Morrigan dabbed her hanky in cool wine and wiped Maud’s forehead. “I think it was you that worried her, Hugh.”
“Why?”
Kieran glanced away from his mother for a moment. “Runners came from the king telling us you were killed.”
“What? How could that be? No one knew I was ill but the clan. And none thought me dying.”
Kieran shrugged. “I could wish that such a message had never been sent. It devastated my mother.”
“I’m so sorry,” Morrigan said, looking up, feeling confused. “I don’t know how that happened, or how such a rumor spread to the king’s runners. If I had known such a thing was happening, I would’ve stopped such gossip.” Her glance slipped to Hugh and back again. “You see I was closeted with him all through the first night. In the days following his affliction he needed constant care. I never even thought to send messages.” Contrite, Morrigan looked back at the quivering Lady MacKenzie, whose eyes had fluttered open. “Lie still, dear lady. Soon you’ll be put to rights.”
Kieran nodded. “I understand. No doubt ’twas one of the handmaidens who sent word.”
Morrigan inhaled, her voice shaking. “ ’Twas a terrible time. Sometimes I didn’t think I would save him.”
“I beg pardon. ’Tis not like me to swoon. I couldn’t credit my joy at seeing Hugh…” Tears welled in Maud’s eyes.
“Shhh. All is well,” Morrigan comforted.
Hugh watched her, then his gaze went to Maud. “Morrigan is right. Be at ease.” Questions left his mind when he noted the haunted, pain-filled look on her face. Maud had been through plenty. Her husband had expired early, his treasures scattered among various lenders. There would’ve been even less than the castle they had and the small holding if Ermuth hadn’t expired in his bed from overeating. None of the MacKenzies had ever been too stable. Ermuth had taken it another step and wagered on anything that moved until he’d depleted his inheritance beyond repair. Now she’d received another blow. She’d thought him dead. Then he appeared in front of her. “Don’t fret yourself, Maud. All will be well.”
“Thank you, Hugh. Your wife is a most caring female.”
“She is, indeed.” His heart swelled in his chest as he looked at Morrigan. “To be sure she is an excellent purveyor of medicaments. My life would’ve been forfeit had she not been so knowledgeable. You are in good care, Maud. All the MacKays trust Morrigan.”
Morrigan’s smile was fleeting. “Some do.” She looked down at Lady MacKenzie, gratified to see color in her face, the glazed look gone from her expression. “I will order a special tea for you, milady, if you please.”
“Thank you. A restorative would be kind.”
Morrigan nodded and turned when she saw Dilla hovering in the doorway. She made her request and the other woman answered.
“I will get what you need, milady.”
“Thank you.” She turned back and saw Kieran smiling. “What?”
“You trust your new family, I see.”
Hugh said nothing, his arms crossed in front of him.
Morrigan’s gaze skated off him and back to Kieran. “They are MacKays, and therefore to be trusted.” She felt Hugh’s warm glance. When Kieran laughed she smiled.
“You’ve indoctrinated her, Hugh,” he said, grinning, his relief at his mother’s smile obvious.
“Nay! She saw the light herself.”
Maud chuckled, trying to sit upright.
“I think you should stay still, Mother,” Kieran warned.
“I shall. Ah, here’s your woman with the mixtures.”
Morrigan smiled. “Thank you, Dilla.” She took the small cloth bags from her, going to the fireplace. She spooned small measures into the kettle that steamed between Dilla and herself.
Pouring some into a cup, she carried it over to Lady MacKenzie, holding it while the other woman sipped. When Maud sat back, Dilla came forward and pushed a stool in front of Lady MacKenzie’s chair. Then she placed the steaming kettle, some cloths, and a plate of tiny scones on a small stool.
Lady MacKenzie smiled, lifting her cup again and sipping. “This is a delicious brew, Morrigan. You must tell me how ’Tis fashioned.”
“ ’Tis a mix of teas, milady, from far-off lands, plus a good share of sassafras to keep the body balanced.”
Maud nodded. “I know the worth of such mixes.”
When Dilla turned to go, Morrigan followed her. She felt Hugh’s stare though she didn’t look at him. “Dilla, did someone send messages about the laird’s illness?”
Dilla frowned. “I’m not sure. I know there was consternation among the people. Even if nothing was sent abroad, the word went out, far and wide, to be sure. Some thought he was lost to us.” Her glance went past Morrigan to her laird. “Woe to us if we lose him. So many covet the treasures of Morgan.” She looked back at Morrigan. “You saved him for us. The debt can never be repaid, milady.”
“Thank you.” She touched Dilla’s arm. “I could wish that no such message had been sent to Kieran’s parent. She was most distraught.”
“That she was.”
Morrigan wanted to ask Dilla more, but in deference to her guests she couldn’t linger.
Dilla smiled. “We love him, as you do milady.” She turned and hurried back to her kitchen.
Morrigan was frozen to the floor, knowing full well her mouth had dropped, her heart had stopped. Did all the MacKays know? No! How could it be? She was Welsh. She hid her feelings well. She sighed. Of course it was foolish to love a wild Scot. Too late—
“What ails, my love?” Hugh said, coming up behind her, his mouth in her hair.
“Ah, nothing. I was listening to Dilla.”
He leaned down and caught her lower lip between his teeth, his body hiding her from the MacKenzies. “I would have you give me the same engrossing attention, love.”
EIGHT
It has been related that dogs drink at the riverNile running along, that they may not be seized
by the crocodiles.
Phaedrus
Edward Baliol was cross. No! He was damn well furious, though he struggled to hide it. Years of warfare when he hadn’t known foe from friend had taught him to school his features, give no thoughts away. Right now it took every facet of his being to keep him from screaming the castle down, calling out his army to smite those who would gainsay him.
He’d waited a sennight for his most prestigious and powerful lord, a man reputed to have larger coffers than his own. Not that he would ever know for sure. The MacKays were a canny bunch who kept many secrets concerning their clan among themselves. It’d been a thorn under more than one skin, including the king’s, that not a hint of MacKay private business was bruited about. Not natural! Were there no tale-wagging MacKays?
One close-kept knowledge that annoyed him more than any other was the hiding place of the huge treasure that many had sought, none had found. Edward had no doubt that Hugh MacKay was in control of that hoard just as he was in charge of his clan. None of his operatives who scoured the countryside when he’d been at war with MacKay had ever turned up a clue. There was no way of secreting a spy in the clan. MacKays knew family and kin from generations back. Fifth cousins were as known to them as brothers were.
Despite his ire, Edward admired the MacKays. They, too, had learned their lesson at the hard taskmaster of war and defeat. At another time he might have commiserated with their leader on the similar vagaries of running a country and a clan. Not now. Edward was in no mood to excuse or discuss anything except the topic that had roiled his spirit for days. He’d ordered Hugh MacKay to present himself at once. In fact, he’d wanted him in front of him the very day the message was delivered, though it might have killed a horse to do it. That had been Edward’s plan. MacKay had had other ideas, it would seem.
Hugh entered the great room of the king’s castle and knew the monarch was in bad tid.
“You tarried for a good reason, I’ll be bound,” Edward said, his mouth hard.
Hugh no
dded. “And you are annoyed, good royal, unless I read you in error.”
“You don’t. My temper simmers.”
“I was with my wife, first as her patient, then as her husband.”
Edward’s brows drooped lower. “I’d heard you nearly crossed over to the other side, Hugh. What think you? Did Heaven or Hell await you?”
“Hell, of course. I have Heaven with my wife.”
Edward sat back, a reluctant smile on his face. “You rogue. Only you would end up with a beauty, one who has already produced a son, and will no doubt deliver another in time. Not for you the fry-faced harridans who dog much of the aristocracy.”
Hugh grinned. “Forsooth, I agree that there must be an angel at my beck and call. How else could I have managed to find an earthbound one!”
“You’ve become like the sonnet makers, I’ll be bound.”
Hugh laughed. “If it would please her, I would try it, though I think I’d make poor work of it.”
“I would that I could command you as strongly.” When Hugh opened his mouth to retort, Edward waved him to silence. “I know, I know, you couldn’t be in sickbed and here at the same time.” His smile twisted. “Though some of your foes would gainsay me. They believe you’re in league with the King of Darkness, himself. Ergo, you could be two places at once.”
“They’d be wrong. My wife’s good ministrations and beauty kept me housebound.”
“I would still like a touch of your wife’s power.”
“So would I. She has well and truly caught me and she has won my people to her side.”
Edward chuckled. “Will I have to fight all of Wales next?”
Alerted, Hugh settled back in his chair. “You’re contemplating war?”
“My English cousin, the other Edward Rex, has been making unpleasant sounds. His voracious hunger for lands and treasure has given him a wandering eye.”
“I thought his ravenings were directed toward France.”
“So they are, but I sense he would make all of this land his”—Edward swept his hand around his great room—“before crossing La Manche to tackle our Gallic cousins.”
Hugh frowned. “He’ll set the world afire, and there’ll be no quenching it. I’ll not see one MacKay sacrificed for his greed.”
Edward smiled. “I have your covenant you’ll not fight with him, at his side and with his banner.”
“You have.” Hugh paused. “You should know I have no taste for war, now. MacKay holdings are where they belong. My people are knitting their lives back together. I’ll not see all the striving and good works raveled for Edward of England or for what doesn’t belong to him.”
Edward sighed. “That righteous remark has not stopped many.”
“No, but I tell you this. No MacKay is grist for Edward’s mill. I’ll let him know that. Too many of mine have perished. Too much of what was ours was taken back at too great a cost. There’ll be no MacKays on English Edward’s sacrificial altar.”
Edward Baliol sat back. “They could come at us without warning.”
“No, they couldn’t,” Hugh averred, stretching his long legs in front of him. “MacKay ground is covered and watched.” He cocked a brow. “So is all land that abuts it, including royal holdings.”
“I see.” Edward chuckled. “You’re a rogue.”
“You repeat yourself.”
“I do.” Edward frowned. “You tell me you’re protected.”
“I am.”
“Yet someone, or more than one, breached your defenses on the night of your espousal, Hugh.”
Hugh glowered. It stung to know he’d let his guard down to some degree, even when he’d thought to have covered every hole a foe might find. More than one MacKay had come to him decrying the deed that almost finished him. His people would go to battle in an instant if they discovered who his assailant had been. Hugh would never let them. He would handle the dog himself.
It’d become borne upon him in the long days of convalescence, when he’d had time to ponder the deed, that the enemy could’ve been within the confines of the MacKay holding, even as his bride had been. Had the small army of Welshmen who’d accompanied Morrigan to his lowland holding been hiding the would-be assassin? Had the perpetrator been among other guests? Reason told him it was probable. A gut voice protested his wife would have had no part in the attempt on his life. He’d pulled apart more than one scenario, studying it, then another. His research was enough to absolve his wife of any blame. She’d put herself at great risk, medicating him, letting Diuran know what she was doing. His wife had courage—The royal’s throat-clearing drew his attention. “I was thinking of Morrigan,” Hugh explained.
Edward smiled, shaking his head. “What a boon I’ve given you.”
“You have.”
Edward hesitated. “You don’t think her culpable? Able to be part of the assassination attempt?”
Hugh drew in air, taking his time. “She risked much to save me when she might’ve made myriad excuses about my death. My people are not that easily duped. They’ve had years of survival training when our entire clan was threatened. They suspect most persons unless they are blood kin. Still, they trust her. I trust her.”
Edward nodded. “You don’t know the culprit, do you, or have an inkling of his identity?”
Hugh shook his head. “I will, no matter how long it takes.” He eyed the king. “An unforeseen happenstance saved me, and my wife. I won’t let either of us suffer such a brush with death in the future.”
Edward cocked a brow in query. “ ’Twould seem you think a miracle occurred.”
“Not far wrong. If I believed in such, I would label this one as miracle.”
“Explain.”
“Had she taken some of the same brew, at the time I did, we’d have both gone down into deep malady. No one would’ve heard our groans through the heavy door. Even if they had they could’ve been too late to save us, or not had the knowledge to counteract the poisons.”
Edward inclined his head. “There’s truth in what you say.”
Hugh nodded.
Edward rubbed his chin. “Even so most wouldn’t have intruded at the sound, figuring that the bride and groom had begun their pleasures anon,” Edward said in sour humor.
Hugh grimaced, his head jerking up and down in rough assent. “And none would’ve attended us until it was too late.”
Edward steepled his hands and looked at Hugh. “And the word went out you were dead.”
Hugh nodded. “Not just my godmother heard this. Throughout the Highlands—”
“And England—”
“—the messengers went far and wide. Someone planned my end with great care, and the announcement to all and sundry.” He frowned.
“What?”
“I’m still not convinced who the target was.”
Edward frowned. “ ’Twas you.”
“Or ’twas Morrigan… and mayhap the boy.”
“Why? The boy would not taste your spirits.”
“What if some was given to him as medicine after we were taken care of?”
“ ’Tis farfetched, Hugh. What has the lad? Naught but the name of Llywelyn. True it has the power of persuasion in Wales, its personages listened to in all considerations of how Wales does business. It ends there, for there’s little else for him to inherit, except through his mother. Her monies and holding will be his. That would not compare to the Llywelyn brothers’ holdings.”
Hugh shrugged. “Not so. He’s my heir… in part.”
Edward frowned. “There is that, but what of your wife?”
“What of my wife?” The vision of Morrigan rose before him, in his bed, spread beneath his gaze, her warm creamy skin her only cover.
“She has little of value, though she is regent of Trevelyan…” Edward’s eyes narrowed. “You think this endangered her? On your spousal day? She requested the regency.”
“I know. To my knowledge there is no one who would contest her right to be such, nor think her claim without me
rit.” He glowered. “I will admit the thought preys upon me.”
Edward sighed. “I cannot see the danger there. In estates that lie fallow for generations, in much of Wales, it is regnant populus, not regnant rex, that assumes power.” Edward’s smile twisted when Hugh’s harsh laugh cut through his words.
“ ’Tis true. Many are as independent as my wife.”
Edward grimaced. “Those wild and woolly Celts rule themselves in that iron countryside.”
Hugh shrugged. “What they do in that godforsaken land matters little to me unless they mount a force against MacKays.”
“And your king, surely,” Edward offered, his tones dry.
“Surely.” Hugh’s voice was touched with the same irony.
Edward’s lips tightened. “I would need to know, at once, if they mounted a campaign. Any hesitation in countering could cost much.” He showed his teeth. “English Edward would foster such a move to bring me to heel.”
“Your people who move among the Celts would tell you of such.”
Edward’s lemon smile acknowledged the hit. There wasn’t much Hugh MacKay didn’t know about the goings on throughout the land. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that you would know about the network of spies I’ve had to spread through the countries and holdings abutting the royal ones? Mayhap your wife would tell us about the underground of Wales.”
“Mayhap my wife could have loyalty to her own. She’s not been in Scotland that long that she should eschew all her past life and loved ones,” Hugh pointed out, his tone even.
Edward nodded. “And you wouldn’t push her to do?”
“No.”
Edward’s mouth twisted in a smile. “I would not dice with your spouse. She fears nothing and chances all.”
Hugh nodded, a shiver of trepidation washing over him as he recalled her in the sea trying to reach Rhys. “Too plucky by half.”
“What means this?”
Hugh related the tale of her daring.
“I would think on this.” Edward scowled. “Perhaps ’twasn’t an accident that the Viking water dog was there. Such a thing could entice any lad—”
“I’ve pondered such a happening.”
The Pledge Page 14
