Aye, Rodrick knew it because he’d witnessed it first-hand. “If ye think we will give Cora over to ye—” he began.
“Nay,” Walter interrupted. “That is no’ what I want. The mother seems to love her child verra much. I believe she be in good care here.”
Rodrick nodded his agreement but otherwise remained quiet.
“Me son’s inheritance, by rights, belongs to the child.”
“Her name is Cora,” Rodrick told him. “Cora MacElroy.”
Walter stopped their forward progression and turned to face Rodrick. “The inheritance belongs to her,” he said, ignoring Rodrick’s declaration. Tugging at something draped into his belt, Walter retrieved a hefty pouch. He tried handing it to Rodrick, but he refused to take it.
“Do no’ let yer pride stand in the way of yer daughter havin’ what is rightfully hers.”
Walter’s words yer daughter did not go unnoticed. “I can raise her on me own. We do no’ need yer help.”
Walter rolled his eyes. “Ye be as stubborn as I,” he said. “’Tis no’ fer ye to use to raise her. ’Tis fer ye to give to her when she reaches an appropriate age. Or to give to her as a dowry.”
Rodrick stared at the offered pouch for a long moment. From its size, he could reckon it contained a good deal of money. None of this made a bit of sense. He was talking to the father of the man he’d just killed. A man who could have started a war. A man who could take Cora and naught could be legally done to stop it.
Yet instead of declaring war or seeking retribution on behalf of his son or demanding custody of Cora, Walter MacDonald was being congenial. “What do ye get from all this?” Rodrick asked. He knew there had to be more to his generosity that merely that of a loving —if that could even be said — grandfather.
“I want naught but two things from ye,” Walter began.
Rodrick was suspicious but tried to keep an open mind.
“I want yer word,” he said, pointing a thick index finger at him, “that ye will raise Cora better than I raised Fergus.”
That would be as easy as breathing, Rodrick thought. “And?”
“And,” Walter said. Rodrick could see him struggling ever so slightly to find the right words. “I would like to see the girl child at least once a year.” He stopped Rodrick’s protests with a raised hand. “She need no’ ken I be her grandsire,” he said. “I merely want to make certain ye be keepin’ the first promise. It can be at a time and place of yer choosin’.”
Rodrick did not think it necessarily a horrible request. “Me wife will never agree to such,” he told him.
“Need she ken?” Walter asked, suggesting he lie.
“Of course she needs to ken!” Rodrick exclaimed. “I will no’ keep such a thing from her.”
Walter thought on it for a long moment. “So ye will tell her about the inheritance and our meetin’? What if she refuses all the gold in that pouch?”
Gold? Rodrick looked at the fat, heavy pouch. He thought, at best, it might be naught more than a few pieces of silver. But gold?
“Will ye be able to give a dowry such as this to her? To any of yer children?”
Rodrick need not answer, for they both knew he couldn’t.
“If ye allow me to see Cora once a year, I will see to it that all of yer children, born or to be born, each receives the same amount of coin fer either a dowry or whatever they wish.”
There was no way he could offer anything even remotely similar to Cora. And if last night was any indication of his future, he and Muriel would be having many, many children. Could he, in good conscience, keep such a secret from Muriel? She was bound to find out sooner or later. Especially when he presented a heavy bag of gold as dowry or marital gift.
He supposed, for a moment, that he could take the money and put it away for safe-keeping. Later, mayhap a decade from now, he could tell Muriel. Aye, she might be mad enough to bludgeon him to death with a cooking pot, but at least his children would be cared for.
Realizing he was not a young man anymore, and realizing he could never give any of his children such a gift on his own, he made a decision to accept.
Rodrick could only hope and pray he could convince his wife of the soundness of his plan.
Epilogue
Twould be nearly two decades before Rodrick confessed to Muriel his arrangement with Walter MacDonald. While some might have called it an act of cowardice to keep such a thing secret, Rodrick stood firm on his decision. Too much harm had been done to his wife at the hands of the mad man that was Fergus MacDonald. As far as Rodrick was concerned, taking the man’s life and his father’s offered gold was not nearly enough recompense.
So, kept it a secret he did until his beautiful daughter Cora reached the age of seven and ten. Rodrick would have kept the secret longer had the poor girl not fallen in love with a Mackintosh man. And had that man not been one of good character, honor—a young man Rodrick had known since the day he was born—he would have gainsaid the match. As much as he would have preferred all four of his daughters to be sent to a convent the moment they discovered the lads, Muriel was adamantly opposed. Besides, who could say no to a match betwixt their first born and the son of a clan chief? Nay, he could find no good reason not to allow Cora to wed James Mackintosh.
When he finally confessed to Muriel the nearly two-decade-long secret, she was not nearly as angry had he imagined she would be. “I’ve known about yer little agreement with Walter for years,” she told him on the day of Cora’s wedding. Apparently, Cora was not as good at keeping a secret at Rodrick. When Cora had turned eight, she had told her mother all about Walter MacDonald. “I figured ye would eventually tell me,” Muriel said with a knowing smile. “But if ye ever think to keep another secret such as that from me, I shall no’ wait for ye to fall asleep to kill ye. I shall do it so that ye can look me in the eye and watch.”
There was no doubt to the sincerity in her voice, nor her abilities. He had not only trained her in the use of knives, dirks, and sgian dubs, over the years, he had taught her the proper use of swords as well. He held on to the belief that she loved him too much to kill him. But he wasn’t about to take any chances.
Rodrick had also trained each of his daughters and his only son just as diligently as he’d trained their mother. No man could be prouder of his wife and children than Rodrick the bold. He had a most perfect life. One he was quite content with.
For years, he lived his life most honorably and proudly, with a sense of contentment he would not have thought possible before meeting Muriel. He would be nearly seventy-years old before that sense of contentment would be tested beyond anything he had ever previously experienced.
The God-awful dream — of the red-haired beauty with eyes the color of emeralds — returned to him, and with unparalleled vengeance. Many years ago, he had believed the lass was Muriel, but his wife looked nothing at all like the image that had haunted him. Years had passed by without the recurring dream.
He had forgotten all about the beautiful creature, forgotten her torment and lamentation. He had forgotten all about her and the sickening sensation the nightly visits had left behind.
Now, the sweet lass was back, calling to him, through the abyss, through a mist so thick he believed it would strangle him. She was begging for his help, so desperate and disconsolate he could feel it to his very marrow.
Soaked in sweat, his old heart beating violently against his chest, he woke crying out her name.
“Isobella!”
He now knew who the red-haired beauty who had called to him decades ago was. ’Twas his second born daughter, Isobella.
And she needed him.
Afterword from Suzan
I truly enjoyed writing this story. Some of you might think that I ended it on a cliff hanger. To a certain extent, that is true! However, I firmly believe that where one story ends another begins.
There are times, while writing a story, that an image pops into your mind as vividly and as real as the next breath you take
. And that was true with this story.
While writing Rodrick the Bold, I kept thinking about the image of the red-haired beauty with the emerald green eyes. For the life of me, I didn’t know and couldn’t understand the importance of her and that image, only that she was important. I could feel it in my gut. It wasn’t until I sat down to write the epilogue that I began to understand.
Yes, I will be writing a story for Isobella, the lovely daughter of Rodrick and Muriel. I just don’t know when. But I do promise you, that rattling around somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, her story does exist. Right now, it’s just bits and pieces and fleeting images.
As has happened with a few of my other books—McKenna’s Honor comes to mind—that story came to me early one morning, whilst I was tending to my morning ablutions. From out of no where came one sentence: Angus hangs at dawn. Wham! Like that, the images came pouring in, and for a brief moment I thought I had lost my mind. I wrote McKenna’s Honor in three weeks.
I know that one day, Isobella’s story will come to me in nearly full form, just like McKenna’s Honor did.
With much love and gratitude,
Suzan Tisdale
Author. Storyteller. Cheeky Wench.
About the Author
USA Today Bestselling Author, storyteller and cheeky wench, SUZAN TISDALE lives in the Midwest with her verra handsome carpenter husband. All but one of her children have left the nest. Her pets consist of dust bunnies and a dozen poodle-sized, backyard-dwelling groundhogs – all of which run as free and unrestrained as the voices in her head. And she doesn’t own a single pair of yoga pants, much to the shock and horror of her fellow authors. She prefers to write in her pajamas.
Suzan writes Scottish historical romance/fiction, with honorable and perfectly imperfect heroes and strong, feisty heroines. And bad guys she kills off in delightfully wicked ways.
She published her first novel, Laiden’s Daughter, in December, 2011, as a gift for her mother. That one book started a journey which has led to fifteen published titles, with two more being released in the spring of 2017. To date, she has sold more than 350,000 copies of her books around the world. They have been translated into four foreign languages (Italian, French, German, and Spanish.)
You will find her books in digital, paperback, and audiobook formats.
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Also by Suzan Tisdale
The Clan MacDougall Series
Laiden’s Daughter
Findley’s Lass
Wee William’s Woman
McKenna’s Honor
The Clan Graham Series
Rowan’s Lady
Frederick’s Queen
The Mackintoshes and McLarens Series
Ian’s Rose
The Bowie Bride
Rodrick the Bold
Brogan’s Promise
The Clan McDunnah Series
A Murmur of Providence
A Whisper of Fate
A Breath of Promise
Moirra’s Heart Series
Stealing Moirra’s Heart
Saving Moirra’s Heart
Stand Alone Novels
Isle of the Blessed
Forever Her Champion
The Edge of Forever
Arriving in 2018:
Black Richard’s Heart
The Brides of the Clan MacDougall
(A Sweet Series)
Aishlinn
Maggy (arriving 2018)
Nora (arriving 2018)
Coming Soon:
The MacAllens and Randalls
Rodrick the Bold Page 18
