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

by Suzan Tisdale

  But Alysander did know the truth. Moirra had not killed anyone. Her only misdeed was to trust Delmar Wilgart. Trusting the man had been a mistake. Now, it appeared as though she would have to pay for that mistake with her life.

  Alysander glanced at his three stepdaughters who sat next to him on the long bench. Tears streamed down Mariote’s face, Esa’s lips were drawn into a thin hard line, and Muriale looked ready to take Almer Wilgart’s life. Knowing Orabilis was all too keen on war, they had left her with Phillip McGregor and his wife. If not for her own safety, then for the safety of those around her.

  Oh, how he wished he had possessed the funds to hire someone from Edinburgh or Stirling to act as legal counsel for his wife! Instead, all he had at the moment was William McGregor. Although Alysander did like the man, there was still the question on where William’s fealty lay; with his brother, Thomas, and the sheriff, or with justice? Only time would tell.

  * * *

  The crown, or in this case, Almer Wilgart, would be the first to speak and to question Moirra. He stood off to one side so that he could see Moirra as well as the crowded benches filled with onlookers eager to watch as a woman’s life hung in the balance.

  “Nearly three weeks ago, the body of Delmar Wilgart was found. Or what was left of it,” he spoke loudly, attempting to appear as though he knew what he was doing. “Lyin’ in a grassy field, with bugs and scavengers feastin’ upon him as if he were a rack of lamb.”

  The mental image he painted made Moirra feel sick to her stomach. The hatred and vehemence she saw on the faces of the onlookers when she chanced a furtive glance toward them, chilled her to the bone. She knew a few of them and found it baffling that those people who Delmar had cheated or bullied over the years, now appeared as though they mourned his loss. It hit her then, as jarring as being tossed into a frozen loch; they hated her more than they hated Delmar Wilgart.

  Almer continued to drone on about what a good man Delmar had been. To hear Almer speak, Delmar should be sainted and Moirra should burn at the stake.

  “I find it more than a bit odd that all of Moirra Dundotter’s husbands are dead,” Almer said, shaking his head as if the facts saddened him.

  William McGregor stood and asked, “Are ye blamin’ Moirra fer the deaths of her first two husbands?”

  Almer turned to face him with a hateful glare. “Do ye no’ find it suspicious that a woman has three dead husbands?”

  William chuckled. “Was no’ yer own mum married four times?”

  “Shut yer mouth, William! Me mum is no’ on trial here!” Almer shouted.

  William raised a curious brow. “’Tis a good thing we do no’ put anyone on trial fer bein’ married more than once, elst the cemetery would be bigger than the village.”

  The onlookers laughed at William’s statement, but it only made Almer angrier.

  Finnis knocked the block of wood against his table three times to bring some order to the room. To William, he said, “Sit, ye’ll get yer chance to speak soon enough.” He then turned his attention to Almer. “How did Moirra’s first two husbands die?”

  Almer stammered his reply. “What does it matter?”

  “It matters because ye brought it up, Almer. Ye said ye found it odd that all of her husbands be dead, which leads me to believe ye think she killed them as well.” He did not wait for a response. Instead, he looked at Moirra. “Lass, how did yer first two husbands die?”

  Moirra swallowed hard before answering. “Me first died of the ague, as did a dozen others in Glenkirby. Me second died in battle against the English, in ’51, at Glen Ross.”

  “Were ye at the battle of Glen Ross?” Finnis asked.

  The crowd laughed aloud at his question.

  “Nay, m’laird, I was no’. I was at home birthin’ his child, me youngest daughter, Orabilis.”

  She could hear soft murmurs coming from the onlookers, but could not understand any of those hushed whispers.

  Finnis rested an index finger against his temple. “Almer, do ye still think she killed her first two husbands?”

  “Mayhap nay, but I still believe she murdered me brother, Delmar Wilgart, and I intend to prove it.” His tone was unyielding and quite determined.

  * * *

  Undeterred, Almer turned his attention back to Moirra. The man was fully determined to prove to the world that Moirra had killed his brother.

  “Did ye no’ tell me that ye and Delmar had decided to end yer handfastin’ early?” Almer asked as he stood between Moirra and Finnis.

  Moirra gave a solemn nod. “Aye, I did,” she answered. “I also told ye ’twas a mutual agreement.”

  Almer asked his next question before she even had time to fully answer the last. “And did ye no’ also tell me that Delmar said he was goin’ to Inverness?”

  Moirra swallowed hard before answering. “Aye, I did.”

  Almer looked quite pleased with her answer and even managed to smile down at her. “Where is Inverness, from yer lands?”

  Her heart pounded against her breast, for she knew where he was leading her with his questions. “At least a three week ride north of me lands.”

  “To the north, ye say?” Almer asked, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

  “Aye,” she whispered, willing her stomach to settle.

  Almer gave a slow nod as he began pacing in front of her with his hands clasped behind his back. He might pretend he was an all-important man with a brilliant mind for deduction, but Moirra knew the truth. He was an arrogant fool.

  “Pray tell me then, why we found Delmar Wilgart’s body some ten miles south of yer lands?”

  Because that is where we took his pathetic dead body, ye fool! But she couldn’t very well tell him the truth. “I do no’ ken.” She hadn’t thought much about it at the time, reasoning that no one would miss Delmar. It had been a terrifying night to begin with and she hadn’t been thinking clearly.

  “Why would a man goin’ north, to Inverness, first head south?” Almer asked, as if he truly did care to know the answer.

  “I do no’ ken,” she whispered.

  Almer spun and glared at Moirra. “Ye do no’ ken?” he ground out. “Ye do no’ ken? What do ye ken, Moirra Wilgart?”

  The name Wilgart felt like an insult, a slap in the face. Moirra lifted her head and found her voice just long enough to correct him. “Me name be Moirra McCullum,” she told him, drawing on what little energy she had left.

  Almer came to stand but inches from her and leaned in. “I do no’ care what ye say yer name be, ye killed me brother and for that I shall see ye hang.”

  He was so close that she could smell his breath. It stunk of ale and ham. The nausea roiled as bile climbed up her throat. Swallowing hard, fighting to remain calm, she looked him in the eye. “I did no’ kill yer brother.”

  “Then who did?” he asked, his voice harsh, his words clipped.

  “I do no’ ken,” she whispered before the world began to spin out of control.

  “Ye lie!”

  Almer’s voice screaming at her was the last thing she remembered before the world turned black and she collapsed on the floor.

  * * *

  Gasps of surprise filled the room as Alysander leapt over the table where William was sitting, to reach his wife. He and Deirdre arrived almost simultaneously.

  He lifted her head into his lap and took her hand in his. Her skin was cold and clammy, which stood in stark contrast to the boiling anger that grew deep in his belly. “Moirra,” he whispered her name repeatedly.

  Deirdre took Moirra’s other hand and felt for a pulse as she felt her forehead. Deirdre began searching the room with her eyes. When they locked on Almer Wilgart, she seethed. “Ye bloody fool!”

  “I did no’ touch her!” Almer said defensively as he stood a few steps away.

  “Moirra,” Alysander whispered. “Moirra, please, lass, wake up.”

  Soon the trio was surrounded by Moirra’s daughters. “Mum!” Mariote cried out a
s she knelt on the floor. Esa and Muriale were in tears, hovering behind Mariote.

  Alysander was not paying any attention to the back and forth taking place between Deirdre and Almer. His only concern was Moirra. He continued to plead with her to open her eyes, to not die. She lay so cold and still in his arms that his anger was suddenly replaced with fear. What will I do without ye?

  “Deirdre?” he asked, looking to her for help.

  Deirdre sighed heavily before shouting for someone to bring her water and a cloth. “She made me swear no’ to tell ye, Alysander.”

  “Tell me what?” he asked, confusion and worry etched in his face.

  “She carries yer child, Alysander,” Deirdre explained. “She be two months along now.”

  The words hit Alysander like a blow to the chest. Pride, worry, fear, dread, and anger, all blended together in the pit of his stomach. She carries me babe?

  He looked down at his pale, gaunt wife. Why did she want the news kept from him? The answer was simple and it shattered his heart. If she were to die, she did not want him to know she took their child with her. She was sacrificing herself and their babe to save her four daughters. Moirra knew that not much could be done to save herself without giving up Muriale, an innocent eleven-year-old little girl, her own flesh and blood. His anger and grief intensified.

  When Deirdre next spoke, her voice bordered on murderous. “Almer Wilgart, if this woman dies, her death will be on yer head. Ye ken she didna kill yer brother!”

  “I ken no such thing, woman!” Almer shouted over the din of excitement that was building in the room. “I tell ye she killed me brother! I do no’ ken why and I do no’ rightly care, but she killed him as sure as I be standin’ here!”

  Finnis had left his seat and was now crouched down to gain a better look at Moirra. Having enough of the arguing between Almer and Deirdre, he shouted, “Enough! Enough, I say!”

  All eyes turned to look at Finnis, whose face had turned a dark shade of red. His anger was unmistakable. “Take her back to her cell,” he told Deirdre.

  “Nay!” Mariote and Esa shouted in unison. “She’s ill!”

  “I ken she’s ill,” he told the two girls, the edge not quite erased from his voice. “ We will take her back to her cell so the healer can tend to her better, without all these eyes upon her.”

  Deirdre let go of Moirra’s hand and stood. “M’laird,” she began calmly, “if ye send Moirra back to that filthy cell, she will surely die before dawn.” She paused to let her words sink in. “They feed her nothing but bread and the occasional bit of cheese. The cell is cold and wet. Moirra is with child and she will certainly die if Almer continues to treat her so poorly.”

  Almer stepped forward, his anger barely under control. “I treat her no differently than any other murderer!”

  Deirdre spun to face him. “Ye ken she didna kill Delmar! Moirra would no’ kill anyone and ye well know it!”

  “Me brother did no’ kill himself, ye bloody fool!” Almer shouted back. Spittle formed in the corner of his mouth. “I warned him that she’d be the death of him, but he would no’ listen! She killed him! I ken she killed him!”

  * * *

  While Deirdre and Almer argued, Alysander had remained on the floor, cradling his wife in his lap. She carried his babe. Nay, their babe. If he didn’t do something and do it quickly, Moirra would die. Either by hanging or from the ill treatment she had received these past weeks. Either way, she would be dead in a matter of hours.

  Tears welled in his eyes as his heart continued to splinter inside his chest. Moirra, her daughters, they had given him the most precious gift any man could ever ask for. They had given him a home. The one thing he had longed for since he was a boy and his mother died. These women had filled the dark emptiness that had at one time consumed his life. Love, hope, and a real family; a family who cared so deeply for one another that they were willing to either kill or die in order to protect one another.

  Alysander had not received that same kind of devotion from his own blood kin; at least not since his mother’s death. If Moirra died, he knew nothing in his life would ever be the same. Her death would destroy her four daughters. It would destroy him.

  Without Moirra in his life, his life was not worth living.

  He looked up at the three oldest daughters of Moirra Dundotter-McCullum. Tear-streaked faces and eyes filled with worry and pain stared back at him. Muriale swallowed hard, swiped away a tear, and turned away. She was walking toward the dais. Alysander knew then what her intent was and it shook him to his very soul.

  In that infinitesimal moment between one heartbeat and the next, he knew what he must do.

  Tenderly, he kissed Moirra’s cheek, wiped a tear from his own, and stood to his full height. Looking to Finnis, he said, “Moirra did no’ kill Delmar Wilgart.”

  His voice had been low, yet firm, and drew everyone’s attention away from Deirdre and Almer. Finnis stood to face his friend. He had the sneaky suspicion that his friend was about to do something quite foolish.

  “Moirra did no’ kill Delmar,” he said again, his voice growing in volume and strength. “I did.”

  Eleven

  Astonished gasps broke out in waves across the room. Almer was frozen in place, his face a blend of incredulity and fury. “Ye lie,” he ground out as he went to stand before Alysander. “Ye lie!”

  Mariote, Esa and Muriale all rushed forward, to plead with Alysander. “Please, Alysander, ye canna do this!”

  Alysander turned away from the dais and drew the girls in to his chest. He hugged them tightly for a long moment, all the while Almer pleaded with Finnis to put an end to what he referred to as a travesty of justice.

  “Mariote,” Alysander whispered. “Please, take care of yer mum. Ye ken why I do this, lass. I can no’ let yer mum sacrifice herself and our babe fer somethin’ she didna do.”

  Mariote choked on a sob. “But ye didna do it either!” she pleaded.

  He hugged her again. “Please, Mariote, take yer sisters from here. Wait outside for Deirdre, please.”

  “Nay, Alysander!”

  He smiled, kissed the top of each of their heads and smiled. “Please, do no’ argue on this. Yer mum needs ye more than me.” He hugged them once again before turning back to face Finnis.

  “Alysander,” Finnis said as he did his best to hide his true feelings. “Are ye sayin’ ye killed Delmar Wilgart?”

  Alysander lifted his head and stood tall and proud. “Aye, I am.”

  “Ye lie!” Almer shouted angrily. “Yer only sayin’ this to save yer worthless wife!”

  The ends of his patience had been reached. Blinded with fury, Alysander drew back his fist and hit Almer Wilgart in his arrogant face. Blood spurted from the man’s nose as he fell backward and onto the floor. Before Alysander could hit him again, four men were wrestling him to the floor.

  * * *

  While the sheriff’s men were getting Alysander under control, William, who had yet to say a word, scooped Moirra into his arms and removed her from the room. Deirdre and Moirra’s daughters were right behind him.

  Having heard no protests or calls to halt, William left the building and headed for the public stables. Once there, he propped Moirra up between Deirdre and Mariote long enough to mount his horse. “We’ll take her to our cottage,” he said as he lifted Moirra up and sat her on his lap.

  “But they’ve no’ set her free yet,” Mariote reminded him.

  William smiled down at her. “I do no’ truly care,” he said. “I made a promise to Alysander and I intend to keep it.” While Moirra shivered and mumbled incoherently, William pressed her head against his chest. “For the love of Christ, get her daughters out of here at once,” he told Deirdre.

  Without uttering another word, William tapped the flanks of his horse and headed out of the village.

  * * *

  Once some semblance of control was regained, Finnis returned to the dais and banged the block of wood against the table. Almer�
�s nose had finally stopped bleeding and Finnis thought he looked like a man bordering that fine line between sanity and madness.

  Alysander stood with his hands bound behind his back, looking quite determined to either proceed with his earlier proclamation of guilt or kill Almer should he say another disparaging word against his wife. Finnis gave an inward shake of his head. He was quite certain his friend had lost his mind for he could not come up with another reason for his behavior and proclamation.

  “Alysander,” Finnis said, his voice breaking through the silence that had filled the room. “Why do ye confess to this crime?”

  Alysander pulled his shoulders back and looked Finnis directly in the eyes. “I canna let me wife hang fer a crime she did no’ commit.”

  Before Finnis could comment or ask another question, Almer was in a rage again. “He lies! He was nowhere near Glenkirby when me brother went missin’!”

  Alysander ignored his statement. “I fell in love with Moirra and wanted her for meself. She did no’ ken I felt that way about her, but I knew she’d no’ break her promise to Delmar. So I killed him so I could have her to meself.”

  “Bah!” Almer said with a shake of his head. “How did ye kill him?”

  “I shoved a dirk in his back,” Alysander answered without looking at him. “Then I took him some ten miles or so south of Moirra’s home and buried him in a shallow grave.”

  “Ye only ken that because ye learned it this day,” Almer growled, his face turning purple with anger.

  “Nay,” Alysander said calmly. “Ye only told us where the body was found, not how ’twas buried.” He had basically recounted the story Mariote and Muriale and told him weeks ago, after Moirra had been arrested. Alysander had information that Almer didn’t and that gave him a succinct advantage. Or, at least, he hoped it did. The rest of what he knew he kept to himself. If he divulged too much, he worried it could be used against Moirra at some future time.