Lachlan's Heart: Book Two of The MacCulloughs

by Suzan Tisdale

  Keevah refused to give any weight to that statement. “He verra well may have, but ye and the MacCulloughs would have kept her safe. I ken that in my heart.”

  There would be no arguing that point further, at least not for a while. Lachlan knew she was bereft and grieving. Logic rarely figured into one’s mind or heart when a person was suffering so.

  Changing the subject for now, he asked, “Why was she brought here? And how did Madam Euphemie know where to find ye?”

  “Women know about Euphemie’s good heart. She has helped more than one woman escape the horrors of a bad husband.” She sniffled and snuggled into his chest. “And she knew how to find me because I used to work here.”

  It took every ounce of energy he had not to react to the news. Here? Of all places?

  He supposed he should find some comfort in knowing she worked here instead of the dark alleys and dangerous streets. His encounter with Euphemie had been brief. Brief as it was, he felt certain she was a good woman who would protect those who worked for her.

  “That surprises ye, aye?” she asked. Afraid to look into his eyes, she remained firmly rooted with her head against his chest.

  “Truth be told lass, it does. But it matters not.”

  He felt her relax against him further. He was truly glad he had come here and for the wise advice Euphemie had given him. Had he not come when he did, then Keevah would be grieving all alone. The thought of her going through this by herself made his heart ache.

  “How did ye get here?” Certainly, Richard hadn’t allowed her to come all this way alone.

  “Aeschene made Richard give me an escort. They are stayin’ at an inn down the street.”

  Although he knew Richard wouldn’t have allowed her to come alone, he was still relieved at the news. “My men and I will escort ye away from here.”

  “I cannae leave just yet,” she said. “I must tend to Kiernan’s burial first.”

  While he wanted nothing more than to leave Inverness, he wasn’t about to leave her alone. “I understand. But ye look done in, lass. Mayhap ye should rest, just a bit?”

  Before she could protest further, Euphemie came into the room. In her hands a silver tray filled with the promised warm cider. She placed it on the table in front of the chaise. “He is right, Keevah. Ye need rest.”

  When she tried to argue against leaving, Euphemie simply smiled. “Think of Brigid. She will need ye well rested in the hours to come.”

  “Brigid?” Lachlan asked.

  ’Twas Euphemie who answered the question. “Kiernan’s daughter.”

  The more he learned, the more questions he had. The poor woman. Not only is she quite literally beaten to death, she also leaves behind a daughter.

  “I will be takin’ her with me,” Keevah told him as she sat up. She was staring at the crackling fire in the hearth.

  He almost asked about the child’s father, then realized the idea of turning the child over to such a vile man was repugnant. Even if there were other family members who could or would take the child in, she was undoubtedly safer with Keevah.

  There were dark circles under her red, puffy eyes. Quietly, he wondered when she had last ate or slept. The sheer determination in her countenance told him there would be no arguing with her on the matter of Brigid. The only thing he would argue was that she would not be going home with Keevah. She’d be going home with them. He’d explain the rightness of it later, after she’d had a hot bath, a hearty meal, and a good deal of sleep.

  “We will keep the child safe,” he told her as he took her hand in his. “No matter what.” ‘Twasn’t a promise lightly made. He meant every word of it.

  Her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. Finally, she turned to look into his eyes. “If he could kill his own wife, I doubt he would draw the line at killing her daughter.”

  She’d gain no argument from Lachlan.

  Euphemie cleared her throat to garner their attention. “I think ye and Brigid would be safer here,” she told them. “Dermott could verra well be lookin’ for Kiernan and Brigid now. I suspect he would look at the inns first.”

  Lachlan wasn’t certain the Tickled Pickle was the best place for a child, however he knew there was merit in what Euphemie was saying. “I have men with me,” he said as he stood up. “I will have them stay at the inn down the street. I will stay here with Keevah and the child.”

  Euphemie tilted her head ever so slightly. “Forgive me, but I am surprised ye would agree.”

  Keevah was just as surprised as her old friend.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Even I can see the rightness in it. We must protect the child at all costs. Besides, we will only be here until Kiernan is properly seen to.”

  “I have a large space in the attics,” she informed him. “We have hidden people there before.”

  He gave a short bow at the waist. “Thank ye, Madam Euphemie. Keevah and I will be forever in yer debt.”

  Dawn was just breaking by the time he finished updating his men and giving them instructions. They would stay at the inn on the corner until after the burial of Kiernan MacInnes.

  “Are ye certain ye dunnae wish for at least one of us to stay with ye?” Murdoch asked. There was no underlying mischievousness to his tone. “Ye may need someone to help if the son of whore comes here.”

  Lachlan thought of Euphemie’s guard, Charles. His first duty would be to protect Euphemie. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to have an extra hand, just in case. While he knew without a doubt he could defend himself against Dermott, it would be beneficial to have an extra set of eyes.

  “Verra well,” Lachlan said. “Andrew,” he called out to the oldest MacDougall warrior. “Ye will be in charge of keepin’ the men out of trouble. I want everyone to rest, nae chasin’ bar wenches. Understood?”

  Andrew gave a nod of his blonde head before taking his mount’s reins. He led the rest of the men down the street in search of stables and beds.

  Murdoch followed Lachlan inside and up the stairs to the attics. He knocked once and waited for permission to enter. He didn’t want to catch Keevah unaware. He was met with silence. Assuming she had fallen asleep, he slowly opened the door.

  They had to duck low to enter. There were two small beds that sat on either side of the sloped ceiling. One window, covered with fur, was straight ahead. A small table sat beneath it holding one burning candle.

  Keevah was on the bed to his right with her back to him. He could see nothing else in the dim lighting, so he went to her to pull the covers over her shoulders.

  To say he was stunned was a tremendous understatement.

  Lying next to Keevah was a black-haired little girl with cherubic cheeks and sooty lashes. Even fast asleep and in the dim light of a low flickering candle, he knew this child could belong to only one woman; Keevah.

  She was the spitting image of the woman lying next to her.

  What other secrets do ye have? he mused as he looked from the child to Keevah and back again.

  What other secrets?

  Brigid woke a few hours past dawn. Confused because she didn’t know where she was, she sat up and looked around the room and began to cry sleepily. “Mum? Mum, where are ye?” When she received no immediate response, her crying increased.

  Keevah sat up with a start and pulled the child to her breast. “Wheest, child, wheest.”

  “I want my mum,” she cried.

  “I ken, lass, I ken.”

  Sobbing now, she continued to ask where her mother was. Keevah felt as though her heart was being ripped from her chest. “Brigid, my name is Keevah,” she said in a soothing tone.

  Brigid sniffled and pulled away to look at her. “Mum told me about ye,” she said. “Ye’re my mum’s friend.”

  “Aye, lass, I am,” she smiled warmly at her.

  “Where is mum?”

  Keevah took in a slow, steadying breath, searching for the right words. How does one explain such a thing as a mother dying to a child so young? As she struggled for the word
s, she felt Lachlan sit on the edge of the bed beside her. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. There was such warmth in his eyes that it was nearly her undoing.

  “Brigid, yer mum has gone to heaven,” Keevah told her.

  “Why did she nae take me?” she asked, worry filling her eyes.

  Keevah swallowed back her tears. “When people die and go to heaven, they have to go alone.”

  “Mum died?” she cried, her eyes growing wide. “Like her mum did?”

  Keevah nodded, trying valiantly to hold back the tears.

  “But mum promised she wouldn’t die. She promised!”

  Keevah pulled her back in to hold her again. There was naught she could do but hold her and try to comfort her.

  “Ye will see yer mum again, someday,” Lachlan told her. “But for now, yer mum has asked Keevah and I to take care of ye.”

  The girl turned her head to peek at him. “Who are ye?”

  “I am Lachlan MacCullough,” he told her.

  “I dunnae ken ye,” she said. “I am nae to speak to strangers.”

  Lachlan smiled fondly at her. “That is a verra good rule to follow,” he said. “But I am nae a stranger. I am a verra good friend of Keevah’s.”

  There came a knock upon the door and Murdoch went to answer it. ’Twas Euphemie.

  “Keevah, we have moved her to the kitchens,” she said from the doorway.

  When Keevah tried to stand to leave, Brigid began wailing again. She didn’t want to be left with the two strange men. She wanted her mum or Keevah and no one else.

  “Brigid, let us break our fast while Keevah tends to something important below stairs. I promise ye, Keevah will come back, lass.”

  It took a bit of prodding before she would relinquish her tight hold on Keevah. Lachlan scooped her up and stood to his full height. “We need ye to be a strong lass right now, Brigid. Keevah will be back verra soon.”

  Keevah hurried out the door, leaving one determined Highlander with one equally determined little girl; he intent on keeping her hidden in the attic while she was wholly intent on escaping his clutches.

  In the end, he won. With Murdoch’s help they were able to get the lass calmed down by allowing her to hold a dirk. Murdoch would have let her kick him in the shin if it meant she’d quiet down. ’Twas an utter heartache to see her so distressed.

  “Three days?” Lachlan asked incredulously.

  Keevah could only sigh and shake her head. “The grave digger says the ground is frozen solid. He cannae bury her until it thaws. He thinks the weather will warm in a few days.”

  ’Twas just around noonin’ time when Keevah had returned with the news.

  News Lachlan was not thrilled with. “He ‘thinks’? Lass, I cannae afford to remain here much longer. I have been away from my duties too long as it is.”

  Brigid had taken a liking to Murdoch, for reasons none of them could understand. Sensing the discussion might get a bit heated, he suggested he and Brigid go below stairs in search of a sweet tart or a bit of bread and honey. She readily and happily agreed.

  They waited until the door closed before returning to their discussion. Keevah wrapped her arms around her waist and quirked a pretty brow. Lachlan could see she was angry. “I have nae asked ye to stay, Lachlan. Ye can be on yer way now and back to yer new life. Brigid and I will be fine.”

  He hadn’t meant to upset her. “Keevah, I will nae leave Inverness without ye or Brigid.”

  “And I will nae leave until I have seen to it that my friend has been properly buried."

  “I made a promise to protect ye, both of ye.”

  “I did nae ask ye to make such a promise. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  “Like Kiernan did?” he chided.

  “She was nae strong like me,” Keevah seethed. Her green eyes grew dark with fury. “She was far too tender-hearted.”

  He was about to respond when they heard the most terrifying shriek coming from out of doors. Withdrawing his sword, he went to the window, drew back the fur, and peered out the window. The horrified screaming, continued.

  “Stay here,” he ordered Keevah.

  She wasn’t about to listen.

  Chapter Eleven

  Upon hearing the screaming, Murdoch had handed Brigid off to Euphemie just as Lachlan and Keevah were racing down the stairs.

  “It is comin’ from the back,” Murdoch said.

  “We heard,” Lachlan said as he searched for a way out.

  “This way,” Keevah said as she raced past the two men. “The door to the alley is off the kitchen.”

  She was out the door before he could tell her to remain inside. He had to pull to an abrupt stop so as not to knock her down; she had stopped just outside the door and was staring at something at the end of the alley.

  A small crowd was beginning to form toward the end, hovering over something. An older woman was weeping into the chest of a younger woman.

  Keevah grabbed a fistful of skirts and ran. Lachlan and Murdoch were fast on her heels. When she reached the huddled crowd, she pushed her way through.

  Horrified, her hand flew to her mouth to stop her own scream from escaping.

  “Forveleth!” Keevah whispered, appalled at what she was seeing.

  Her beautiful auburn hair spilled across the muddy snow. Pretty blue eyes stared up at the gray sky, unseeing, unblinking, lifeless. A large, jagged gash tore across her neck, gaping and bloody.

  The top of her dress had been torn, exposing one breast. The skirts of her pretty goldenrod gown had been shoved up to her waist. Her legs had been spread in a most undignified manner.

  Keevah’s world began to spin as bile rose. The sight of the poor woman, dead, lying in the muddy, icy alley, was worse than any nightmare she could have conjured. ’Twas inhuman, what had been done to her.

  Turning away, she found Lachlan standing right behind her. Tears fell as she collapsed against his chest.

  “Murdoch, get somethin’ to cover the poor lass with,” he said, tearing his gaze away from the body.

  “Did ye ken her?” Lachlan asked as he pulled Keevah back from the crowd.

  She nodded against his chest. “Aye. Her name is Forveleth. Forveleth Boyle.”

  Lachlan had seen plenty of dead people in his life. Most of them killed on the battlefield. But he’d never seen anything like this. Anger churned deep in his belly. Who could have done such a thing?

  He’d asked that question too many times of late. Far too many.

  Murdoch returned and carefully covered Forveleth’s remains. The crowd had grown larger, the murmurs and cruel comments increasing. “Has anyone called the sheriff?” he asked to no one in particular.

  No one answered. “I said, has anyone called the sheriff?” he asked again, this time putting a bit of heat and more volume to his inquiry.

  A younger man, mayhap in his early twenties, finally tore his gaze away from Forveleth’s cold body. “I will,” he volunteered before running away.

  “Keevah, mayhap ye should go back inside,” Lachlan suggested.

  “We should nae leave her alone,” she replied. Taking a deep breath, she broke the embrace and tried pulling herself together.

  “Who would do such a thing?” she asked bitingly, glancing back to Forveleth’s linen covered body.

  Lachlan had no good answer.

  “Only a madman could do that to a woman,” Keevah said.

  More people were beginning to join the crowd. A sensation began to creep up from Keevah’s soul. Vengeance? Fury? Something else? Whatever it was, she was suddenly filled with a tremendous sense of determination.

  While she couldn’t call Forveleth a close friend, they had spent much time together while working for Euphemie. Searching the crowd, she found the woman she believed had discovered Forveleth’s body. She was sitting on a short stool near one of rear doors. She was crying into her skirt whilst the same woman from earlier kept patting her shoulder.

  Leaving Lachlan behind,
she went to speak to her.

  She knelt in front of the poor woman and placed a warm palm on her knee. “Mistress? My name is Keevah. Are ye well?”

  She shook her head and continued to quietly weep. “Well? I will never be well again,” she cried.

  “Neither will I,” said the woman beside her. Glancing toward Forveleth, she shivered.

  “Were ye the one who discovered Forveleth?” Keevah asked her.

  “’Twas Lena who found her,” the standing woman said.

  Keevah thanked her for that information. “Lena? Can ye tell me exactly what happened?”

  She wiped her face with the hem of her skirt before taking in a deep breath. “I opened the door to toss the scraps and there she was. Lying in the mud and snow. The poor woman!”

  Trying to keep her voice as calm and warm as possible, Keevah continued with her questions. “Did ye see anyone else in the alley? Anyone lurkin’ nearby?”

  Lena swallowed hard as she shook her head.

  Keevah was looking for anything that might lead to the person responsible for her old friend’s death. “Did ye hear anything odd this morn? Anythin’ out of the ordinary?”

  Another shake of her head.

  “I did,” said Lena’s friend. “I heard a bit of a crash, like someone bumpin’ into the crates, less than a quarter of an hour before Lena started screamin’.”

  “Did ye by chance look to see what it was that was bumpin’ around?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “At this hour? I assumed ’twas a drunkard or someone leavin’ the Pickle.”

  Further questioning led to nothing. They saw no one lurking in the shadows, no one leaving the scene of the murder.

  Keevah thanked the women and got to her feet. Once again, Lachlan was right behind her, offering her his quiet strength and support.

  “What are ye doin’, lass?” he asked in a low tone.

  She wasn’t quite certain what she would call what she was doing or about to do. “I dunnae ken, but I feel I must do somethin’ to find the man who murdered Forveleth.”