Moirra's Heart Series: The Complete Collection ( Moirra's Heart Series: The Complete Collection (The Moirra's Heart Series Book 3))

by Suzan Tisdale

  Orabilis, with eyes as wide as trenchers, could only nod her head numbly.

  Muriale closed her eyes, took a deep breath while she carefully and slowly lifted the latch with trembling hands. Taking another breath in through her nose, she counted to three, threw the door open and yelled for Orabilis to run whilst giving her a hard push.

  Though she was terrified to the point of tears, Orabilis raced into the cottage and headed straight for the ladder to the loft. Muriale raced in behind her. The wolves would not be deterred. With them nipping and snarling at her heels, she slammed the door shut. Terrified, she didn’t pause long enough to bar the door shut. Her only thought was getting to the safety of the loft.

  The door slammed against the frame with a loud bang before springing open again. Orabilis was at the top of the ladder by the time Muriale reached it. The wolves ran inside the cottage, still growling and snarling, intent on making Muriale the main course. Scurrying as fast as her hands and feet would take her, she was nearly halfway up the ladder when one of the wolves lunged forward. When she felt his paws scrape at her legs, she let loose with a blood-curdling scream.

  “Muriale!” Orabilis called out frantically from the loft. “Hurry!”

  The wolf had latched on to the hem of Muriale’s skirt and was doing his best to pull her down. Muriale continued to scream while Orabilis continued to shout. “Muriale, do no’ let go!”

  Terrified, Muriale tried to kick the wolf loose with one foot. She let out a yelp when she momentarily lost her grip and came close to falling. Unable to move up the ladder, she wrapped both arms around it and held on for dear life.

  Orabilis watched in paralyzing fear as the wolves growled and bit and tugged at Muriale’s skirts. “Muriale, please, do no’ let go!”

  Muriale could do nothing but scream. Wanting to do something other than watch her sister being eaten alive by wolves, Orabilis looked about the tiny loft. She grabbed the chamber pot from the corner and hurled it down at the snarling beasts, hitting one in its hindquarters. The animal yelped, but was undeterred. Immediately, he was back and trying to grab his own bit of her sister.

  It seemed as though an eternity passed while Muriale hung onto the ladder and Orabilis continued to hurl anything she could get her hands on. As she tossed the candle stick down, she heard the fierce bark of a dog. Relief washed over her when she looked up to see her dog in the doorway of the cottage.

  “Wulver!” she cried out.

  The dog barked once again, before he began to growl his warning to the wolves. While the one wolf remained firmly attached to Muriale’s skirt, the two other wolves turned their attention to Wulver. With bared teeth, the animals growled and snarled at each other for long moments before the wolves lunged for the dog.

  ’Twas an all-out brawl after that point. Gnashing, growling, baying, the animals tore into one another, toppling over furniture and anything else in their path. The wolf that had been doing its best to pull Muriale down, gave up his struggle and went to help his friends.

  “Wulver!” Orabilis cried out when she saw the three wolves pounce on top of him.

  Muriale scrambled up the ladder once she realized she was free. Out of breath, sweat rolling off her face along with tears, she held onto Orabilis and tried to shield her from the fight below by pulling her into her chest. The sickening sounds coming from below made her chest feel tight while fear settled into her stomach. She chanced a glance over the railing.

  Wulver was putting up a tremendous fight against the wolves. Yelps blending with growls filled the tiny cottage. Muriale’s heart seized when she saw the small stool had been slammed into the fireplace. She could only pray that the low burning embers were not enough to ignite the legs of the stool.

  Everything had happened so quickly that it was difficult for Muriale to wrap her mind around it. One moment, she and her sister were happily racing to the cottage, the next they were being chased by very hungry and angry looking wolves. And those wolves were now ferociously scrambling about the cottage floor, hell-bent on killing Wulver. They slammed against the table, its legs scraping along the stone floor, the force sending bowls and dishes to the floor. In the next moment, the table where they kept the pitcher and bowl for washing up was kicked over and the wash cloths fell dangerously close to the stool.

  She and Orabilis were trapped in the loft and there seemed no help in sight, save for the brave mongrel dog that was doing his best to fend off the wolves. Orabilis lifted her head to look at the sight below them. Grief stricken and worried over Wulver, tears ran down her cheeks as she cried out for Wulver.

  “Wulver,” she sobbed, “Run! Run away ye stupid dog!” She didn’t truly believe him to be a stupid dog but they were the only words she could think to say.

  Her next breath was stolen away from her when she saw the wash cloth ignite along with the stool. “Muriale!” she shouted. “Fire!”

  Time came to a slow crawl as Alysander made his way toward the cottage. With sword drawn and believing the same men who had tried to attack Mariote weeks ago had returned, he was not prepared for what he heard and saw when he rounded the small bend.

  From within the cottage, he could hear the growling and snarling of dogs as well the screams of two terrified little girls. As he ran toward the cottage, his heart sick with worry that wolves were now attacking his daughters, he yelled their names. “Orabilis! Muriale!”

  He doubted they could hear him above the din of fighting animals. Moments later, he saw smoke swirling out the open door. His heart leapt to his throat as he ran toward the tiny cottage. The sight of flames bursting through the thatched roof and the sounds of children screaming and dogs fighting merged into one ugly heart-wrenching, stomach-churning, scene. For a brief moment, he felt his world collapsing around him, before anger and instinct kicked in.

  He raced into the cottage, completely disregarding his own safety. To his left, he saw flames burning all around the fireplace, the floor and the wall. Through the heavy smoke that enveloped him, he could just make out a snarling, biting pile of fur and teeth.

  “Orabilis! Muriale!” he called out to the smoke-filled air.

  “John!” Muriale screamed from above. “Wolves!”

  He rushed forward, toward the ladder and was nearly knocked off his feet by one of the huge, furry beasts. He sliced his way across the room with his sword, the blade hitting against something. Soon after, he could hear the sound of claws scraping across the stone floor as the beasts fled.

  “Hurry!” he called up to the girls, reaching his arms upward. The smoke was intense and he was uncertain how much longer he could remain in the cottage without being overcome by it.

  Orabilis all but fell down the ladder. Alysander caught her, set her on her feet and gave the order for her to flee.

  “But Wulver!” she choked out a cry.

  Muriale was next. As soon as her feet hit the floor, they raced out of the cottage and into the gloriously clean and smoke free air. They were met by a horrified and sobbing Moirra and two sisters.

  “Wulver! He be inside! He saved us!” Orabilis cried and sobbed. “Please, John! Save him!” She fought against her mother who was trying to pull her to safety. “Nay! Wulver!”

  Once the realization set in that Wulver remained inside, Alysander turned back toward the cottage. The flames along the thatched roof were increasing, dark smoke continued to pour out of the door and windows in great waves. He was about to tell Orabilis that there was no way on God’s earth he was going to go back into the cottage to save a wolf, when he caught sight of something dark making its way toward the door.

  Prepared to kill the animal with his sword, Alysander quickly made his way forward. As he drew closer, he could see it was not a wolf. The animal was nothing more than a black, mongrel dog. It was in great distress, whimpering as it pulled its way toward the opening.

  Alysander rushed forward, scooped the dog up into his arms and got away from the flamed-engulfed home as quickly as he could.

 
The scent of acrid smoke filled the yard. While Orabilis sobbed over Wulver, Moirra sobbed over what could have happened to her daughters. They huddled together on the ground near the barn, while Alysander, Mariote and Esa did their best to fight the fire. Esa drew up buckets of water while Alysander and Mariote did their best to douse the flames. Once Moirra saw that her daughters hadn’t been injured by the wolves, she joined in to help her husband and daughters.

  ’Twas all for naught. The flames won out and nearly everything within the cottage was lost.

  Sometime later, there was little left of their tiny home, save for the stone floors and a partial wall. It lay in ruins.

  Alysander looked heartsick as he stood with his fingertips resting on his hips, staring at what remained of their home. Covered from head to toe in soot, smelling of smoke and sweat, Moirra went to stand beside him.

  “I can rebuild me cottage, Alysander,” she said as she placed a hand on his arm. “But I canna replace me daughters.”

  Alysander let out a frustrated breath before turning to look at her. Tears had left trails through the soot covering her face. Her beautiful blonde hair hung all around her shoulders. Though her dress was nearly black from the smoke and a sleeve was torn in spots, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever set his eyes upon.

  “It will take time to rebuild yer cottage, Moirra,” Alysander said solemnly.

  “Aye, I suppose yer right, but at the moment, I do no’ care one bit. All I care about is that everyone is safe.”

  Alysander turned to look at the girls. They were huddled together, doing their best to tend to the dog’s wounds. He gave a shake of his head, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that the mongrel dog had tried to protect Orabilis and Muriale. “How fares the hound?” he asked.

  Moirra sighed. “He’s sorely injured, Alysander. They’ve cleaned his wounds as best they could. But all me herbs and poultices were in the cottage.”

  Alysander nodded his head. “I shall go to the village and get what we need. I canna let an animal suffer.”

  “I could go to Thomas McGregor’s home and ask—”

  Alysander spun sharply, his eyes wide with disgust and anger. “So ye run to him now?” he seethed.

  Moirra thrust her chin upward and her shoulders back. “I’d no’ run to Thomas McGregor if I were starvin’ and had only grass to eat,” she told him firmly. “But I would go to his sister for help.”

  Alysander blinked, the anger in his eyes fading, slowly replaced with embarrassment. He swallowed hard before speaking again. “I didna ken he had a sister.” He felt all kinds the fool at the moment.

  “Aye,” Moirra said as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I fear there be many things ye do no’ ken, Alysander McCullum.”

  He could see her ire increasing as his own shame intensified. “Do ye no’ ken me at all?” she asked rhetorically as tears pooled in her eyes. “Do ye think so ill of me that ye’d believe fer even a moment that I’d run to Thomas McGregor now? If I didna run to him when me crops failed two years ago, I wouldna run to him now ye foolish eejit!”

  Suddenly, he wanted to crawl away and hide until she was no longer angry with him. Believing that might take years, years he did not want to waste, he did the one thing he’d been wanting to do for weeks. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. He did not care what Moirra or her daughters might think of this open and public display. Alysander’s only thought at that moment was that he needed to feel Moirra in his arms.

  Relief washed over him when he felt Moirra return the kiss with as much passion and enthusiasm as he felt. When he broke the kiss, her eyes were glassy, her lips pink and swollen. She stood looking up at him for several long moments as if she had momentarily forgotten where she was. They stood looking at one another. Alysander feeling very pleased with himself and the apparent affect he had on his wife.

  Moments later, the three oldest girls were on their feet, just steps away from Alysander and Moirra.

  “Why do ye call him Alysander?” Mariote asked, breaking the locked gaze between husband and wife. The young woman looked puzzled, but not angry. Esa and Muriale were smiling happily.

  Moirra paled visibly and trembled slightly. Alysander took her hand in his and looked at the three lasses before him.

  “Lasses,” he said, giving Moirra’s hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “We need to talk.”

  Fourteen

  Moirra’s daughters took the news well enough. Though Alysander expected Mariote to grow angry with learning his real name and the story behind how he and Moirra had met, the young woman surprised him. Instead of carrying on as she might have weeks ago, he was relieved that she hadn’t kicked him, or worse yet, pulled out her sgian dubh and stabbed him. Instead, she took the news in a mature fashion. The three younger girls thought it made a fine story of love, like those they had heard about their grandparents.

  As soon as he and Moirra were done explaining the way of things, Alysander set off for Thomas McGregor’s home. He returned some two hours later, with the McGregor brothers, the sister, and much needed supplies. Absent was Thomas McGregor himself.

  When Alysander had first appeared at the McGregor home, Thomas answered the door. Alysander quickly explained what had happened and asked for assistance. Had one of the brothers not been there, Thomas would have sent Alysander away empty-handed.

  James and Phillip each let loose with whistles of surprise. “Och!” James said with a shake of his head when he dismounted. “Ye’ve lost everythin’!”

  His sister Deirdre rolled her eyes at him as she slid down from her own mount. “James, be kind!”

  Moirra laughed at the two bickering siblings, rushed forward and gave Deirdre a hug. “I be so glad yer here,” she said.

  Deirdre gave a quick nod and looked about the yard. “Where be the dog?” she asked, not wanting to waste any precious time.

  “We moved him into the barn,” Moirra said as she led the way inside the barn.

  A bed of straw had been made for Wulver. Atop it, Esa had placed her apron, and Wulver was resting on top of it. Orabilis was holding his head in her lap, tenderly caressing his snout and whispering words of encouragement to him. She looked concerned, yet relieved to see Deirdre approach.

  “He’s hurt bad,” Orabilis explained. “He fought three wolves to protect me and Muriale.”

  Deirdre smiled at Orabilis as she knelt beside the animal and began an immediate inspection. Moirra did not like the worried look she saw on Deirdre’s face.

  After a quick examination, Deirdre began pulling linens and poultices from her bag. “Ye poor beast,” she said softly.

  “Will he die?” Orabilis asked, looking forlorn and grief stricken. “He canna die. He’s such a good dog.”

  “I’ll do me best, Orabilis,” Deirdre told her. “Esa? Muriale? I need water please. Warm if ye can manage it.”

  Esa and Muriale rushed out of the barn. Mariote looked just as concerned and worried over the animal as Orabilis. “Orabilis, mayhap ye should come with me. We’ll wash up and help Alysander and the others with the supplies.”

  Orabilis shook her head. “Nay, he needs me,” she whispered as she bent and kissed Wulver’s snout.

  “Aye, he does,” Deirdre agreed. “But yer clothes be covered in soot. Ye need to be clean if ye want to help him.”

  Orabilis sighed, kissed Wulver again before carefully lifting his head. “I won’t be long, Wulver, I promise.”

  Moirra waited until the girls were out of the barn before turning back to Deirdre. “He’s going to die, isn’t he?”

  Deirdre shook her head. “No’ if I have anythin’ to say about it.”

  * * *

  With the help of the McGregor brothers, they soon had the barn converted as best they could, to temporary living quarters. The milk cow was removed from her stall and given a temporary home out of doors. Her stall was mucked before being scrubbed clean and a thick blanket of fresh straw put down. The girls were gi
ven the loft while Alysander and Moirra took the cow’s stall for their own space to sleep. ’Twasn’t as grand as a castle, but ’twas better than sleeping out of doors on the cold ground.

  Before the sun went down, the McGregor brothers had fashioned a large bed complete with straw-and-heather-stuffed mattress and clean linens procured from their own home. Water was heated and everyone bathed and donned clean clothes also donated by the McGregor's. Word had spread and people from surrounding farms began to appear with offers of help. Some brought food, others blankets, and still others any item of clothing they could spare.

  Deirdre had explained that it would be days before they’d know if Wulver would make a full recovery. The family was hopeful, and Moirra agreed that if the dog recovered, Orabilis could keep him as a pet. The child was beside herself with glee over that bit of news. Her joy was short-lived when Moirra refused to allow her to sleep on the floor next to her new pet.

  “Wulver? Ye have to get better so that I can keep ye,” Orabilis whispered into the poor dog’s ear repeatedly throughout the evening.

  People came and went long after dark, offering condolences and offers of help. Moirra introduced her husband by his true name and with each introduction, Alysander’s smile intensified. He was a proud man but gratefully accepted the offers of help for he knew they couldn’t recover without them.

  Epilogue

  Alysander waited impatiently for Moirra to tuck their daughters into bed in their temporary loft quarters. He was quite glad that Moirra had introduced him by his real name to everyone who had come to help. He had grown quite weary of stealing beautiful nights with Moirra and having to pretend during the day that naught was between them. The pretending, the lies all went against everything he believed in.

  He could hear the soft whispers from the girls as Moirra hugged them for what was probably the hundredth time that night. So relieved she was that no real harm had come to her children, she could not stop hugging them or kissing the tops of their heads. Alysander could find no fault in how she felt, for he, too, was much relieved. Still, he waited anxiously for her, pacing about the converted cattle stall. A lone candle sat on a trunk tucked into the corner.