Lachlan's Heart: Book Two of The MacCulloughs

by Suzan Tisdale

  “Tis naught more than pieces of rushes tied together with a bit of coarse wool,” he said after looking at it for a quick moment.

  “Aye, they are. One was left, either on, next to, or verra near each of the victims.”

  “Did ye find one with Forveleth?” Keevah asked.

  He nodded and pulled the small crucifix from the pouch on his belt. It looked like the other. Bits of twisted brown grass tied together with a bit of coarse woolen thread.

  They were all quiet for a long moment.

  “And there is nae a witness to be found anywhere?”

  “None that I have come across. But the sheriff will nae allow me to question the people who live or work in those areas where they were found.”

  “Why the bloody hell not?” Lachlan asked bewilderedly.

  “Because he is as worthless as a sheriff as he is a man. He is too busy tryin’ to impress the aristocracy. A murdered prostitute is simply a murdered prostitute.”

  “I wager is this madman was killin’ the daughters of the aristocracy the sheriff would have a much different opinion,” Keevah said frustratedly.

  There was not one of among them who would argue that point.

  For the next hour, they discussed everything Ewan knew about the murders. The main commonalities as well as the differences. All the while, Ewan paced from the map to his table and often would think aloud.

  An ache was beginning to form in Keevah’s neck; literally and figuratively. The lack of sleep was catching up with her, but she wanted to press on.

  “So, what we do know is that all these women are former prostitutes. Each of them had at least one child. And the murderer leaves behind a crucifix made from rushes.”

  “Only six of the seven had children,” Ewan corrected her. “Celeste was the only one without a child. Celeste had no children.”

  Keevah shook her head. I knew Celeste. She did have a child. A little girl. She would have been eleven or twelve had she lived.”

  Surprised, Ewan went back to his table and riffled through his papers. “I did nae find that information,” he mumbled to himself.

  Lachlan had been watching her closely for a long while. Something began to gnaw at his gut. Keevah could have been one of these women. The thought was terrifying to him. Even though they had yet to have the discussion regarding Brigid, he knew, deep down, the child had to be hers.

  “Did ye ken all of these women?” he asked her.

  “I knew five of them,” she replied.

  The overwhelming urge to grab her and take her as far away from Inverness washed over him. He didn’t want her in the same city as this madman.

  “I think we should get back to Brigid,” Lachlan told her. “I did nae get to break my fast this morn.”

  “I think ye are right,” she said as she got to her feet. Lachlan grabbed their cloaks from the peg and draped hers over her shoulders.

  “I think I would like to stay and talk with Ewan,” Murdoch said from his seat near the brazier.

  While Lachlan would have preferred Murdoch to help assist with guarding Keevah and Brigid, he decided to allow it. “Verra well,” he said. “Please let us know if ye discover anythin’ else.”

  They said their goodbyes and quit the room.

  The walk back to the Tickled Pickle seemed to take far too long. Lachlan remained diligent, scanning the area for anyone who might appear as if they wanted to do them harm. Not only did he now need to protect Keevah and Brigid from Dermott, he felt he now needed to protect her from a deranged murderer.

  “When we get back to Euphemie’s, I want ye to promise me ye will rest. At least for a little while.”

  “I will nae argue with ye,” she said with a smile. “I am exhausted.”

  Glad to hear her agree, he picked up the pace. He never thought he’d be so happy to walk through the doors of a brothel in his life.

  Using the back streets and alleyways in order not to be seen felt odd to Keevah. Until the day she’d left all those years ago, she’d never been afraid to show her face in public. Not even after she started working at the Tickled Pickle.

  “We must stay in the shadows,” Lachlan told her as he pulled the hood of her cloak over her thick, black hair. “Who knows if Dermott is looking for his wife or those who might have helped her.”

  Deciding his argument was valid, she kept her head down as Lachlan took her hand to lead the way. It somehow felt right and good to have her hand in his. It also made her feel safe. Lord, what would I have done had he not been here?

  It suddenly dawned on her that she still had no idea why he was here and what he was doing at the Tickled Pickle of all places. Curiosity was getting the better of her.

  “Lachlan?” she said as they paused at the end of an alley for Lachlan to scan the street and pathways. “Ye never did tell me why ye are here.”

  “That is a story best told when we have more time,” he said.

  Was he being intentionally evasive?

  Her mind began to race. Had he come to Inverness to seek the comfort of one of Euphemie’s ladies? Just the thought made her angry. To think of him in the arms of any other woman made her blood boil. Wasn’t it only a few weeks ago that he had asked for her hand? Was he the kind of man she used to share her time with? The married kind who sought pleasure in another woman’s arms?

  Nay, she realized as soon as she’d thought it. Lachlan was far too honorable and loyal to do such a thing.

  Out of the shadows and onto the street that ran along the river and would eventually lead them to the brothel. All the while, her mind conjured up all sorts of reasons as to why he was here. And not a one of them brought her any peace of mind.

  “It was nay to seek the talents of Euphemie or the women who work for her,” he told her as the hurried down the street. “I give ye my word I will explain it to ye later.”

  Just why she felt so relieved she couldn’t rightly say. But relieved she was. Oh, she knew she had no right to feel jealous, however knowing that didn’t make the feeling any less intense.

  “I am glad ye are here,” she admitted.

  He chanced a sideways glance at her. “I am as well, Keevah. For I have surely missed ye.”

  “Ye have?”

  “I have thought of little else besides ye since the day I left,” he said as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

  Knowing he’d been thinking of her made her heart skip a beat right before dread set in. They couldn’t be together, not in the way he wanted. He needed a good woman as his wife. A woman without a past. Still, it did make her heart flutter knowing he did want her. Oh, how she hated the contrariness in her heart.

  Resting was easier said than done. Brigid had been so relieved to see Keevah return that she refused to let the woman out of her sight for even a moment. She sat on Keevah’s lap throughout the meal and insisted on sitting beside her while she napped.

  Napping while a five-year-old child is staring at you is rather difficult. Thankfully, after a little bit of coaxing, Brigid lay down beside Keevah and fell fast asleep.

  Sleep, however, was not as easy for Keevah. She simply couldn’t take her gaze away. For an hour, she studied every inch of the Brigid’s sweet face, her curly black locks, her thick dark lashes, cherubic cheeks, and little fingers.

  She hadn’t been able to that since the day she was born. Five years, three months, two weeks and two days ago. She knew, because she had counted every one of the days since she had placed her daughter into Kiernan’s arms.

  There was not a day that passed without thinking of her babe. Seldom did she worry over the babe’s safety because she knew Kiernan was a good person and would love Brigid as if she had come from her own womb.

  It had been difficult giving her daughter away; it had not been a decision made lightly. There were many times she had regretted her decision but whenever the regrets and guilt grew, she reminded herself ’twas out of her love for her daughter that she’d given her away. There was no way she could have raised her on
her own, at least not at that point in her life. She was a prostitute. Raising a child within the walls of a brothel was impossible.

  Her daughter needed a good home, with parents who loved her, people who could care for her, nurture her and help her grow into a fine woman.

  Dermott had fooled her. He had led her to believe that fatherhood had changed him.

  How could she have been so wrong?

  Brigid sighed sweetly as she slept. Content, Keevah supposed, at least in her sleep.

  Love, deep and true, swelled inside her heart, filling her eyes with tears. Oh, my sweet babe, how I have missed ye.

  Guilt reared its ugly head. Her heart cracked thinking of Kiernan whose cold body now lay somewhere in the Black Friar Priory to be properly laid to rest. Dead because Keevah hadn’t kept her safe. Dead because she’d married a most foul, ugly man. Dead because Keevah had ran away.

  It should be Kiernan here with Brigid, nae me. I may have given birth to Brigid, but Kiernan is and always will be her mum.

  Lachlan sat in a chair by the door; his legs stretched out and arms over his chest. He dosed off and on only because he knew Euphemie’s man, Charles, had all entrances to the brothel guarded. Both against Dermott as well as the killer at large. He sat, listening at first to Keevah and Brigid whispering, then their steady breaths after falling asleep.

  He could not help but wonder what was going through Keevah’s mind. How long had it been since she’d seen her friend or her daughter? Had she given any further thought to his proposal?

  He’d marry her today if she’d have him. Together, they could raise Brigid to be a fine woman. Together, they could bring the Chisolms around and make the keep and lands even more prosperous, sans the coin earned from the brothel of course.

  Before coming above stairs, he had signed the deed to the building and the business over to Euphemie. He could sense she still didn’t believe there wasn’t a catch, even after signing the document.

  In her line of business, ’twas probably prudent to be more a pessimist than your average fellow. They might cater to a higher class of clientele, but it was still a rather shady business.

  Tonight, tonight he would have a heartfelt discussion with Keevah. The one he had wished they had been able to have before he left to begin his new life. The one in which he would give her the words of his heart and convince her that marrying him wasn’t such a bad idea.

  He must have been more tired than he realized and had fallen into a deep sleep. He didn’t hear Brigid slip from the bed; didn’t even know she was standing right beside him until she tugged on his tunic.

  In a soft, sweet whisper she said, “I has to pee and Keevah is asleep.”

  He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the backs of his hands, stood, and took the child by the hand. Quietly, they tiptoed from the room and down the stairs in search of Euphemie.

  The moment they reached the second-floor landing, he realized, mayhap, he should have awakened Keevah. There were a few men in the drawing room, and each was surrounded by beautiful women. A few of those women were in nothing but their chemises. The others were dressed in fine gowns. Gowns that revealed a little too much of their bosom.

  He picked Brigid up and carried her down the stairs hoping to shield her from the goings on. A woman in a plain brown dress was coming out of the kitchen with a heavy tray just as he was trying to enter.

  “What do ye need?” she asked, pausing in the little hallway between the two spaces.

  “I has to pee,” Brigid told her.

  The woman rolled her eyes and told them to wait.

  She returned with an empty tray and a scowl in short order. “Euphemie said nothin’ about child mindin’ when I took the position as cook and housekeeper,” she said as she glowered at Lachlan.

  Her scowl disappeared the moment she took Brigid from his arms. “Ye can call me Auntie Bess, lassie. I will help ye.”

  Lachlan was much relieved to have the woman’s help. He didn’t know the first thing about children.

  Keevah slept like the dead until late in the afternoon. When she woke, she found Brigid had at some point slipped from the bed. Panic rose as she sat upright, her sleepy eyes searching the room before she heard a giggle.

  There, on the floor near the brazier sat the two people she loved most in life. They were playing with little wooden toys. Brigid was making the little carved horse ‘gallop’ across the floor. “Then what happened?” she whispered.

  “The warrior slayed the infidel, sending him straight to hell,” he whispered back.

  Appalled, for she didn’t believe he should be telling such a story to someone so young, she cleared her throat.

  “Ah! Our queen has awakened,” Lachlan said, giving her a wink.

  Brigid spun around and smiled. “Keevah!” She all but flung herself into Keevah’s arms. “Lachlan and I were playin’,” she told her. “He just slayed the infidel.”

  “So I heard,” Keevah said, giving Lachlan a glare that said she didn’t approve.

  Brigid hugged her tightly before returning to her spot on the floor. “Is that when the people were freed?”

  “Aye, lass, that is when the people were freed.”

  She nodded approvingly. “Good.” Grabbing up another wooden toy, she asked, without looking, “Have ye ever slayed an infidel?”

  He scratched his stubbled jaw and pretended to think about it. “One or two, I suppose.”

  Worried over where the conversation or story would go next, Keevah left the bed. “Mayhap it is time to eat?”

  “Auntie Bess gave us sweet cakes,” Brigid told her.

  “Auntie Bess?” Keevah asked.

  Lachlan was still smiling warmly at the little girl. “The cook. She and Brigid have become fast friends.”

  “I see. Well, mayhap yer auntie Bess will give us a sweet cake?” She held out her hand to Brigid.

  “It is awfully busy below stairs,” he said hoping she’d catch on. Getting to his feet he said, “I will go.”

  “Really, Lachlan,” she said. “Do ye nae think I dunnae ken what goes on here?”

  He leaned in and whispered, “I ken ye do. But should Brigid?”

  She supposed he was right. “Verra well, I shall go below stairs. Ye stay here with Lachlan.” Before leaving, she gave him a stern look of warning that said, no more terrifying stories of death or killing infidels.

  The conversation he so desperately wanted to have with Keevah hadn’t taken place as he’d planned. Murdoch had returned in time for the evening meal, fell onto a pallet and fell asleep almost instantly. But first, Keevah had made him promise to tell her everything that had transpired after she and Lachlan had left that morn.

  Keevah washed Brigid’s face and hands and combed her hair until it shined. They talked for at least an hour before they too, fell asleep.

  In the morning, he told himself. When this place is quiet.

  While everyone else slept like the dead, Lachlan could not. He had far too much on his mind. Most of his thoughts surrounded Keevah and their future together. He wanted her as his wife, his partner, the mother of his children. He wanted her in every good sense of the word.

  As he lay in the dark of night, he imagined their keep filled with children running about, happy, content, and protected. Should anything ever happen to him, he had no doubt that Richard and Aeschene would take care of them.

  He imagined Keevah lying in his arms in their own bed, a soft fire crackling in their hearth. Warm, soft furs draped across warm, soft skin. Their nights filled with loving and passion. Their days busy, filled with all the good things life had to offer.

  A scraping sound floated up from the alley below, breaking his quiet reverie. Stealthily, he leapt from the cot, silently withdrew his sword as he pulled back the fur.

  A dense, heavy fog filled the night sky.

  Someone is out there. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as his pulse quickened. Straining his eyes, he quieted his breathing to listen.

&n
bsp; A long, tense moment passed by before he heard another sound. The soft footfalls of boots across cobblestone. Slow, careful, measured steps.

  Quickly, he slid his feet into his boots, grabbed his cloak and made his way down the stairs. Ignoring the noisy, boisterous goings on in the bedchambers, and even noisier events taking placing in the greeting room, he went to the kitchens and slipped out the back door.

  Standing in the foggy alley, he paused to listen. The sounds of raucous laughter coming from the brothel and the tavern next door were the only sounds he could now hear.

  Stealthily, he made his way to the end of the alley, paused and listened, scanning the area all around him.

  After a long while, he felt certain whomever had been here was now gone. Just as quietly as he had arrived, he went back inside and slid into his cot.

  He didn’t sheath his sword, instead, kept it right beside him.

  His gut told him the footfalls were a harbinger of things to come.

  Chapter Thirteen

  If he had ever possessed a doubt about the rightness of his work, it was immediately relinquished the moment he saw Keevah step out of the brothel and into the alleyway.

  Oh, he’d been watching, waiting, learning to see how long it took before Forveleth’s dead body had been discovered. The faster the body was discovered the more exciting the game was. Tempting fate? He thought not; ’twas all part of the game.

  He’d been just another face in the crowd as he’d been the previous times. Just another nosy onlooker. He’d even commented once or twice, clucking his tongue, looking appalled. “What is this world comin’ to?” he had pronounced at the discovery of Mary Andrews’s body. He’d repeated the same statement again at Forveleth’s.

  But because he was so average looking and no one of import, no one paid him a bit of attention, which was good. It kept the game going just a bit longer.