“She did her swearing when she took her vows. That any dare to gainsay that means war,” Hugh shouted.
“No, we mustn’t,” Morrigan pleaded. “None must die over this.”
“Listen, Hugh, I beg,” Kieran added his voice. “Again I say if she goes to Edinburgh—”
“She goes nowhere.” Hugh ground out the words. “She’s been ill.”
Maud groaned. “Then we are undone. Can’t you see, godson, that Kieran is right?” Her gaze slid to Morrigan. “My poor child, what ails—”
“She’s better,” Hugh interrupted. “And I’ll not see her in fever over this.”
Morrigan touched Hugh’s arm, then glanced at the messenger. “Then we must study alternatives.” She licked her lips. “Perhaps all can be accomplished by doing nothing, by remaining in our castle.”
“I feel you err in this, my dear,” Maud whispered.
“No, she doesn’t,” Hugh averred. “If she stays here, as my wife, which she is, none can gainsay her. All MacKays will swear to her validity as Lady MacKay. All but a few of my clan witnessed her rites and vows.”
Kieran bit his lip. “This is true. I, myself, was on the altar, but I fear Mother is right in this, cousin.”
“I don’t agree,” Hugh said through his teeth, keeping Morrigan in the curve of his arm.
Kieran looked pained. “You can keep them away from Castle MacKay, but you can’t stop the order of dissolution, Hugh. It’s in the works. Copies have been scribed and sent to Rome as we speak. If the cardinal becomes capricious and starts to act on it, on his own, he has the authority. All my objections will have little effect.” Kieran winced. “ ’Tis better to face him on this. If I can I will convince him to travel to Rome, which he loves to do, have a private audience with the pope. It will add to his stature to do so.”
“Pompous ass,” Hugh muttered.
Morrigan bit back a smile. Not too much impressed her strong-hearted husband. “Kieran is right. Perhaps he could accompany the cardinal. He could add his arguments.”
Kieran nodded. “By the end of the season all could be put to rights, Hugh. If we stall on this, if the cardinal feels an affront to his authority he might sign the dicta. Your vows will be considered invalid. Once done ’twould be a tangled weave to be sure, not so easily handled. Surely you can see the need for discretion, for moving correctly on this.”
“They can bloody well keep their noses out of my business and my life,” Hugh ordered. “Morrigan is my wife, and no other’s. That will not change.”
Morrigan slipped her arm around his waist. Though it was unseemly she had a need to reassure her beset husband. “I will always be your wife.”
Kieran spread his hands, his beseeching glance touching Morrigan. “True.” He inhaled. “But there are considerations.”
“Nothing is important but my wife and the clan.”
“Hugh, listen,” Morrigan urged. “ ’Tis not our plan to have anger thrust against our people.”
“I’ll listen.” Hugh kissed her cheek. “Go on, Kieran.”
“If ’twere just your life and holding to protect I would back you on this.” Kieran paused.
“Well?” Hugh shot at him.
“I’m being blunt because I must be. I would like it not if any issue of yours was declared ineligible to be your heir because of bastardy.”
Hugh’s roar of rage brought MacKays on the run, weapons drawn.
Morrigan freed herself from Hugh’s hold, leaving her husband and going to the side of the two leading Mac-Kays, a very tense Toric and Diuran. “ ’Tis of little import, my friends. You may retire.”
“Pardon me, milady, I would do so. But first I would know why your hand shakes,” Diuran said through his teeth, his gaze shooting about the great room.
“I would as well,” Toric mentioned, scanning the area.
“Toric!” Hugh shouted. “Would you say my marriage vows to milady were valid?”
Toric nodded. “I would. Why would I not when I was there to hear them freely exchanged?”
Hugh gave a hard laugh. “Point taken. I’ll hear no more.”
“Are there any so foolish as to gainsay this?” Diuran’s words stopped all discussions and murmurings.
“ ’Twould seem the two Edwards think so,” Hugh answered.
Morrigan glared at her husband. “Hugh—”
“Then this MacKay declares war on the slime who would malign our lady,” Diuran shouted.
“Oh, Lord,” Morrigan muttered. “What next?”
“Did he just declare war on England and Scotland?” Lady MacKenzie quizzed in fading accents. “How can this be?” She sank back against her chair, waving her veil in front of her. “Our lives are forfeit.”
Morrigan hurried to her side. “No, ma’am, ’Tisn’t so. There’s no thought of war. I beg you not to overset yourself. Men can speak unwisely, but I can assure you my MacKays wouldn’t dream of waging a war on such as this—”
“We would!” Toric and Diuran shouted in unison, the bellowings bringing even more MacKays to stuff the room to overflowing.
Morrigan turned around, glowering at Diuran and Toric. She stamped her foot. “Desist! I’ll not hear any more of war from any of you. Hear me well. Not one MacKay shall have a bruise over this.” She waved her hand. “Think you I’ll have any of the clan piped to their grave? Never! Do you hear me?” She stamped the other foot. “I have decreed it. Do you understand? Do you hear me?”
“They’d hear you in Edinburgh,” Toric muttered. Then he lost his grin when Morrigan turned her furious gaze on him. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
Morrigan inhaled. “I should think so.” A little more calm, she went to the clusters of MacKays mulling about the anteroom. “All is well, my friends. No need to fret. Go about your business.” She smiled. They smiled back. No one moved.
“Have you been insulted, milady?” Urdred moved through the throng, his large body quivering with feeling.
Morrigan shook her head. “No. No, truly I have not.”
“You have,” Hugh pronounced behind her.
MacKays bristled, growling to one another, uttering dire threats.
“I challenge any and all who’ve done this,” Urdred shouted.
Morrigan winced at the yell, her ears ringing. “Stop!”
No one paid attention. Instead they muttered among themselves, discussing battle plans.
She whirled around, scowling. “Hush your whisht, Hugh MacKay, at once. I’ll not have our people embroiled in such nonsense.”
MacKay mouths hung open at their lady’s temerity in telling the laird to be quiet. Had anyone ever done that to Hugh MacKay? Certainly not since he’d been out of leading strings.
Hugh approached her, his eyes glittering with purpose, a vinegary mirth outlining his features. “Then let our people decide for themselves if there is need to move on this assault to your virtue.”
“Aye!” thundered the gathering, intent and purpose on every visage.
Urdred waved his claymore in the air, as did others. “I’ll draw and quarter the spalpeens who dared such a falsehood.”
Morrigan raised her hands for quiet. Some listened, others continued to fret and argue.
“Hugh, have a care!” his godmother intoned, shaking her head. “Would you have your wife wrapped in shame with no alternative but to enter a convent?”
“Not bloody likely. Morrigan stays with me,” Hugh stated, his hard smile touching the throng of protesters. Then he fixed his gaze on his wife. “You’re mine,” he mouthed for her alone, though others saw it.
Morrigan smiled and nodded.
“Let us ponder together, pray on this,” Kieran said, adding leverage to his mother’s argument.
“No!” was the battle cry.
When the hubbub subsided, so that those who would speak could be heard, Kieran approached Hugh. “Let me try to talk to the cardinal before blood is spilled. You can meet me in, say, three days in Edinburgh. I will have softened up the prelate, God wi
lling. You can sit down with him and voice your valid arguments. Then all of us will go to Edward Baliol. We’ll enlist his help in facing English Edward. Let the two of them thrash out any disagreements they might have. You know they will see the validity of pacifying you in your cause. They’ve nothing to gain by siding with the Welsh who instituted this annulment. The cardinal, needing the good wishes of the two kings, will add his support, bringing the papacy to your side. All will be settled amicably.”
Silence whorled around the great room in puffs of uncertainty, agitation, ponderings, and disbelief. Credibility was slow to come to the irate MacKays, yet reason argued that MacKenzie was speaking sensibly.
Hugh began to pace.
“Listen to him, Hugh,” Morrigan urged. “ ’Tis a good plan, one that could work. We need to take all steps to protect our own.”
Hugh stopped suddenly and grabbed her so quickly, she caught her breath. “I’ll not let anyone take you from me.” He didn’t bother to lower his voice. The mutterings from the clan members answered him.
“I wouldn’t be parted from you.” She patted his cheek. “We will just take care of this problem, then relax.” Her smile widened. “Or ready ourselves for the next mare’s nest.”
His heavy brow lightened and he leaned down to kiss her nose. “We’ll do that.” He brought her closer to his chest. “I like not to leave you.”
“I like it less,” she said into his shirt.
Smiling down at her, he kissed her cheek. “We will have our life. I’ll be back in a few turns of the sun.”
“That quickly?” She tried to smile, but her heart twisted at the thought of being parted from him. She saw the glint in his eyes that told her he understood.
“Faster, mayhap.”
Hugh looked up at Kieran, nodding. “You go to the cardinal. I’ll bide my time, then join you and we’ll go to the king. I’ll contact you in two turns of the sun hence.”
Kieran blinked. “I must go at once, then.” He grimaced at his mother.
“She can stay here,” Morrigan offered.
Lady MacKenzie rose to her feet, her grace giving truth to how young she’d been to bear her only child. “How kind you are, Morrigan, but I will go with my son and add my voice to his. Another advocate won’t hurt.” Her smile crooked. “Who knows? We might clean up the matter even before Hugh joins us.”
Morrigan’s importunings were put off, and soon the MacKenzie entourage was leaving the gate. “Think them safe in their quest, Hugh?”
He nodded, keeping her within the circle of his arm. “MacKays will guide them through lands belonging to those friendly to MacKays.” He smiled down at her. “Kieran is well known in the Highlands, and since his ministry takes him to Edinburgh several times in the turning of the moon, he will be passing many acquaintances.”
“Good. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to your family.” She sighed. “You think we can placate the cardinal, so that the papacy won’t be involved?”
“We will, or we’ll live here alone with our clan. No one can take my wife or my title from me.”
Morrigan burrowed into his chest, loving it when he wrapped his tartan around her. “I feel better already.”
“Good, I wouldn’t want you tired when I say goodbye to you.”
“Hugh!” Morrigan looked around them, but no one was close to them. “You talk too freely, sirrah.”
He lifted her into his arms. “I will tell you more, if you like, and I’ll whisper it against your skin from your neck to your ankles, beautiful one.”
“Hugh,” Morrigan whispered, her body singing at his words.
They retired early, taking berries, oat cakes, and ale to their suite. They eschewed the food. Instead they embraced, far into the night, the whispered words of love which, in truth, was all the heat they needed or wanted.
The next day Morrigan spent all her time with Hugh and the children.
Arms entwined, Hugh and Morrigan watched their three at their riding lessons.
“Our Avis is becoming as intrepid as her mother,” Hugh said, smiling.
“I’m that proud of her and the boys,” Morrigan told him in Gaelic.
That evening they supped with the children, then they retired early, loving deeply, neither mentioning their separation the next day.
Just as the sun was making an appearance Hugh rose. Morrigan ate a small meal with him, then insisted on riding with him to the perimeter of Sutherland land, their nearest neighbor, her horse bumping his from time to time.
“You’re not to worry, love,” he told her, knowing that she was remembering the last time they were parted just as he was.
“Neither should you,” she riposted. “None could rip apart a MacKay vow unless they had Ajax’s ax.”
Hugh chuckled, leaning over and scooping her from her saddle to settle her in front of him.
Toric chuckled, catching up her reins and twisting them around his wrist. “Will she not be a burden, cousin, if you troll her all the way to Edinburgh?”
“Are you saying I’m too many stone for him to carry, Toric?” Morrigan eyed the laughing MacKay. “Because if you are, I challenge you, here and now, to a jousting on your return.”
“Done,” Toric said, eyeing the MacKays who surrounded them, who were already making wagers.
“We’ll see about that,” Hugh murmured into her hair. “When I return you’ll be too busy in my bed for that nonsense.”
When Morrigan reddened and pushed at her husband, the MacKays laughed louder. Even though she was sure they hadn’t heard, she knew they would surmise what Hugh had whispered.
They parted on a knoll. He kissed her repeatedly, then gave terse instructions to the men who surrounded her.
Morrigan watched him out of sight, her heart pleading for him to come back to her as soon as possible.
FIFTEEN
Fortune is not satisfied with inflictingone calamity.
Publius Syrus
Hugh and his men usually went into any fracas with heads high, grim humor slashing their mouths. Their fateful acceptance of injury and death came from too many years of warfare.
When Keith began to hum a MacKay battle ballad, Toric dropped back, shaking his head.
“We’ve always done this,” Keith assured the second in command to the laird.
“So we have.” Toric slanted his gaze forward. “Not this day, I’m thinking. Hugh is deuced overset about this business.” Toric frowned. “I can’t say I feel any better. How in God’s name will he live if the cardinal goes against him. English Edward will have the reason he needs to snap at our heels.”
“Scotland’s king must support his greatest lord,” Keith averred, his teeth baring in a snarl. “None must try to blacken our lady’s name.”
“And that is what is tearing him apart. Lord MacKenzie hit the nail on the head when he mentioned bastardy. That it could sully the name of any child spawned between Morrigan and Hugh would be a burden too great for him. Before the birth, our lady could be jeopardized by the epithet of whore, as she was once before—”
Keith bleated his rage, his steed reacting to it and rearing. The other MacKays heard the same and began cursing.
Hugh looked back, pulling up his destrier. “What’s amiss?” His eyes scanned the thick copse ahead. Better to be safe than sorry, though they were on the edge of Graham land. Donald Graham had been his ally through it all, so he wasn’t too concerned.
“We speak of our lady,” Toric answered, getting the rough side of Keith’s tongue for owning up to it.
Hugh let his horse drop to a trot as the others came up on him. “Worry not. She’ll be fine.”
“Say what you will, Hugh, if any so much as thinks evil of her, I’ll skewer him even if it’s the king himself,” Keith said, earning ayes from his clansmen.
“If I don’t get to him first,” Hugh interjected, earning some mirth from the men, though firm intent didn’t die from their eyes.
Perhaps their discourse diverted some of their cau
tion. To be sure, they were prepared as they entered the tunnel of trees, letting their eyes adjust to the difference in light.
“Aiyee,” Carmody let loose a battle cry. “Above us.”
Hugh turned in his saddle, catching the man who leaped atop him. He rolled off the destrier to the ground, bringing back his fist to smash it in the face beneath him. Before he could land another blow, another one was there, cudgel held high. He brought it down on Hugh’s temple.
Too many turns of the sun. Too many long nights, alone in the big bed. The phrases ran around her head as she stared from the parapet as she’d been wont to do the past sennight.
“What is it, maman?”
Morrigan looked down at Conal, the frailest of her three children. He was more apt to get the rawness of the throat than the other two. He was also more in tune with what she felt. He amazed her.
“All is well, my son,” she told him, smiling down at the lad, who’d grown inches since coming to live at the castle.
“You worry about Papa.”
She nodded, too concerned and fatigued to dissemble. “Yes. I had hoped that—”
“He will be fine. He’s a true MacKay,” Conal interrupted, something he rarely did.
Morrigan leaned down and kissed his forehead. “You warm my heart, dearest.”
Conal wrapped his arms around her hips. They hugged, not moving.
A flurry beyond the gates drew her eyes, and she straightened, her heart beginning a painful thudding.
Conal called to his sister and brother, and Rhys and Avis joined him at the ramparts.
“Who is it, maman?”
“I don’t know, Rhys.” She covered her brow with the side of her hand. “ ’Tis an entourage, I think.”
“Papa!” Rhys yelled, running to the narrow stairs that would take him down into the main area of the castle.
“Don’t run, Rhys. I would wish you to watch over Avis.” Morrigan knew that would stop him, and it did. The three were very caring of one another, and were almost inseparable.
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