’Twas only out of respect for Maire that Connor did not order Helen and Margaret to be hanged. Death, he decided, was too easy for both of them.
There was a punishment that would be far worse than death for the two women.
Helen, bound at her wrists, now stood before him in the gathering room. Aiden and a handful of his men stood at the back, quietly observing the proceeding. A dozen of Connor’s warriors stood behind Helen and the two guards who had brought her up from the dungeon.
For the last quarter of an hour, he and his brothers had listened to the irrational tirade of a woman who was insane. ’Twas me right to do it, she had repeated. Onnleigh has bewitched ye. Me sweet Margaret loves ye. I was only lookin’ out fer ye!
Finally, he could take no more. He stood behind the long table, the same one where Helen had ordered the deaths of Onnleigh and Bridgett only a few hours before. “I have heard enough,” he said, his voice low yet firm.
Helen did her best to appear forlorn and repentant. He knew she was anything but. “I am banishing everyone who helped aid ye in yer quest fer power and yer lust for revenge.”
Helen apparently believed he was including herself and Margaret in that banishment. She didn’t appear to be put off by the decision. Nay, he saw the flicker of relief in those evil eyes. And something else. Already she was plotting some new heinous, unspeakable plan. He was not about to give her the chance to hurt any of his family or people again.
“Ye, however, shall be ensconced at Culross Abbey for all the rest of your days.”
For only the tiniest moment did she look horrified. Once again, he could see her mind working, thinking, churning likes the cogs of a pulley. “Ye will have absolutely no contact with anyone. Nae from this clan or any other. Ye will nae be allowed visitors. From sunrise to sunset, ye will do naught but what the monks direct ye to do. I be certain there will be a good deal of prayer and study fillin’ up yer days, instead of plottin’ and takin’ revenge on innocent people.”
With a nod to the guards, he ordered her removed and put back into the dungeon. She went kicking and screaming, cursing Connor, his brothers, Onnleigh, and even her own daughter.
Margaret.
Not once did she ask where her daughter was. Not once did she inquire about Margaret’s well-being or what would become of her. Instead, she blamed Margaret for her demise. “That bloody whore!” she screamed. “I hope she rots along with the rest of ye!”
For a moment, Connor actually felt sorry for Margaret. He could not begin to imagine having been raised by such a hateful woman. How could that woman have birthed Maire? He doubted he would ever have the answer to that question.
Bruanna studied Margaret closely for a long while. “’Tis only because ye saved Nola that Connor has nae yet called fer yer death.”
Margaret shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly. In truth, she did not care at the moment what punishment Connor might mete out. Whatever it was, it was nothing less than what she deserved. And it would pale in comparison to what her mother had in store for her.
There was no way she could explain her reasons for doing what she had done, not without revealing all of the sordid, ugly details. ’Twas doubtful any of them would understand.
“Bruanna, me thinks Margaret is feeling verra afraid right now,” Onnleigh said. “I, fer one, will always be in her debt.”
Margaret kept her feet firmly planted, afraid to move or say anything. In truth, she didn’t want Onnleigh’s gratitude. She wanted nothing but to be as far away from this place as she could get. Even if it meant Connor would order her hanged on the morrow.
“Margaret? Do ye ken why yer mum hates me as she does?” Onnleigh asked.
Margaret finally looked up at her. “Me mum hates everyone,” she replied softly. Includin’ me.
“Why do ye hate me so?”
“I do nae hate ye,” she said. ’Twas the God’s truth she didn’t. While she might not have a strong liking for the woman, she by no means hated her. Nay, her mother had enough hatred in her heart for ten women.
“Ye certainly have an odd way of showin’ it,” Bridgett interjected. She was still bloody angry with her.
Margaret chose to remain quiet instead of looking at her. None of them would ever understand.
Louisa had sent someone to Bruanna’s with clean clothing for Onnleigh and Bridgett, along with more goat’s milk for the babe. According to the young boy, those who had invaded the keep had been caught. They learned that Fergus had been able to retrieve the keys from one of the offenders in order to affect an escape. Those men who had been held captive were now being tended to by the healer. Most were expected to live. The boy knew nothing else.
Onnleigh and Bridgett washed up as best they could in Bruanna’s tiny cottage. “I imagine it will take more than a few baths to get the smoke out of our hair,” Bridgett said. Onnleigh agreed.
They were exhausted, but there were too many questions and neither woman was willing to wait to get them. “How on earth was Margaret able to get to the Randall keep and back in such a short amount of time?” Bridgett asked that particular question.
Bruanna and Frazier exchanged knowing glances with one another. Deciding they would be unable to keep their friendship secret any longer, she decided to tell the young women the truth of the matter. Or at least a good part of it. There were some things a woman wanted to keep to herself.
“Frazier and I have been friends a good long while,” Bruanna began. “Thank the Gods he was visitin’ me yesterday when Margaret came pounded on me door.”
Onnleigh and Bridgett glanced at each other before turning their attention back to Bruanna. “But I thought the Randalls were our enemies?” Onnleigh said, thoroughly confused.
“The clans be enemies of sorts,” Frazier said. “But sometimes, a friendship can be stronger than an alliance or lack of one, betwixt clans.”
Onnleigh started to ask another question, but Bruanna shot her a look of warning. She closed her mouth, deciding ‘twould be best not to poke that particular beehive.
“’Twas I who took Margaret to our keep,” Frazier added. “I’ve been usin’ the same shortcut for a spell now, to come visit Bruanna.”
“We will always be in yer debt,” Bridgett said.
Frazier smiled fondly at Bruanna while he patted her hand. “There be naught I would nae do fer this fine woman.”
Onnleigh drew her lips inward to keep from smiling when she saw the blush creep up Bruanna’s face. If she did not know better, she would swear the two people loved one another. And ’twas a love that went far deeper than just a friendship.
Onnleigh and Bridgett had climbed into Bruanna’s little bed, with Nola between them. Margaret sat quietly by the fire listening to the old couple whispering to one another.
’Twas hours before Connor and his brother’s returned to Bruanna’s cottage. Aiden Randall was with them.
Onnleigh and Bridgett heard the men enter. They rubbed their eyes before rushing happily to their men. Margaret retreated to the corner of the cottage, once again wishing she was invisible. ’Twas difficult to gain any inkling as to what the MacCallen brothers were thinking, at least as it pertained to Margaret or her mother. Fingers of fear traced up and down her spine. There was a good possibility that Connor was going to tell her she would be hanging alongside her mother.
The small group of people whispered amongst themselves for a brief moment. Twice, she caught Onnleigh and Bridgett looking her way. Moments later, they were all stepping out of doors, leaving Margaret alone with the old couple and Aiden Randall.
It had been Aiden she had ridden with last night. She hadn’t paid much attention to the man, her mind too busy with worry over what hell her mother had unleashed. Worry over whether or not they would get back in time to save Onnleigh and Bridgett.
He was as tall as Connor, thinner, but looked just as powerful. Dark hair fell well past his shoulders, a strong jaw, and a nose that had been broken at least once. His eyes, while the same
pale, bright blue as his grandfather’s, held an intensity that made her feel a bit uneasy.
If she weren’t convinced she’d be dead at dawn on the morrow, she might have taken a bit more time to appreciate his rugged good looks.
“Have ye managed to get any sleep yet, lass?” he asked, taking a few steps toward her.
I will be in for a verra long sleep come the morrow, Margaret mused. His concern was genuine, but born out of ignorance. If he knew her better, he would not have asked. “Nay,” she replied.
“Have ye eaten?”
Honestly, she couldn’t remember the last time she ate. Although ’twas nice to have someone show some sort of sincere concern for her well being, his kindness was wholly misplaced. She shook her head in reply.
She heard Bruanna let out a heavy sigh. “Margaret, if ye be hungry, I have some rabbit stew left over from me supper.”
Margaret thanked her but declined the offer. Her stomach was filled with too much dread to even think about food. Besides, Bruanna looked done-in herself.
“Ye just made an alliance with the Randall, and now ye want to saddle him with Margaret for the rest of his life?” Ronald was dumbfounded. “I thought ye liked the man.”
“’Twas nae my idea,” Connor told him. “’Twas Aiden’s.”
Ronald let out a low whistle as he shook his head in dismay. “Aiden be choosin’ Margaret?”
“Aye, that is what I’ve been tryin’ to tell ye,” Conner said. In truth, he was just as amazed with Aiden’s offer as the rest of them were.
“And did ye try to explain to him why that might nae be a good idea?” Bridgett asked.
Connor had opened his mouth to speak, but Onnleigh stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. “Ye need to stop.”
All eyes turned to her. “Margaret has many faults,” Onnleigh began. “But I cannae believe she be all bad. At least nae anywhere near as bad as her mum.”
Bridgett tried to speak, but Onnleigh felt it too important to not speak her mind. “She could verra well have left me daughter in that fairy tree. She could verra well have left ye and me to rot. But she did neither. Instead, she risked her own life to get to Bruanna’s. She risked everything to keep me babe safe.”
In wide eyed astonishment, Bridgett asked, “Ye have forgiven her?”
“Aye, I have. She may have helped her mum in the beginning, she may have said and done things to me before that were cruel—”
“Of course they were cruel,” Bridgett argued. “Do ye nae remember her callin’ ye a whore and a thief after she took yer clothes?”
“I do remember,” Onnleigh said. “But now I have to ask myself why.”
Bridgett scrunched her brow. “Why what?”
“Why did Margaret do those things? Was it of her own choosin, or was it at her mum’s direction?”
Bridgett shook her head in dismay. “What does it matter why she did those things? She be a woman full grown. She could have said ‘nae’.”
Connor decided this might be a conversation left for another time. Mayhap a year or two from now. “Ladies,” he said, raising his voice slightly. “None of that matters now. What matters is Aiden Randall wants a peace accord with us. He wants to form an alliance. He also wants a marriage betwixt our clans.”
Braigh finally spoke up. “If ye ask me, I’d rather see Margaret and her mum hangin’ from the wych elm trees on the hill.”
Onnleigh began to object but he stayed her protests with a raised hand. “However, I must agree with Connor. A marriage between our clans would help seal the alliance. And if it means gettin’ Margaret as far away from here as possible, then aye, let the Randall have her.”
Epilogue
’Twas just before the evening meal when the MacCallen brothers and their fiancés gathered in the tiny kirk of the keep. Warriors and clanspeople were also in attendance. Bruanna and her friend Frazier sat in the front row, smiling and whispering to one another. “What be goin’ on with those two?” Connor asked Ronald, nodding towards his grandminny.
Ronald’s brow knitted in confusion. “Our grandminny appears to be happy,” he said. “When was the last time we saw her smile like that?”
Honestly, Connor couldn’t remember. Oh, he had heard her laughter, seen her smile on numerous occasions. But today ’twas an entirely different kind of smile. He supposed it had something to do with Frazier Randall, but now was not the time to make any inquiries on that matter.
Connor refused to wait a moment longer to marry Onnleigh. The ceremony was only delayed long enough for Onnleigh and Bridgett to bathe and change into clean dresses. “I refuse to get married smellin’ like the pyre I almost died on,” Onnleigh had told him.
The events of the day proved that life was simply far too short to let anything stand in the way of true happiness. But he could not deny her request for a much needed bath.
Connor and Onnleigh exchanged their vows first. She looked regal in her burgundy wool, her dark auburn locks cascading down her back in waves. Not once did she falter in speaking her vows, in making her promise to love him and cherish him all the rest of her days. That smile, that bright, sweet smile he had grown so fond of over the past weeks, was even brighter this day.
He kissed her most passionately, to which she responded with equal fervor. Were there not two other couples to wed, Connor would have swept her off her feet and immediately whisked her off to their bedchamber.
Ronald and Bridgett were married next. Protocols and banns be damned. “I’ll nae wait,” Ronald told his brother.
Connor laughed outright when the priest voiced his protest. “But the banns must be read,” he argued.
To which Ronald explained, “If ye do nae marry us this day, ye will be responsible fer me defilin’ this fine woman.”
“What do ye mean?” The priest asked with a furrowed brow.
“Because I plan on beddin’ her within the next hour. Married or nae.”
Bridgett didn’t argue one way or the other.
The priest acquiesced immediately and married the two people. He might even have skipped reading passages from the bible. Connor supposed he wasn’t too worried about Bridgett’s soul.
As soon as Ronald and Bridgett were officially wed, they left the kirk in a hurry. The room erupted into laughter at watching the couple leave as if they were escaping from an English prison. Connor couldn’t blame them.
Of all the bride’s in attendance this day, Margaret was the only one who did not smile happily. Oh, her betrothed did, for reasons none of the MacCallens could quite understand.
But Margaret looked as though she were attending a funeral. She hadn’t changed into a pretty dress, hadn’t done up her hair or otherwise done anything to make it look like she was about to be married.
Connor and Onnleigh stood next to one another, acting as witnesses to the marriage. Occasionally, Onnleigh had to give Margaret a gentle nudge, for she appeared to be lost in a quiet misery.
As soon as Aiden kissed his bride, he took her by the hand. “We will be leavin’ now,” he told Connor. “We do thank ye kindly fer yer hospitality.”
Connor chuckled, but Onnleigh looked concerned. “We thank ye as well, Randall.”
Aiden shrugged his shoulders as if he hadn’t truly done anything of any import.
They discussed meeting again, but not until springtime.
There had been no time to plan for a wedding feast or celebration. Mayhap in a few days, after Connor had time to set his keep back to rights.
There was far too much to be done. For one, he had people to banish. For another, there was the little matter of his grandminny and Frazier Randall that required attention.
But for now, he chose to give his bride, Onnleigh, his full, undivided attention.
Prologue
Tender is the Heart
Margaret wasn’t given much time to fully grasp what was happening. The decision had been made. Her punishment, it seemed, was far worse than being hanged. She was being married off to Aide
n Randall.
An agreement had been made betwixt the two men. Finally, after decades of considering the Randalls their enemies, they would now consider them allies.
Margaret was numb, from the top of her head, to the bottoms of her feet. She hadn’t listened to half of Connor’s explanation, for she was too stunned with his proclamation.
Mayhap if she explained to both men why she could not marry, they might be apt to change their minds. But the explanation would require bringing her dark secret into the light of day. And that was something she simply did not have the strength or courage to do.
She now stood next to Aiden in the tiny kirk not hearing much of anything the priest was saying. Although dozens of candles burned brightly, Margaret saw nothing but darkness surrounding her.
Empty. That was the best way for her to describe how she felt. Empty. Devoid of any emotion other than a stark, bleak despondency.
With a gentle nudge from Onnleigh, Margaret muttered the words the priest sought from her. She simply repeated what he asked, not truly hearing the words. Most assuredly, she did not feel them, and later, she would not remember them.
Dazed and numb and empty, she went through the motions, wishing with all her might that the world would simply swallow her whole. Anything would be better than this.
Aiden pressed a tender kiss on her lips, but not even that could stir her from this dark, black place. If anything, she felt repulsed by his touch. If she’d had the energy to run, she would have.
No matter how Connor and Onnleigh had tried to assure her that Aiden Randall was a good man, that he would treat her well, she knew better. No man, no matter how honorable or kind, would be eager to have her as a wife if he learned her secret.
About the Author
USA Today Bestselling Author, storyteller and cheeky wench, SUZAN TISDALE lives in the Midwest with her verra handsome carpenter husband. All but one of her children have left the nest. Her pets consist of dust bunnies and a dozen poodle-sized, backyard-dwelling groundhogs – all of which run as free and unrestrained as the voices in her head. And she doesn’t own a single pair of yoga pants, much to the shock and horror of her fellow authors. She prefers to write in her pajamas.
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