just tell me to shoo?”

  Jolene’s lips twitched into a quick, faint smile and then she raised a hand to make a shooing gesture at Gybbon. “Aye, so shoo,” she repeated, then grinned widely when she heard the door shut behind him. “They hate when I do that. Now, are you really all right?”

  “Aye, I really am. It just startled me. Ye had taken out the stitches and removed the bandage. Despite the fact that I had dutifully noted all ye said about being careful, I still just thought that I was healed, so when
there was a sudden small pain, I think it shocked me a bit.”

  “I suspect it did.” Jolene held out a hand. “Best you get dressed now. Time to break your fast.”

  “Oh, I do find myself really hungry,” said Mora as she took Jolene’s hand and let the woman tug her to her feet.

  “That is good. You did not have the fever for long, but it is good if you eat as well as you can for a while.”

  “Thank ye kindly for the use of the shift.”

  “Keep it. I am pleased it served and I fear yours is now gone. I used it for bandages.”

  “That was what I was doing,” said Mora as she unlaced the shift.

  “I will send the last two home with you. I was just thinking it might be a good idea if I put a loose one on you for the journey. ’Twill help keep the area clean and keep the healing salve off your gown.”

  “Are ye giving me some of the salve?”

  “Aye. It will help the wound and I think it also may ease a bit of the scarring that will be left.”

  “I am trying nay to think about scarring.” Mora walked over to the bowl and, grabbing a cloth, gave herself a quick wash. “When do ye think it would be safe to have a bath?”

  Jolene laughed. “You could have one now save I dinnae think you would then have time to break your fast. Have one when you reach Gormfeurach. They are verra efficient at it and have lovely baths to lounge in. ’Tis one of the many improvements Lady Annys has put in and I fully approve of it.”

  “Ye have been there?” After drying herself she accepted the shift Jolene held out for her and pulled it on.

  “Aye. Sigimor likes to keep on good terms with the Murrays. They are a large clan with a lot of allies from the Armstrongs, near the border to England, to Sir Simon Innes, who used to be called the King’s Hound. I swear, there must be dozens between there. E’en if Sigimor didnae like Gybbon and his brothers Harcourt and Brett so much, he would still make certain that alliance stood.”

  “Oh my.” She had just been kissing a very important man.

  As she tugged on her hose and tied the ribbons to hold them up, she had to wonder what her parents would think about a flirtation with such a well-placed man. Her mother would have danced around making plans to bring him to the altar, and her father would worry. He had been happy with just what he was. A younger son with few duties who did not have to bother with allies, alliances, or even hordes of relations that you were expected to keep on your side. Her father had just wanted to raise his family and carve his wood.

  Jolene walked up and held out her gown. “We cleaned and mended it. ‘Tis not too rough now and will suit to riding in a wagon all the way to Gormfuerach.”

  “Ye didnae have to do that. I could have just bundled it into my bag and dealt with it later.”

  “It would have been utterly ruined by then. Getting to the dirt and the blood fast is why it looks as good as it does. It also looks verra comfortable and worth saving.”

  “Aye, ’tis a country woman’s gown. They are nay such slaves to fashion quirks. And they usually have to work in the gown unlike a titled lady. My mither made it for me.”

  “Another good reason to save it.” Jolene helped Mora get dressed.

  “How is Andrew?”

  “He is just fine. He slept in with Fergus and the MacFingal boys. That has left him feeling quite full of himself. Boy thinks he has slept with the men like a warrior would. He still clutches his soldier though.”

  “I would nay be surprised if he always does. His da made it. He did love Da.” She sighed, releasing a little more of the sorrow that clung to her. “I wouldnae be surprised if, when he is a grown mon and I go to see him, his wife, and his bairns, if I ask about the Bruce, he will pull it out.”

  “’Tis a lovely thought. I think he is looking for you, as well.”

  “Then I best get down there to eat.”

  Mora hurriedly put some things in her bag. Her injury had kept her from unpacking much, so it was quick. Then she walked down the stairs with Jolene. The moment she entered the hall, Andrew ran over to her.

  “I was starting to worry about you,” the boy said as he gently hugged her.

  “Why? Gybbon was here.”

  “But Gybbon wasnae hurt.”

  “True, but now I am nearly completely healed, so you can cease worrying about me.”

  She started to make her way to the table, Andrew clutching her hand. Gybbon waved her over and indicated room on the bench for her and Andrew to sit with him. Mora helped Andrew sit next to Gybbon and then she sat next to Andrew. She saw Gybbon look at the boy and then at her, his mouth twitching into a smile briefly.

  “Why is everyone so big?” Andrew asked softly as she served him some porridge and apples.

  “Because they are full grown. Our da was tall.”

  “Aye, that is what Maman said. But ye are full grown, too.”

  “Ah, aye, I am. I took after Maman.” She reached around the boy and pinched Gybbon on the arm when she saw he was laughing.

  “But I am almost as tall as ye are already and I am only seven.”

  “I suspect ye will grow even taller and be bigger than me.”

  “Like David and Niall?”

  “Aye, like David and Niall.”

  “Did Robert kill them, too?” he asked softly, stirring his porridge instead of eating it.

  “I dinnae ken, Andrew.”

  “Eat your porridge, laddie,” said Sigimor in a gentle yet firm voice. “Ye have a long trip ahead of ye. No need to chew over sad things by asking questions no one has an answer for.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I told ye,” said Mora. “We are going to ride to Sir Gybbon’s brother’s keep.”

  “’Tis a fine keep, too,” said Gybbon.

  Mora smiled faintly as Gybbon told Andrew all about Gormfeurach and her brother ate his porridge, even accepting a small added serving. He kept Andrew fascinated with his talk of big gates, high walls, and a dungeon. Mora heard most of it and had to admit she was eager to see it.

  Something bumped her arm and she looked down to see Freya at her side. She scratched her cat’s ears and cut up some of her meat to put it on a small plate for the animal. Mora hoped a three-day journey hidden in the back of a wagon would not cause the animal too much distress. She was not so certain how she would endure it, either.

  As they left the table and collected up what they needed for their journey, Mora felt a touch of sadness. This was her family’s land, where her parents had grown up and where she had spent her whole childhood. She could not help but hope she would be able to return sometimes without worrying about her cousins.

  She stared at the cart Gybbon put her bag in. It would be a crowded ride, but they had so well padded the bed of it that she suspected it would not be too uncomfortable. She and Andrew stayed inside the door as Gybbon and Sigimor told them to and waited.

  The way the man was so carefully making sure they were not seen as they left woke a fear within Mora. It strengthened what she already felt about her cousins by telling her just how hard they were hunting her and Andrew. He had even come up with a clever way to sneak both of them into the cart without much risk of them being seen.

  “My Sigimor is a very careful planner,” said Jolene as she stepped up beside Mora. “Before he even takes a step he has plotted out every one of those steps and all that could go wrong so he can be prepared for that, too.”

  “Oh, I wasnae doubting that. It was just how all of this made it so sharply clear that I am in a fight for Andrew’s life. And my own.”

  Jolene patted her on the back. “A hard thing to look straight in the eye. I was faced with such a dark sight when we fought to keep my nephew alive. And for much the same reasons. Greedy relations.”

  “If David and Niall should come back and come here to ask after us . . .”

  “Oh, Sigimor will ken what to say and tell them how to find you. As well as giving them a fine escort. Do you think they might appear?”


  Mora shrugged. “Who can say? They were going to meet up with some friends who had gone to France for the same reason, so I can only hope they had others on their side if Robert went after them there. Since I have heard naught from them, any of them, and I ken little about France and its wars, I simply cannae say.”

  “And so, a tiny spark of hope flares now and then. Aye, I would not wish to believe the worst without proof, good hard proof, even if it would make me sad beyond words. But, not to fret, if they do happen to come and speak to Sigimor, or if he e’en hears word that they have returned, he will take care of them if it is needed.”

  Jolene looked closely at Mora. “You have not really taken time to grieve for your parents, have you?”

  “A bit, but there is Andrew to worry o’er. He grieves and is afraid and I have to appear strong. Da adored him and was teaching him about the wood and how to see what could be made in it, what it wanted to be made into. Andrew actually understood what he was talking about. I see a lump of wood as nothing more than something ye put on the fire.” She smiled when Jolene laughed. “My older brothers were much like I am. I think David understood what Da was talking about but simply could not see it as he did.”

  “Did the laird get sick long before your da died?”

  “Nay, ’twas shortly after. ’Tis why I have nay seen much of him. I would go with my mother, but he was rambling and near senseless each time we went. Then my parents were killed. And, aye, I think that was all planned out that way.”

  “I think so, too, and so does Sigimor. We just say Robert is mad, and he most certainly is, but he can plan carefully and that makes him even more dangerous. And you are mucking about with his plan. Sad to say, even if he believed Andrew was no longer a problem, Robert would still come after you.”

  “The day he burst into our home and tried to kill me, I could see that. He was furious and then in pain, but the hate still gleamed in his eyes.”

  “Men do hate it when women muck about with their plans.”

  “As they should,” said Sigimor as he kissed his wife on the cheek. “Especially if it is a good plan.”

  Mora laughed when Jolene just rolled her eyes as she slid her arm around Sigimor’s waist. As she watched them she realized no one would have ever tried to match them. They would have looked at the small, somewhat delicate, raven-haired Englishwoman and the big, rough-mannered, and red-haired Scot and never thought of them as the perfect pair, and yet they were.