But it was Rory who hurried to her side and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, holding a shocked Citrine in place. “’Tis dangerous, Citrine,” he said in a low voice. “The disease can be spread through touch.”
Citrine could do little more than stare, wide-eyed, as the woman she’d once known and loved pulled her hood back up over her coif.
Da moved to stand beside her, but didn’t reach for his wife. “I’m sorry, daughter,” he said in a rough voice. “I wanted to tell ye, but…”
“But I wouldnae allow him,” Mother finished.
“Why?” Citrine whispered in anguish as Rory pushed her into one of the chairs at the table.
The woman—was it really Mother, after all these years?—seemed to float as she moved across the rock floor to the table and sat in the opposite chair. She didn’t lift her hands again, but kept them on her lap as she stared hungrily at her daughter.
Citrine wondered what it’d be like to spend her life walled away in this place, missing her daughters and husband… She shuddered.
“I wouldnae allow Duncan to tell ye I was here,” Mother began, “Because I kenned ye—of all the girls—would insist on visiting.”
“Would that be so bad?” Citrine snapped, not sure if she was angry or glad Mother was sitting here speaking with her.
In response, her mother tilted her head just enough to allow the hood to fall open and reveal one hideous cheek. “Aye, my love,” she whispered. “’Twould have been. Do ye think I could’ve refrained from holding my precious children, if ye discovered me here? Only after years without ye, have I found myself able to restrain from passing this horrible disease on.”
Citrine’s hands shook as she clasped them in her lap. Her mother was alive and had allowed them all to think her dead…to protect them?
“Tell me,” she demanded.
Mother’s chin dipped in acknowledgement as Da stepped up behind her to mirror Rory’s pose. His lips were pressed into a grim line.
The other woman took a deep breath. “Our healer discovered the disease when ye were young, and the physicians Duncan brought in confirmed it. I kenned if I wanted to protect ye all, I would have to sequester myself. If given the choice, I’d have rather gone quickly, surrounded by the ones I love, but…”
She shrugged, an awkward motion which made Citrine wonder how much was missing under the robe. “In order to save ye all—and the rest of the clan—I would have to leave. Duncan helped me build this new home, and I’ve been here since, with no one but him kenning of its existence.”
“And all the years, she’s been here,” Da growled, “She hasn’t allowed a single touch.”
It was obvious from the torment in his expression what he thought of that deprivation.
But Citrine understood. “Ye did it to protect us all,” she whispered.
“Aye, my love.” Mother nodded. “But ye have to ken that this shell of a woman ye see before ye…I’m no’ the same mother ye remember. ’Tis been too long, and I suspect I’m half-crazed as is, with yer father my only visitor.”
And at high tide, the grotto would be inaccessible. A lonely existence, surely.
“What do ye…?” Citrine shook her head, unable to finish the maudlin thought.
But Mother understood. “I pray. And read.” Her hood twitched slightly toward a row of shelves along the back of the cave, near the hearth. The precious books and scrolls on them would remain drier back there. “And of course, I weave.”
It was then that Citrine lifted her eyes to the tapestries lining the walls. At first, she’d thought them only there to warm the room, to keep out the damp. But now she really looked at them.
Brown, white, blue, and gold.
There were unique designs, repeated, interlocked circles, and woven scenes. But throughout it all were those four colors.
The colors of the Sinclair jewels.
The colors of Citrine and her sisters.
A little sob caught in her throat. All these years, Mother had missed them so much, she’d surrounded herself with the memories of her children.
Rory’s hands settled on her shoulders, and Citrine knew she could be strong.
Citrine met her mother’s eyes—so like her own—and offered a smile through the tears. “I’m sorry, Mother. I’ve missed ye.”
“I pray ye’ll never understand how much I’ve missed ye, my wee firebrand,” Mother whispered in a choked voice.
Da immediately reached for her shoulder, likely to offer comfort, but hesitated and pulled back at the last moment. How incredibly difficult not to be able to touch the woman he obviously still loved.
It seemed he was trying to distract himself—distract them all—when he cleared his throat. “Why are ye here, daughter?”
Citrine reached up and gripped Rory’s hand and took a breath to prepare to explain. “I ken ye expected me to go to Lewes, Da, but I had no intention of staying. Luckily—although the captain might no’ see it that way—our boat was attacked by pirates, and a particularly handsome one took me prisoner.”
“After ye gave him hell with yer sword, lass,” Rory reminded her affectionately.
“Aye, well…” Her lips twitched. “When he heard my story, he agreed to return home with me.”
Da grunted. “I ken there’s more to it than that, lass. But what I meant was why are ye here, now? In this cave? Why did ye follow me?”
Oh. Well, time to be honest.
“Because ye’re in danger, Da. We met up with William last night,”—best to leave out the details—“and he told us what I’ve suspected was the truth. Dougal is trying to take the lairdship away from ye and has been trying to kill ye. He ordered William to do away with me, which is why he allowed the Black Banner to take me, and Pearl…” As she spoke, she saw her father becoming angrier and chose to get it said as fast as possible. “And the attack on Pearl was planned by William. Dougal wanted—”
“God in heaven!” Da roared, throwing up his hands and beginning to pace. “We kenned he’d try to attack me—but poison is used by weaklings! And trying to kill my daughters?” He tugged at his beard in frustration. “He’d dare to put ye in danger?”
It was Mother who spoke, her voice calm as she watched her husband’s fury. “I warned ye they needed protection.”
“Aye, I ken it! ’Tis why I took yer advice on all their marriage contracts!”
“Well, the ones who would follow their contracts, at least.” There was a hint of humor in Mother’s voice.
Had…had the two of them planned their daughters’ marriages? Nay, it wasn’t possible. But…
But Da had been strangely at ease with Pearl marrying one of his warriors and breaking a contract with the Sutherland. And when Saffy had disappeared for so long—to infiltrate the Sutherland holding, although Da didn’t know that—he hadn’t asked questions. Was it possible he’d guessed what his daughters were doing?
Or had their mother deduced it and told him?
Behind her, Rory cleared his throat. “’Tisnae all, Laird Sinclair. Yer daughters have assembled the jewels.”
Da swung around, piercing Rory with a hard stare. But under her hood, Mother’s golden eyes gleamed with excitement.
“The Sinclair jewels?” Da asked in a rough voice, his gaze dropping to Citrine. “A myth.”
“Nay, Da,” she assured him, reaching for her pouch. “No’ a myth.” Although she might not have chosen this moment to share the news with her father, she couldn’t deny he seemed ready to act against Dougal now. Mayhap this would help.
With the others watching, she tipped the box open on the table, spilling out the tapestry, the empty brooch, and the three stones.
Mother sucked in a gasp, reaching for the pearl. Her hand hovered over the stone, two fingers and a thumb all that remained, before she exhaled and pulled her hand back.
“Are those them?” Da asked gruffly, striding around the table and reaching for the brooch. “This is the setting? Those are the missing stones?”
“Aye, Da, all but the citrine.” She met his eyes. “Do ye no’ see? With the jewels returned to the Sinclairs, our future is secure. We’ll be strong again.”
Da grunted, turning the brooch this way and that in his hand, frowning. “Tell me how this came to be,” he commanded.
So, Citrine did.
With Rory’s help, she recounted the events which started back with Pearl’s marriage, leading through Agata’s adventure with the Mackenzies, and Saffy’s trip to the Sutherlands. They told her parents about Rory’s finding the pearl years ago and the song which led them to the hearth in her room.
“Of course,” Mother breathed when they finished. “The hearthstone’s view. It makes so much sense now!”
Now? “Mother? Ye mean…”
The older woman sat in stillness for a long moment before she finally dipped her chin. “Aye, Citrine. Who do ye think gave the tapestry to Elspeth to give to ye?”
Citrine gasped, instinctively gathering the ancient tapestry closer. “Ye?”
“I’ve studied the stones for many, many years, and I kenned it was time for ye to gather them all.”
Impossible! And yet…
Citrine’s eyes strayed to the shelves of scrolls. How much of the clan’s history was there? What would Saffy say about all these books to study?
Mother nodded. “I will tell ye, if ye’d like.”
“Please do, Mala,” Da growled. “And while ye’re at it, tell me what else ye’ve set into motion without me kenning.”
To Citrine’s surprise, Mother’s chuckle sounded the same as she remembered from all those years ago. “No’ much, Duncan. Just events which will hopefully save our clan.”
“Ye always say that!”
“And I’ve always been right, have I no’?” she challenged, lifting her chin. “When I counseled ye to allow Citrine to train with the men? Or when Pearl wanted to live among the Sinclairs, rather than far away? Ye asked for my advice then, as well as with their marriages, and we concocted a strong scheme.”
Da waggled the brooch at her. “Aye, together. What’s all this about the jewels?”
Citrine wondered if she was trying to smile behind her hood.
“I needed to give yer daughters something to do to save their clan, Duncan. Did I no’?”
With a growl, he threw up his hands. “Tell us yer story, stubborn woman!”
The older woman’s chuckle stabbed at Citrine’s heart, and her hand tightened around Rory’s. It was almost impossible to believe Mother was still alive, but in so many ways…she wasn’t. Citrine would never be able to hug her or stroke her hair, and Mother’s years of being a hermit had obviously taken a toll on her.
When she bowed her head, the hood covered everything, and with her raspy voice, it seemed believable she was merely a memory.
“Long ago, four sisters from the Campbell clan discovered their father had arranged marriage contracts for them. They were verra close, and sad to be moving so far apart.”
Citrine glanced up at Rory, her heart beginning to pound faster. The four sisters Saffy had discovered! But if there were only the four, then where was the last jewel? The citrine?
“One of the sisters arrived here and married Duncan’s grandda, years after his first wife had died. Yer grandfather, Citrine, was half-grown by then, and was being raised to be a fine laird. But this Campbell wife grew jealous, kenning none of the sons she bore would rise to power. So, she punished her husband’s clan.”
Da’s knuckles tightened around the brooch. “She broke apart the Sinclair jewels.”
“Aye. She broke apart the brooch and hid the jewels the only way she could imagine—sending them to her sisters.”
Citrine cleared her throat. “Her sisters married into the Mackenzie, Sutherland, and MacLeod clans, did they no’?”
Mother’s throaty chuckle drifted from under the hood. “I kenned ye girls would discover the truth! I’ll wager it was Sapphire who studied the histories, aye? She was most like me, in that regard.”
Citrine’s brows rose as she glanced at her father. The Blessed Virgin knew Da was no scholar, so mayhap her scholarly twin did inherit that interest from their long-lost mother.
“Aye, the other Campbell sisters were spread across the Highlands, and Lady Sinclair sent three of the jewels to them. She hid the brooch here in the keep.”
Rory’s weight shifted. “Was she the one who left the trail of hints? The saying, the carving, and the song? Or was that her sisters, determined not to allow the jewels to be forgotten?”
Mother’s shrug showed how the disease had ravaged her body. “We may never ken. I only found two letters written from the Sutherland sister, to tell me of Lady Sinclair’s jealousy and scheme. I had to infer the rest.”
Da growled dangerously. “Dougal is her grandson, is he no’? The treacherous bitch believed her son should be laird, and now her grandson—”
When he bit off his words with a curse, Mother nodded. “Mayhap he inherited her goal, or mayhap he came upon it independently. But ’tis why I have warned ye all along no’ to trust that man, cousin or nay.”
“He’s a good warrior,” Da defended.
“Aye,” Citrine said grimly. “And as yer cousin, he believes he has claim to the lairdship. But I’ll no’ let him harm ye.”
Mother lifted her head once more, allowing the hood to fall back enough to pierce Citrine with those identical, golden eyes. “And after, my wee firebrand?” she rasped. “What will become of the Sinclairs?”
Somehow, Citrine knew. She felt her mother’s blessing as it drifted over her, telling her what she wanted was right. Telling her she could do this.
“The Sinclairs will be strong for years to come,” Citrine managed to choke out. “I promise.”
Da didn’t understand and didn’t seem to care. He slammed the brooch down on the table between them. “Brooch, agate, pearl, sapphire. Where is the citrine?”
At last, Mother moved, pushing away from the table and standing. “Here.”
They all seemed to hold their breath as she drifted across the room to a large tapestry depicting four little blonde girls holding hands. When she moved it aside, Citrine saw a nook carved into the rock wall.
Her mother reached in and pulled out a large citrine. It seemed dull, until she held the stone up to the torch. Then the light hit the facets and reflected in a hundred directions, bathing the small room in golden light.
And her mother tried to smile again. “Sometimes I hold it thus and pretend it is the sun.” She chuckled and shook her head, lowering the stone. “I found it here years ago. ’Twas why I remembered this cavern when I kenned it was time for me to disappear.”
“Ye think the old Lady Sinclair hid it here?” Rory asked.
“I do.” Mother seemed to be having trouble breathing, and she rested her hand on the back of the chair beside the cold hearth. “I have lived here for a long time, and I have felt her malevolent presence. I believe her hatred and jealousy infected her and possibly this place. But I have fought it for many years…”
Weakly, she gestured at the tapestries as she sank into the chair, her breaths coming in gasps.
“I will no’ be alive much longer, but I am glad to drag this mystery out into the open.”
“Why did ye no’ tell me, Mala?” Da asked in a pained voice. “I could’ve…”
Mother shook her head. “This was for yer daughters, Duncan Sinclair. They are the clan’s future, and they needed to ken that.”
Suddenly, Citrine understood what her mother was hinting. She stood, pushing the chair back but keeping her hold on her betrothed’s hand.
“Dougal will pay for his sins.”
Da shook his head as if putting aside the mystery of the jewels, not realizing how closely they were tied to the clan’s future. “Ye’re right, lass,” he growled. “He had the audacity to threaten my life, but to discover he’s been threatening my bairns? He’ll die for that crime.”
Rory stepped up beside her. �
��We donae ken who is loyal to him, who has higher aspirations.”
“It doesnae matter!” Da slammed his fist into his palm. “We’ll root them all out, then worry about the future!”
“Take the jewels, Citrine,” Mother said in a weak voice, holding out the last stone. “They are the proof ye need of yer worthiness. Only the cleverest and bravest of the Sinclair warriors could’ve retrieved them.”
It felt as if she were in a trance. Citrine’s bare feet padded softly across the cold stone of the chamber, until she stopped before her mother. She crouched down and held out her hand.
Mother leaned forward as if to touch her, but sucked in a breath and halted. Slowly, carefully, she dropped the last of the Sinclair jewels into Citrine’s palm.
“I love ye, my daughter.”
“I love ye, too, Mother.”
Her mother sat back with a sigh. “Go now,” she commanded. “Make Dougal pay. Win yer future. I’ll be here when ye’re done, I swear it.”
Full of grim determination, Citrine stood and whirled, her sword slapping against her thigh, filling her with confidence.
“Da?”
Her father grunted, his own hand falling to his sword’s hilt.
Rory finished setting all the jewels into the brooch, bending the prongs to hold them. When she tossed the citrine to him, he added that one as well, then slid the completed brooch into the pouch. He tied it closed, then handed it to her, leaving the box and tapestry on her mother’s table.
“Ye carry these, Citrine,” he said in a low voice.
She nodded, a sense of surety filling her. This was right. “Ye stand behind me on this, husband-to-be?”
His lips twitched upward. “Nay, my love. I stand beside ye. Where I belong.”
Nay, it wasn’t just right…it was perfect.
“Well?” Da growled from the canvas-covered door. “Let us go kill a traitor!”
Citrine glanced once at the shrunken figure in the chair. Her mother—or the person who’d once been her mother, at least—nodded her blessing, and Rory’s hand slid into Citrine’s.
“Aye,” Citrine said as she lifted her chin. “Let us secure the future of Clan Sinclair!”
The MacLeod Pirate Page 14