Highland Devil

by Hannah Howell

  As quietly as he could, he washed and dressed, then crept out of the room. It did not surprise him to find Harcourt waiting for him in the hall. His brother looked amused, not angry, so he relaxed. He knew he could relax more if he did not have the suspicion that Harcourt knew something he did not.

  “Ye are up early,” he said, as they started to make their way down to the hall.

  “Young ones. They have no understanding of the joys of lying about in bed with one’s wife,” Harcourt bemoaned.

  “And by the time they reach your age, ye will probably be too old and bent to have that enjoyment anyway.”

  “Nay, I intend to remain strong and virile right up to the last day.”

  Gybbon laughed. If anyone could, it would be Harcourt. He would do it just out of stubbornness. “So, what is to be done today?”

  “I thought we might go have a look at that bit of land ye said ye would want if ye came to live here.”

  With the thrill of the pleasure he had enjoyed last night still humming in his veins, Gybbon did not shy away from any talk of settling in one place as he might have done a week ago. “Sounds like a good idea.”

  * * *

  Mora was surprised when she woke up to a bedchamber filled with sunlight. She could not see any sign of Gybbon; she looked over the side of the bed and saw his clothes were gone. No surprise, she thought, as it was late in the morning. Mary must have stopped in, as well, for her clothes were tidily laid out over the back of a chair.

  Slipping out of bed, Mora ran to the chair and pulled on her shift. It felt odd to wake up without him, which she found strange. She had only been in bed with him twice. Perhaps that was what lovers did, she thought, then blushed when Mary peeked in and immediately hurried over to help her dress and do her hair.

  As she worked with Mary, Mora tried to recall all her mother had told her about the matter of men and women. Rona had spoken of honor but only briefly. Her mother had spoken more about feelings, about love, and how it was wrong to waste such a gift on a man with no honor. At the time she had wondered if her mother had suffered at the hands of such a man. She knew Gybbon was not unworthy even though she had no idea if he cared for her in any way.

  She shook away such thoughts. It was too much thinking. She would make herself dizzy. She and Gybbon were lovers and that alone made her happy. Mora promised herself she would not ruin the good of that by thinking it to death or worrying needlessly about something she could not change.

  Settled in her mind for the moment, she thanked Mary for her help and headed down to the hall. She realized that she was very hungry. When she walked into the hall and saw little Freya next to Gybbon helping herself to bits of meat, she smiled. Things were fine right now and she would not disturb the harmony with deep or dark thoughts. There was enough in her life to make her sad, so for now she would hold tight to what made her happy.

  * * *

  “Are they gone?” asked Niall as he pulled on his boots.

  “Aye, just riding off now,” said David as he watched Robert lead the others away. “If I judge it correct they are riding back to the Ogilvy keep. Surprised they are up and about so early.”

  “So, we will be able to go and see what may have happened to Aunt Maggie.”

  “Aye, after we eat,” David said when there was a rap at their door.

  The maid brought in full plates of food, and both brothers made quick work of it. After clearing his plate, David sat back in his chair and sipped at his ale. He finally felt some pleasure at being back in Scotland, but it was dimmed with the news he believed they would soon be given.

  When the meal was done and cleared away and the maid given a coin, he went down and took care of their bill. Niall joined him just as he gave the call for their horses to be brought round. When they went outside, David looked down the road and sighed.

  “Dinnae need to ride there,” David said, and caught up his mount’s reins.

  “Nay, and it might be good to walk a bit after such a large meal.”

  “It cannae hurt.”

  He walked toward the burnt hulk that was all that was left of Aunt Maggie’s home. David could think of no one who would want to hurt the woman. If it was Robert there was a reason he had gone hunting for Aunt Maggie and all David could think of was that young Andrew or Mora had been here with her.

  For a while they stood in front of her house and just stared. Neither of them felt inclined to go poking around in the charred mess left behind. He heard a door open and glanced around until he spotted Morag Sinclair on her step, wearing only her night shift and a large shawl, gaping at them. Just as he was about to greet her and apologize for waking her so early, she ran up to him and hugged him, then hugged Niall.

  “Take your horses round the back and I will let ye in that way. There is a lot I have to tell ye. But get out of sight. The sheriff occasionally takes a verra early morning walk to make himself look as if he is doing important business.”

  When they were seated and she had served them some cool cider, Morag began to tell them everything that she knew as gently as possible. She comforted them when she gave them the hard news about their parents, promising to show them the graves as soon as it was safe again.

  “Go see Laird Sigimor. He will lay it all out better than I can. He and that Murray lad were dealing with getting Mora and Andrew someplace safe. If naught else, he will ken where they are.”

  They went to their horses and started toward Sigimor’s keep, but a mile or two down the road, David stopped. He looked and saw Niall right beside him, his head down. “I am sad that my bad feelings proved all too true.”

  “Nay sadder than I am. We shouldnae have left. If we had been here . . .”

  “We would have been the first ones killed. We could fight, so it would have made us the first target. What we can do,” he said, and his voice hardened, “is kill Robert. Mayhap his brothers.”

  “Why only mayhap?”

  “I am nay sure, but something tells me they have been dragged into this mess, and while they dinnae dare stop him, they have nay helped him.”

  “Then they shouldnae die. But Robert . . .”

  “Robert is dead, and the harder we make that death for him, the better. Now we go speak to Sigimor and find out what has happened to Mora and Andrew.”

  “And see if we can find out who the devil this Murray lad taking care of Mora is.”

  David grunted in the affirmative.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mora had watched carefully as the men had ridden off. They had all been going to see Nigel at Glencullaich. They thought they would be gone for two to three days. Once she had heard that, she had stopped listening closely. All she could think of was that she could slip away to talk to her uncle. If she was very lucky she would be back before they would, with all her troubles solved. Her hope was not high for that, but she had to try.

  As she made her way back to her bedchamber, she wondered if she was being too reckless. She had waited one day to make certain they had gotten there so she would not meet them on the road, and to think of what she needed for such a journey. She had only been recovered from her last fever for a week and Gybbon had made it clear he thought she needed longer. She also knew he would insist she not go or only go with a troop of men at her side.

  Slipping into her bedchamber, she fought a strong sense of guilt as she collected up what she thought she would need and put the items in a small sack before grabbing her cloak. She stopped by the bed to stroke her cat. It would be the first time she had ever left her pet alone since she had held that soaking wet, too small kitten down by the burn, but she knew she was leaving her with good people and Andrew would love her.

  “I cannae take ye with me this time, Freya. If Robert sees ye, he will kill ye.”

  Even though she told herself she was being silly, tears stung her eyes, so she dashed quickly to the door and hastily shut it behind her. She heard a soft, scratchy yowl and saw a little gray paw sticking out under the door. Resis
ting the strong urge to take her pet with her, Mora turned and hurried down the stairs.

  Getting to the stable proved to be easy. She walked there with no more interest from others than an occasional greeting. There was only one man inside the stable and he hurried to saddle the mare she had been practicing her riding on before she even asked him to. She patted the horse, hooked her sack onto the saddle, and then mounted.

  “Ye sure ye are ready to be riding all by yourself?” the man asked.

  “Aye.” She frowned. “Nay. I dinnae ken. I have to try at some time though, dinnae I?”

  “Aye, ye do. Good luck, lass. Where is your wee cat?”

  “I thought I would leave her in my room until I am certain I can ride around by myself.”

  “She isnae going to like that.”

  Mora laughed, but it was not really funny. No, Freya was not going to like it at all. All Mora could do was get as far away as possible before her cat made enough fuss to rouse everyone, who would then wonder where she was. If she got out of this alive it was going to be a long time before Freya forgave her, she thought as she rode out through the gates.

  As she rode along, she took out the scrap of paper she had written all the directions she had gotten. It had been a long, slow process to gather the information she needed, and the need to be secretive had worn on her. The slow process of getting a little piece of information from each one she had a talk with had also been irritating, but she had finally gotten enough.

  Mora wondered why the men had not heartily complained or even mutinied when they had been made to take such a long, winding route home while toting her, Andrew, and a cat in a cart pulled by sturdy ponies. If they had gone the straight route they could have done it in a day, as Geordie had said. She had not realized her family had lived so near to so many clans.

  In the hope of remaining unseen, she kept off to the side of the path, using the trees and shadows to hide her. She could only pray no one from Glencullaich or Dubheidland was out for a ride. As she passed by a lot of open land on the other side of the small, rutted road, she wondered if that was the land Harcourt and Gybbon had discussed. It was beautiful and a nice manor would look equally as beautiful set in there. If she got back to Glenfeurach she would have to tell Gybbon.

  Nibbling on a cake, she decided riding slowly along was enjoyable. Avoiding a cairn that she suspected was a boundary marker, she noted that she was coming to a building site. Not seeing anything to indicate any of the workers were around, she trotted by. What little was there suggested someone was having a small church built. She grinned; putting one of them between two large keeps and a short ride to two others told her someone hoped to tempt some of the guard to attend services. It was the only explanation for why it was not being built in the village, the more usual choice for a church.

  It was growing late, the light failing by the time she reached the trail she needed to follow. She was not surprised Geordie had known exactly how to reach the Ogilvy keep as the men had done a lot of complaining about the habit of theft the clan had suddenly developed. It appeared Robert was already taking control, and Mora worried about how ill her uncle had grown. She wondered if she should go back home, then gritted her teeth and turned down the trail by the cairn and the crooked rowan tree.

  For just a moment, she wished her brothers were with her. She could almost see the three of them riding up to the keep, perhaps with a small force of Murrays and Camerons behind them. It was a splendid thought, but she shook it away. She fixed her eyes on the large stone keep in the distance and rode determinedly toward it, knowing that her only shield was that she was a woman and the laird’s niece.

  When she reached the keep the gates were wide open, which struck her as odd for they should be shutting them at this late time of the day. As she rode through them, a man ran up to take her reins, then held out his hand to assist her in dismounting. She was glad of the aid when she was finally standing on the ground for it took a moment for her legs to cooperate. Looking at the man, she suddenly recognized him and smiled.

  “Greetings, Manus,” she said, wondering at his dark frown and noticing how he kept casting worried looks at the other men. “Something wrong? Is the laird worse?”

  “Nay, lass. He isnae hale but he is awake and can move about with aid. Laird Cameron’s English wife came to tend him and he has improved every day since then.” He handed her horse over to a stable boy.

  “Oh, good. I have come to speak to him.”

  He sighed. “This isnae a safe place for ye now, lass. Half the fools here believe ye killed Old William and have been poisoning the laird. About all they dinnae believe is that ye stole Robert’s sword. Fool still has it.”

  “Do ye believe it?”

  Manus leaned closer. “Nary a word but things are wrong here, lass. ’Tis a bad time for ye to come for a visit.”

  “I have to. I have to make Uncle listen to me. Andrew and I are all that is left.”

  “All? Ye had twa other brothers.”

  “They went to France to fight for coin.” She ignored Manus’s swearing. “We havenae had a word of their fate in about three years. Robert strongly implied he kenned they would ne’er be coming home.”

  “Ye talked to Robert and still live?”

  “Weel, I ran and got Andrew away. We are now with the Murrays. Laird Cameron helped us, too.” Mora was not sure why that news was making him more nervous. “I have to talk to the laird. Nay, to my uncle. I have to get him to see what is happening.”

  “I will let ye talk to him. Just hope I can get ye out safely,” he muttered.

  She had to move fast to keep up with his long strides. He marched to the keep all the while keeping his men back with a fierce look or a flick of his hand. Mora did not understand why all the men glared at her. How could they believe Robert? How could they believe she had done the things Robert tried to blame on her?

  They went into the hall and she saw her uncle. He sat at the head of the table and looked old and haggard. The poison had drained him of vigor. She prayed it had not also drained him of sense.

  “What is she doing here?” her uncle bellowed, then fell into a fit of coughing. “Lock her up,” he demanded when he stopped.

  Manus released her but stayed close when she moved to hurry to her uncle. When the man looked at her, she hastily stepped back. There was such fury and hatred in his eyes she felt stung by it. This was definitely not going to go as she had hoped, and suddenly she wished with all her heart that she was back at Gormfeurach with Gybbon.

  “I have come to plead my innocence of all the sins your son tries to blame me for. To tell ye the truth of what has been happening.”

  “Have ye—or have ye come to make sure there is enough left to finish me with your foul poison?”

  “How would I have gotten in to do that? To do anything to poison you? Have your men seen me about the place? Have the women or lassies in the kitchens e’er seen me in there? Have ye e’en asked? How did I do it?”

  “Old William kenned it, which is why ye killed him.”

  “With Robert’s sword. Aye, he told me at the same time he told me he had the blood of my parents on his hands.”

  “David and Rona are dead?”

  “Aye, Robert killed them as they came home from market. No one told ye?”

  “Robert probably felt I was too weak for such sad news.”

  Mora doubted that. If Robert had thought it would take his father off sooner than the poison he would have told him immediately. The man did look sad though, so she held her tongue.

  “And then ye came and killed William with Robert’s sword. Did ye think he had done it?”

  “Nay, not him but Robert. And why does he still have the sword if I stole it?”

  “Ye dropped it as ye ran.”

  “Ran from where?”

  “From the ledger room where ye killed Old William!”

  “The room just down the hall? And I ran down this hall yet no one saw me? None heard me drop the sw
ord on the stone? Ye truly think”—she held up her arm—“that this wee bird arm could pick up a mon’s sword and use it with enough strength and skill to kill Old William?” She saw a glimpse of sadness and confusion on his face, but then his expression quickly returned to one of anger.

  “Manus, why havenae ye put this lass in the dungeon?”

  “Uncle! Listen to me. Think on what I say!” She felt Manus grasp her arm and her heart sank.

  “Nay! Ye will just lie. Like your mother! I told David nay to wed her but he wouldnae listen to me. Married the ruined wench and turned his back on me. Fool. Now he is dead, too. Get her out of here, Manus. Get her out.”

  “Come along, lass.” Manus tugged her out of the hall, but she noticed the men in the hall would not look at her. She decided they were beginning to see the truth, see at least some of the game Robert was playing. There was also something about her mother and father’s past that was causing her further trouble, because it still gnawed at the sick laird.

  A plump woman ran up to walk on her other side as Manus led Mora down to the dungeon. She wondered what Hilda, Manus’s wife, wanted, and then the woman said, “Manus, ye cannae do this.”

  “I have to do it and I am going to. And ye are going to see that she has everything she needs.” Manus looked at Mora. “I am sorry, lass, but I am nay going to die for ye and that is just what I will do if I dinnae lock ye up.”

  “’Tis all right, Manus. I would ne’er ask it of ye. He is mad, isnae he?”

  “A wee bit, I am thinking. Gets lost in bad memories, too. He willnae face the truth about Robert. Ne’er has.”

  “Ye think he already kens the truth?”

  “Oh, aye,” said Hilda, “but what mon wishes to face the fact that his firstborn son is naught but a killer and a brute or is the verra one trying to kill him? I worry for the other lads now that their da is sunk in his own misery.”

  “Do ye think Robert would kill them? What would it gain him?”

  “Nary a thing, but I wouldnae be surprised if he plans to kill young Murdoch. Soon after his da goes, too, so he can toss them into the same hole. He was always jealous of the boy because his da kept him close. Mon still had all his wits about him and kenned Robert would harm the child.”