Highland Sinner

by Hannah Howell

  “What was the betrayal?” she felt compelled to ask.

  “Weel, the fool was to kill the boy and leave him at Tormand’s door. I had written a verra eloquent note to tell Tormand that his son lost his life because of Tormand’s own sins. I felt sure that would hurt the fool. He may be a cruel bastard to women, caring nothing for them except for bedding them, but I kenned that he loved the bairns. But, nay, the mon ruined my idea and it was a good one. ’Tis unfair that I must always be surrounded by fools, save my wonderful Small who has never let me down.”

  “Enough, m’lady,” the man said in his deep rumbling voice. “It is time for us to leave this place.”

  “Oh, those fools willnae be back any time soon. The witch wishes to ken a few things ere she dies. ’Tis only courteous to tell her what she needs to know.” She reached up to pat his chest. “We will leave soon, Small. I ken that ye are eager to make the witch pay for our injuries.” Ada looked at Morainn and smiled. “Old Ide healed our injuries verra nicely and I discovered that she hates ye. That is what I used to make her help us. She truly thinks ye are the one behind all these murders, although I think she just convinces herself of that so that she may get ye hanged. She wants ye dead, witch. The old fool was willing to do anything we wanted just so that would happen.”

  A woman who killed people over imagined slights mocking another woman who imagined an enemy where there was none? A woman who wanted to kill an innocent child just to hurt someone and then killed the person who could not bring himself to obey her order finding Ide’s need to kill a rival something to disdain? Morainn felt all that was as great a proof of the woman’s insanity as anything. She also should not be so surprised that Old Ide would do anything to see her dead, for she had done the same with Morainn’s mother. It was beginning to look as though the woman would be victorious again.

  Small moved to reach out and grab Morainn. She took one step back, frantically wondering where she could go and how she could take Walin with her, when Bonegnasher suddenly leapt in to help her. Small howled when the dog latched onto his arm. Morainn started to run toward Walin only to be leapt on by Ada. The woman acted very much like William had when the cat had leapt on Ada. It took all of Morainn’s attention just to save her eyes from the woman’s long nails.

  A yelp caught her attention. As Morainn turned, intending to slam the slightly smaller woman against the wall, she caught a brief look at Bonegnasher lying limply against the wall a few feet away. When she finally managed to slam the woman against the wall, Ada screeched so loud Morainn’s ears started to hurt. A high cry of anger came from Morainn’s right as she shook free of the dazed woman’s hold and Morainn saw Walin racing over to Small. She cried out in alarm and moved toward Walin to stop him. Small swung out with his arm, the blood dripping from it making a gruesome arc, as he hit Walin.

  Morainn watched in horror as Walin’s little body seemed to fly through the air. He landed on the bed, but before a sense of relief had even begun to grow in her, Walin bounced a few times and fell off the other side with a sickening thump. She started to go to him only to be yanked to a halt by Small’s thick, calloused hand grabbing her by the arm. He twisted it up behind her back until even breathing caused her a searing pain in her arm. Morainn watched as Ada shook herself and then walked over to glare at her.

  “I will so enjoy killing ye, witch,” Ada said.

  “M’lady, we really should get out of here,” Small said. “The men could be back and they might be able to stop ye from getting what ye want.”

  “As ye wish.” Ada started toward the door.

  “Walin,” Morainn said, wanting to ask if she could see to the boy and yet knowing there would be no mercy shown by either of these people.

  “Ye come along quietly and I willnae have Small come back and cut the lad’s throat.”

  There was no other choice but to nod and allow herself to be dragged along by Small as the man and his mistress discussed the best way to get to whatever hovel they planned to kill her in. As Small started to pull her out of the room she called back to Walin, “I love ye, Walin. Tell Tormand that I will ne’er stop dreaming of him.”

  Small slapped her on the side of the head so hard, her ears rang and Morainn began to pray as she was dragged away. She prayed that Walin had not been badly hurt. She also prayed that Tormand and the others would return soon so that they could help the boy. She prayed her lover would understand the message she had been sending him and also prayed that little Walin had been conscious enough to hear it. They stepped outside into a sunny day and she prayed that it would not rain so that there might be a trail the men could follow to come to save her. She then began to pray for herself as Small threw her over his saddle, knocking all the breath from her body.

  “Who is Geordie?” Tormand asked Simon.

  Tormand needed to talk; he needed to be distracted so that he could stop thinking of what might be happening to Morainn. Everything within him was screaming that he had to get to her, yet there he stood while the horses were watered and allowed to cool down a bit. He knew the stop in his mad race back to the tower house was a necessary one. It would help no one if the horses were injured or killed because they had been pushed too hard. He knew he needed his horse because he could not run or fly to the tower house. That did not make standing there while Morainn was in danger any easier to bear.

  “He was my father’s second,” replied Simon.

  “Second? Ye are the son of a laird then, are ye?” Tormand decided he must look as crazed with worry as he felt, for Simon never spoke of his past or his family, except in the most vague terms, and was obviously doing so now just to distract him.

  “Second son. My older brother Henry is the laird now. Geordie left shortly after I did. My three younger brothers are,” Simon paused and then shrugged, “somewhere. My two sisters were married off shortly after their first flux, but they seem to have fared weel enough. I e’en hear from them now and then. Henry is a mon ye dinnae wish to linger with. Brutal, especially with women. I ken at least two he probably killed with his affections. I believe he killed our father, too, and some day I will prove it.”

  “Jesu, Simon,” Tormand muttered, sure he looked as shocked as his kinsmen did. “’Tis nay wonder that ye never speak of your kin.”

  Simon smiled faintly. “Old memories. I havenae been back there since I was ten years old. I went to visit the family at Michaelmas that year. I should have stayed with the family that was fostering me as they had asked me to. When I returned to them after the visit, the only time I left them after that and went home was to see my father buried three years later.”

  “And ye really think Henry killed the mon?” asked Harcourt.

  “I am as sure as I can be of anything that is recalled from a time when I was more boy than mon. I think the fact that Henry has blood on his hands, our father’s and that of several women, is why I work so hard to punish those who break our laws, nay matter if they are the ones of the church or the king. I suspicion Henry hasnae changed much over the years since I last saw him. When Geordie found me one day he told me why he had left the only home he had ever kenned. Henry grew more obviously brutal once my father’s restraining hand was off the reins. Geordie refused to make his oath to a mon like Henry and so he left.”

  “He is a good mon,” Simon said, as he looked around at the Murrays and Walter. “He had no part in this.”

  “I ken it,” said Tormand. “’Twas that bitch Old Ide. She deserves a far harsher punishment than being scared nigh unto death by ye. I just cannae think of what that might be, seeing as ye promised Old Geordie that ye wouldnae hang her.”

  “I did, didnae I?” Simon smiled faintly. “I didnae, however, promise nay to punish her in some way. Ye see, Ide has good reason to fear that Morainn will take her place as midwife and healer here. Ide is nay verra good at her craft. In truth, she has killed a few people with her clumsy, ignorant methods, and, I believe, her utter disdain for the healing that can be done with a good
use of soap and water.”

  “Are ye going to try and have her charged with the murder of those people?”

  “Nay, for that will get her hanged and I promised Geordie I wouldnae do that, didnae I? That doesnae mean that I cannae make verra certain that, slowly, whisper by whisper, it becomes verra clear to a lot of people that ye will be risking life and limb if ye call upon Old Ide to come and heal ye or bring your bairn into this world.”

  Tormand shook his head in admiration. “Sneaky. I like it.” He could not stop himself from glancing in the direction of the tower house again.

  “The horses have rested enough,” Simon said and immediately mounted his. “A steady, even pace and we will be there soon.”

  Simon had barely finished speaking before Tormand was in the saddle and riding toward the tower house. He felt such a need to reach Morainn that it was hard to follow Simon’s advice about keeping a steady, even gait. He ached to spur his horse into a gallop, demanding that the beast go as fast as it could. Every instinct he had told him that they would be too late, that the trap Ide had helped set for Morainn had already closed around his love.

  His love. The words hit Tormand so hard he nearly fell out of the saddle. He loved Morainn. It was so clear to him now that the words had entered his head. They had been in his heart from the moment he had first seen her, first looked into her beautiful sea-blue eyes. Tormand had to wonder why he had fought against it so hard, especially since he knew he did not want to return to his heedless bouncing from bed to bed, being intimate with women he quickly forgot. He wanted Morainn and only Morainn.

  Then Tormand thought of his past and of the list Morainn had seen, a list that made it very clear what sort of life he had led before meeting her. He just prayed he would have the chance to tell her that.

  Chapter 17

  Tormand slowed his rush to find Morainn the moment he saw the open door to the room they had shared. This time he forced himself to go forward, fighting the cold fear that gripped him and tried to hold him in place. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when he saw no sign of a body or even much blood. He did see a few signs of a struggle, from the knocked over table and the disordered rushes on the floor to a little blood near the door that he quickly looked away from, refusing to allow the sight to stir his fear for Morainn into a useless panic.

  A soft moan had him rushing to the far side of the bed, where he found Walin struggling to sit up, blood trailing down his pale cheek from a cut on his head. He could not understand how or why the boy was here as he bent to help Walin up. The others joined him and he soon had Walin bandaged and sitting in a chair sipping at a small tankard of cider.

  Simon was crouched by his slowly rousing dog. Tormand could not hear what the man was saying, but the tone of Simon’s voice told him the man was trying to coax the dog into getting up. Seeing how pale and shaken the boy was, Tormand put aside the gnawing need to rush out and hunt for Morainn.

  “Lad,” asked Simon, as he stepped up next to Tormand, “how did ye and Bonegnasher come to be here?”

  “I wanted to see Morainn,” the boy replied, as tears slowly trickled down his cheeks. “I missed her and no one would let me go to visit her e’en for just a wee while.”

  “What happened here, Walin?”

  “Those bad people came here just like they came to our cottage,” Walin said, crying so hard that his voice cracked and shook, making what he said a little difficult to understand. “The woman said a lot of awful things and then the mon said they had to leave so they werenae caught here when all of ye returned. He tried to grab Morainn, but Bonegnasher leapt over and bit him on the arm.” Walin looked at the dog that sat by Simon’s side, leaning up against the man as though it was still a little stunned.

  “Calm yourself, lad,” Tormand said gently. “We need ye to speak more clearly and tell us what happened step by step.”

  “When ye left, I let Bonegnasher free and followed ye. Morainn gave me a verra long lecture. I just wanted to see her. We had something to eat and then the bad people came and the woman and Morainn talked about a lot of things and then when the mon reached for Morainn, Bonegnasher leapt right up and bit the mon on the arm. He threw the dog against the wall just like he did to William, and then I tried to fight him but he threw me, too. Is Bonegnasher going to be all right?”

  “Aye.” Simon scratched the dog’s ears. “I think ye will be too. That means we only have to find Morainn and bring her back.”

  “They are going to hurt her and kill her,” Walin said. “That lady talked about killing people, and she kens about me and who I am and was even going to kill me once but the mon she told to do it couldnae and he left me with Morainn and then she killed him.” He looked at Tormand. “And she said ye are my father and some woman named Margaret Macauley was my mother and she was sent to the nunnery where this woman was and the bitch killed my mother and tried to tell her parents that I was her bairn so they would make ye marry her.” Walin looked around at all the men. “I think she killed them too. Ye have to get Morainn away from them.”

  Tormand felt as if he was going to swoon like some lack-witted maiden as what Walin said began to sink into his mind. He staggered back a little and Harcourt caught him by the arm to steady him. It was not that Walin said he was his son that caused the most shock; it was how many times the boy had nearly been killed just because of one madwoman’s jealousy. He could have lost his child before he had even learned of his existence.

  “I can see it clear now,” murmured Harcourt. “It explains why he always made me think I should ken who he is.”

  “Curse it, I cannae think on this now.”

  “Nay,” agreed a tearful Walin. “Ye have to go and get my Morainn back. Ye cannae let that bad woman hurt her.”

  Forcing aside all thought on the chance that a madwoman had actually been telling the truth and Walin was his son, Tormand nodded. “That is what is important now. Do ye ken where they went? Did ye hear anything at all that may help us reach her faster?”

  “Nay,” Walin said in a small voice. “I was lying there feeling as if I couldnae breathe, ye ken, because I bounced off the bed and landed verra hard on the floor. Morainn told me she loved me as they took her away. Oh, and she said I should tell ye that she will always dream of ye. I dinnae ken why she said that. Why didnae she just say she loved ye, too? Or e’en ask ye to take care of me or the like?”

  “Because she was telling me where they were taking her,” Tormand said quietly, hope surging in his chest as he crouched down so that he was eye to eye with the boy. “Think verra hard, laddie. Did they say anything about how long they might have to travel or which direction they were going in?”

  “Nay, but, if Bonegnasher isnae too badly hurt, ye could have him show ye the way. He bit the giant and the mon was bleeding like a stuck pig.” Walin frowned. “The mon did say that they shouldnae be out when it was so light as they might be seen, and if they didnae hurry they wouldnae e’en have the morning mists to hide them as they rode, for they would be burned away by the sun in an hour.”

  “Bonegnasher is good for a hunt,” said Simon.

  Uilliam stepped up and lightly brushed his hand over Walin’s curls. “I will take the lad back to your home, Tormand, and we will wait there for ye to bring Morainn back.”

  Walter also stepped up and said, “I will go with them to watch his back unless ye think ye will need me.”

  Tormand nodded and stood up. ”Nay, we face only two people and I would feel better kenning that Uilliam and Walin have someone like ye to watch their backs.” He looked down at Walin and then lightly stroked the boy’s tearstained cheek. “We will talk later when we have our Morainn safe at home. Aye?”

  “Aye.”

  As Tormand and the others hurried out to where their horses waited, he glanced at the dog and was pleased to see that the animal seemed to be fully recovered. The dog caught the scent quickly and ran around in circles as he waited for the men to mount their horses. It should be an easy trai
l for Bonegnasher to follow, thought Tormand, as he looked at the blood on the ground. This time there would be no Ide to clean and stitch the bastard’s wound.

  As they rode, following the dog, Tormand fought his mounting fear for Morainn by thinking of Walin. It was true that, once a relationship was claimed, it was easy to see himself in the boy, but he could not trust only his eyes in such an important matter. Neither did he think it was wise to trust completely in what a scared little boy thought he had heard. The only thing that kept him from immediately denying the possibility that Walin was his son was that he already began to recall a Margaret Macauley and her big blue eyes, eyes just like Walin’s. He struggled to pull up every memory of the woman as they rode and found it easier now that he recalled her eyes.

  “Do ye remember bedding a woman named Margaret Macauley?” asked Simon, as they slowed for a minute so that Bonegnasher could sniff around to make sure he found the trail they all wanted him to.

  “Aye, and the time is right. I spent a week with the lass about seven years ago. I remember that she always thought it amusing how easily she could creep out of her house. One night she e’en had me sneak in, as she wished to make love in her own bed with her parents asleep down the hall.” He grimaced. “I left her soon after that for, with a few ales in me, I had thought it funny at the time, but nay when I was sober again. She also had that glint in her eye.”

  “What glint?”

  “The one that says she is trying to think of ways to drag me before the altar. There he goes,” he cried when, with a soft yip, Bonegnasher bounded off again.

  Tormand put all thoughts of Margaret and blue-eyed sons out of his head and started to plan the many ways he was going to kill the bastards that had taken his Morainn. He used those bloodthirsty thoughts to keep himself from thinking on all the ways they could be hurting Morainn even now. Having seen what these people did to the women they caught, he knew he would become as mad as they were if he allowed such thoughts to prey upon his mind. He kept one thought and one thought only in the fore of his mind—he would find Morainn and he would slaughter the ones who had taken her away from him.