by Alisa Adams
They rode along in silence for a while. Vanora looked back at her father’s body, and although he was shrouded in a blanket, she could see his face clearly in her mind. Soon that face would be gone forever.
“Ye will see him again,” Rory said as if reading her mind.
“I know,” Vanora replied. “In heaven.” But that thought would not help her today.
“What were ye doing on the road?” he asked. “Ladies do not usually come this way.”
“Hunting rabbits,” Vanora replied. “My father gives—gave—them to the poor if he had enough. I will never be able to look at another rabbit without thinking of my father.”
“Then think o’ the good memories ye had,” he advised, but his face was grim. “Banish the bad ones.”
“You sound as though you have had the same experience,” she remarked.
He said nothing, but by the look on his face, she had a feeling that he was hiding something. They rode on, and Rory turned off the path for a moment to show her where he had hidden what was left of the robbers’ bodies.
Vanora shuddered as she saw what was left of them. It was obvious that something had been eating them because they had been disemboweled and the flesh had been partly stripped from their bones, which were now gleaming white in the sunlight. A fleshless arm lay a few yards away from one of the corpses. Their masks had been shredded, their eyes gouged out by scavenging birds, and flies buzzed around them in clouds.
Vanora felt sick and turned her head away, but Rory walked into the carnage and felt in the pockets of what was left of the bandits’ clothes, looking for something that would identify them. However, he came up empty-handed and climbed back into the cart.
“What has been eating them?” Vanora asked. Her curiosity had overcome her revulsion.
“By the footprints,” he replied, “it looks like wolves, wild boars, an’ crows.”
“What will you do with them?” Vanora asked, looking back at the nightmarish scene as they resumed their journey. She was glad that she had retrieved her father’s corpse before the same thing had happened to him.
“I will let the wild animals hae their fill,” he replied grimly, “an’ then burn the bones. They dinnae deserve a decent burial. That should only be for good folk.”
“Like my father,” she murmured. Then she asked, “You do not like to go into the village. Why is that?”
“I go tae sell wood, an’ buy things I need,” he replied, but the tone of his voice was a warning, and he said nothing more. He had not answered her question, but she felt instinctive that it would be unwise to pursue the matter. Perhaps Rory thought she was being too inquisitive—after all, he was probably a recluse for a good reason, but then again, perhaps he had something to hide?
Vanora was not aware that she was staring at him until he looked around and their eyes met. For a moment, neither could look away. She saw his eyes darken, just as hers did, and something passed between them, some elemental force of attraction that both of them felt, but neither could acknowledge.
Vanora broke the spell first. Now is not the time to be diverted by some romantic fantasy! she told herself angrily. She looked up into the sky and remarked, “It is about to rain. We had better hurry.”
The rain she had predicted came on a little while later, and Vanora’s first thought was for her father’s body. They were too far away from the cottage to turn back, and there was still a fair distance to travel.
Rory, sensing her anxiety, steered the cart off the road into a dense stand of trees where the rain was not falling so heavily, and they waited for the worst to be over. There was no conversation between them, merely an awkward silence that neither seemed able to break.
Vanora had put her cloak over her father’s body for a little extra protection from the rain. Somehow she could not rid herself of the idea that he was still alive. She was shivering, then she felt Rory’s arms going around her, wrapping them both in his cloak.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
She felt the rumble of his voice against her face. “I couldnae let a lady freeze,” he replied.
“I feel less afraid now that you are with me,” she sighed. “A woman alone is
very easy prey. I think after yesterday I need a bodyguard. Would you take
the job?”
He shook his head emphatically. “No,” he replied. “I did what I did the other day because I had tae, but I wouldnae like tae dae it again.”
“If you were my bodyguard I would pay you, and pay you well,” Vanora stated firmly, and there was such an appeal in her beautiful silver eyes that he almost gave in.
He shook his head. “No. I like my life just as it is, milady. I like tae be by myself in my ain house. It is quiet and peaceful, an’ there is naebody to tell me what to dae. I am happy where I am.” He looked up at the sky. The rain had stopped and the clouds were clearing, but Vanora did not want to go anywhere.
“Why do you need to be alone?” she asked. “Are you afraid of people?”
For a moment she thought he was going to hit her, so fierce was his scowl.
“No, milady,” he said angrily. “But I dinnae like to be bothered wi’ them. Now if ye’re finished askin’ a’ these questions, can we go?”
She nodded, feeling ashamed of her inquisitiveness.
They climbed onto the carriage again and were soon within sight of the village of Gairloch. It was a very small place; only a few houses strung in a row along the seafront where ships from the Hebrides and Skye dropped anchor to unload and pick up supplies from mainland Scotland.
Vanora had always lived in this tiny place that was constantly battered by fierce gale force winds and driving downpours from the Irish Sea. Even worse were the blizzards in winter. But despite all this, she would never have wanted to live anywhere else. Home for her was where the seagulls mewled, the air smelled of salt and seaweed, and the fishing boats docked every day laden with cargoes of delicious silverfish. Heat and sunny climes were not for her. She was a strong and proud Scot, with all the strength and vigor of her nation.
The castle stood half a mile beyond the town, halfway up a steep brae that dropped straight into the sea. It was not a high imposing one, but it was long, sprawling, and enormous.
As they drew closer to the castle, Vanora’s heart became laden with dread. In a moment she would have to tell her sisters that their beloved father was dead, and she knew they would be inconsolable, especially Ella, who had always been her father’s special girl.
When they arrived at the bridge over the moat, the guards cheered and ran out to meet her.
“Milady! We were that worried! Where have ye been?”
“I will tell you later, Joe,” she said urgently. “Let me pass, please.”
The two guards stood aside and the cart containing her father’s body rumbled in. Vanora squared her shoulders. This was the moment she had dreaded.
4
When the cart stopped in the courtyard a few minutes later, Rory realized that he had underestimated the sheer size of the castle. The courtyard they were in would have accommodated his cottage twice over.
He was so engrossed in what was around him that he had no idea of the impact he was making with height and bulk. The passing maids could not keep their eyes off him, and even the armed guards looked a little wary.
Vanora gave instructions that no one should touch the cart or tell her sisters that she had arrived, then she sent for the housekeeper, Mrs. Kerr.
“Come with me, please, Rory,” she requested. She felt much better now that she was in her own home, but she dreaded the next few moments.
Rory looked upward at the roof above him as he passed through the main entrance. It was adorned with all manner of images, both biblical and mythological, and was at least thirty feet off the ground. The floor was made of checkered marble and each majestic doorway had a Gothic Arch at the top, which was a shield bearing the Weir coat of arms. It was a magnificent building, and the thought came to him that
Laird Weir had been very rich and likely very powerful. He wondered whether he had equally rich and powerful enemies.
He followed Vanora into a little parlor where she and her father and sisters had often played chess and dice. She sat down wearily then poured both herself and Rory a glass of wine.
Rory had never tasted wine before and licked his lips appreciatively as he sipped it.
“Do you like it?” Vanora asked, trying to smile.
“Aye,” he replied with enthusiasm.
Just then, the door burst open and a tall middle-aged redheaded woman hurtled through it. She rushed up to Vanora and gazed at her with profound relief. Trying to keep her composure, Vanora told her what had happened. Mrs. Kerr burst into tears.
“No’ the laird, mistress!” she cried, shaking her head. “He was such a good man!”
“I have to tell my sisters.” Vanora had begun to weep now too. “Please have the village ladies come to lay my father out and we can begin to organize the funeral.”
The housekeeper left, but the door had hardly shut behind her when Marion and Ella rushed in.
“Where have you been, Vanora?” Ella asked anxiously, throwing herself into her sister’s arms. Vanora embraced her tightly.
“What happened to you? And where is Father?” She looked around for him and caught sight of the enormous figure of Rory standing by the window. Her mouth dropped open. “And who is he?”
“This is Rory, and he is a friend. Rory, can you wait for me?” He nodded, then they left to go upstairs to Vanora’s bedroom. Once there, she sat them on her bed, took one of each of their hands in her own, then looked at each of them in turn. “I have something very bad to tell you.” She took a deep breath. “Father is dead.”
For a moment there was an incredulous silence, then Ella burst into tears. Marion looked puzzled, as if she had heard something she could not quite understand. “Dead?” she asked, mystified. “That cannot be true! You are lying!”
“Oh, God, Marion.” Tears began to run down Vanora’s cheeks again. “I wish I were.”
“No!” Marion screamed. “You are lying! I do not believe you!” Her blue eyes were dark with fury, and she launched herself at her sister, who was cowering back in her chair, hands over her face. Marion held her fingers opened up like claws, ready to scratch Vanora’s soft cheeks. Vanora caught her sister by the wrists and held her while she screamed with rage and grief. She would like to have done the same, but now she had to be strong and set an example for her sisters.
When Marion’s sobs died down, Vanora let go of her.
“I am sorry,” Marion whispered. She stood up and hugged her sister tightly. “I am sorry, Vanora. I don’t know what came over me.” She sat down beside Vanora and laid her head on her shoulder.
“We are all upset.” Vanora kissed her sister’s forehead, then began to tell them the whole story.
When she had finished, Marion asked, “What happened to the bandits? Did they get away? If so, we must find them.”
“We know where they are,” Vanora’s voice was full of contempt. “Rory—the big man outside? He killed them, and he has taken their bodies away to burn them. They have been preyed on by some wild animals, and they will never rob anyone again.”
“A small mercy,” Marion said sadly.
Vanora embraced them both and all three held each other for a moment, taking comfort from their warmth and closeness.
“Let us go out and see Rory,” Vanora suggested. “You must thank him, for without him I would not be here. He saved my life.”
They went downstairs to where Rory was standing in the parlor, staring down into the fire and looking enormous in the small room. Both sisters curtsied to him and timidly proffered their thanks.
“You were very brave,” Marion said, with a tremor in her voice.
“I did what I could,” he replied, his deep voice soft with pity. “I am sorry for yer loss.”
“Stay and eat with us,” Vanora begged. “Please.”
“No, thank ye,” he replied. “I have business in the village.”
Vanora’s face fell. “I will see you out,” she said softly. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything you have done for us.”
“I only wish I could bring your father back.”
Vanora walked out with him and when they came to the main entrance she thanked him again. “I will let you know when the funeral is arranged, and you can come if you wish. I know he would want you to, but it is entirely your decision.”
He smiled. “I will think about it. Look after yerself, milady, an’ if there is anything ye need, send for me.”
“Likewise,” she replied. She watched him walk away, wishing he would come back and talk to her for just a little while longer. He was a strange mixture of kindness and ferocity, and she was extremely glad she had met him. She would be even more so in the months to come.
Rory was deeply confused by his encounter with Lady Vanora. He felt a strange tangle of feelings. As a man, his body desired her, and he was ashamed of that because he hardly knew her. As well as that he felt guilty; he was betraying the memory of the love of his life, Elisaid, and he wondered if she was angry with him as she looked down from heaven. And he would not have been human if he had not felt some regret about the lives he had ended the day before. He shook his head in despair. He needed a drink to strengthen him before he went home, and he knew just where to get one.
Rory went straight to his favorite tavern when he got to Gairloch. All the emotional strain of the last few hours had taken its toll on him and he was weary in body and mind. He had to duck under the door’s lintel, but he was used to that and had never banged his head on it.
His best and only friend was Brian McGregor—the owner of the best tavern in Gairloch—who had grown up with Rory ever since they lived next door to each other. Compared to everyone else in the village Brian was tall, but next to the towering figure of Rory he was diminutive, and so was everyone else. As well as being the owner, Brian also served the drinks, helped by his wife Elisha, who was expecting the couple’s sixth child at any moment. Rory felt sorry for her; she was huge, irritable, and always sick. He had often thought that a woman’s lot was very unfair compared to that of a man, and that was why he tried to treat them with gentleness.
“How are ye, Ellie?” he asked, his voice soft and concerned.
She beamed at him; he was one of her favorite people. “I am just as ye see me, Rory—fat an’ fed up!”
“How long now?” he asked, smiling. He came to deliver wood here once a month, so he had watched this baby grow from a seed to a sapling.
“Any time now, we think.” She sighed and stretched her back, grimacing. She was about to go and fetch some empty goblets from the tables by the fireplace, but he stopped her. He swept her off her feet, put her down in one of the chairs, then took the empty goblets away and came back with a full glass of ale for her. She looked up at him with adoration in her blue eyes.
“Thank ye so much, Rory,” she sighed.
“Nae bother, hen.” He smiled and walked back to Brian, who had set a goblet of whiskey down for him, then he said, “The laird is deid. Killed yesterday by robbers.”
Brian’s eyes widened and his expression changed to one of open-mouthed shock. Laird Weir had been loved and respected in the village, and he was going to be difficult to replace. Rory told them the story, playing down his heroic part of the rescue, and they sat stunned for a moment.
“But the laird had nae sons,” Brian said eventually. “Who will get everythin’?”
Rory shrugged. “Whoever Lady Vanora marries, I expect,” he replied.
“Poor wee lassie,” Elisha said sadly.
“Aye,” Brian agreed. “They will likely marry her off tae some eejit* wi’ nae money an’ even less sense, an’ they will only be after her fortune. She will have naebody tae look after her now.”
“She is only seventeen,” Rory said regretfully, shaking his head. “She is no’ rea
lly able tae stand up for herself. They can push her aboot any way they like, an’ she is that young…” He trailed off.
Rory realized with a stab of guilt that this was true. I should have stayed wi’ her, he thought. I deserted her just when she needed me.
“She asked me to stay an’ be her bodyguard an’ I said no,” Rory said angrily. “I should have stayed an’ helped her!” He thumped his fists down on the countertop and it shuddered with the force of the blow. Elisha jumped and put her hand over her stomach as if to protect her baby.
“Careful,” Brian warned, glancing at his wife. “Ye dinnae know yer own strength.”
“Sorry, Ellie,” Rory said regretfully. “I forget sometimes.” He turned back to Brian. “I killed four men yesterday, Brian, an’ yet I am findin’ it hard tae be sorry. They a’ deserved what they got. I have more regrets about sayin’ no tae Vanora.”
Brian looked at his enormous friend and smiled. “Ye must have been pushed very hard, Rory. I know ye, ye’re as soft as butter.”
Rory smiled ruefully and stood up, then put his hand in his money pouch, but Brian waved away the payment. “Yer money isnae any good here, Rory. Away wi ye, ya big lump!”
“Thank ye, Brian, Ellie.” He waved and left.
“That man needs a good wife,” Elisha said sadly.
“Well, he’s no’ havin’ mine!” Brian laughed as he put his arms around her.
5
“I hate wearing black all the time,” Ella said grumpily. “What good does it do? It will not bring Father back, and I miss him so much.” She was staring into the fire, something she had taken to doing a lot since her father had passed away. Vanora was trying to keep everyone’s spirits up, but the only person she could count on for any support was Mrs. Kerr, and she could only help her with household matters. For emotional support, the sisters only had each other to cling to.
Vanora felt sometimes as if she was in some sort of waking nightmare. All she wanted was her father to walk in and put his arms around all of them at the end of the day, make up silly stories for them, and listen to their woes. How trivial they all seemed now! But such seemingly unimportant trifles made up much of the fabric of her life. Now she would have to not only look after the house and supervise the servants but take care of the emotional needs of her sisters without neglecting herself. The burden seemed brutally heavy. Could she bear it?
