Just as she grew weary of riding the horse, despite the pleasure of being so close to Gybbon, Mora saw the walls of Gormfeurach. She could see the men high up on the walls and felt her fear of what she might be bringing to the keep ease a little. Once behind those walls, it would be nearly impossible for Robert to get to anyone since she did not believe he had gained the power to order his whole clan into the field to fight.
They rode in through the gates once they were opened. For a while there was an organized confusion as everyone dismounted, the horses were led away, and the cart unpacked. Mora hurried to grab her bag and make sure Freya was secure. As they walked toward the steps she saw that a small woman stood waiting for them, her blood-red hair in a long, thick braid pulled forward over her shoulder. When Mora got closer she realized the woman had dark green eyes.
“Greetings,” the woman said, and held out her hand. “I am the Lady of Gormfeurach, Lady Annys Murray. Welcome to our home.”
Mora shook the woman’s hand and smiled. “’Tis a fine keep, m’lady.”
“Oh, please, call me Annys. I have ne’er gotten used to all the ‘m’lady this and that.’ Come in. Ye too, Gybbon. We have baths ready for ye and there will be a meal soon.”
The promise of a bath got Mora moving right along with Lady Annys. She desperately wanted to wash away the dust of her travels. Although she was listening carefully to what Lady Annys said as they went up the stairs, a lot of her mind was fixed firmly on getting her dusty gown off and sitting in a bath. Then she suddenly realized Andrew was not at her side.
“Where did Andrew go?” she asked Gybbon.
“Oh,” replied Annys, “the boy has gone off with my son Benet and my maid’s boys so that they can show him where he can clean up. Is that all right?”
“Of course. I was just startled as we have been kept close for the whole journey and then he was gone.”
Annys nodded and pointed to the room for Gybbon, who thanked her and hurried inside. To Mora’s surprise the woman then led her into the room right next to his. A slightly older, more buxom woman was just setting down a bucket of water next to a large wooden tub.
“Joan, this is Lady Mora Ogilvy, just arrived from Sigimor’s manor with Gybbon.”
“Greetings, m’lady. Your bath awaits.”
Before Mora could say much more than thank you, the two women left and a young girl entered to help her get out of her clothing. Mora gladly accepted the offer to clean the clothes, but then shooed the girl away and stepped into the tub. A sigh of pure pleasure escaped her as she sank into the water. She cleared her mind of all thoughts of her troubles and decided to simply enjoy her bath. Sadly, the troubles would still be there when her bath was done.
She sniffed the soap she scooped out of the dish and smiled at the soft scent of lavender. Her mother had loved that scent, she thought with a pang of sorrow as she washed herself. Freya came to stand with her paws on the edge of the tub and Mora suddenly recalled that she had brought in her bag.
“How did ye get out?” she asked the animal as she began to wash her hair. “I thought I had secured the bag closed.”
Freya reached a paw out and touched the water, then shook her paw dry. Mora laughed, only to have the cat do it again. Then she crossed her arms over her breasts when her door opened, but it was just the young maid.
“Oh, m’lady, I am so sorry.” The girl started to move toward Freya. “I dinnae ken how it got in here. I will just toss it outside.”
“Nay! ’Tis fine. The cat is mine. Is having it inside with me a problem?”
“Nay! I just thought it was one of the stable cats and it had somehow wandered in here. I came to see if ye needed your hair rinsed.”
“Aye, now that I think on it, I believe I do.”
She allowed the girl to finish the washing of her hair and then the rinsing of it. When the girl started to dry it for her, Mora wondered how she had managed without such luxury for so many years. She then sternly reminded herself she was not some grand lady who lived in a walled keep.
“I will lay out your clothes, shall I?” the girl said even as she started toward Mora’s bag.
“If Freya will allow it.” She stepped out of the tub and began to dry herself off, watching as the girl cautiously approached the bag, which Freya sprawled on top of.
Freya moved and Mora almost smiled at how the girl sighed with relief. She wrapped her hair and then walked over to where the girl had picked out her clothes before she picked up her shift and put it on. The girl hurried to do up her laces. In no time at all Mora was fully dressed in a gown she did not recognize and suspected her hostess had brought her in one. Mora thought how very easy it would be to become thoroughly spoiled by having servants to flutter around.
“Thank ye,” she said to the girl, then reached for the drying cloth that had been wrapped around her head. “What is your name?”
“Mary. I was the first here, so it is just Mary.” The girl took off the drying cloth and started to dry Mora’s hair even more. “There is Red Mary because of her hair color, Old Mary, and Big Mary. Being just Mary isnae such a bad thing.”
“Nay, I would have to agree with that.”
She allowed Mary to lead her to the fireplace and sit her on a stool while the girl slowly combed out her hair before the warmth of the fire that dried it even more. As Mary braided her hair, Mora decided she was getting too warm and hoped the girl worked quickly. She moved away from the heat as fast as she could when the girl said she was done.
Leaving Mary to deal with emptying the bath and forcing herself not to feel guilty about that, Mora stepped out of the room. Freya quickly trotted out to join her, and Mora sighed. Eating with her had obviously been a big mistake as she was not sure she could keep the cat away now. When she walked into the hall, she saw Gybbon near the head of the table and wondered where she should sit. Then he gestured to her to come and sit by him. Freya beat her to the place right next to him on the bench and Mora tried to ignore how both he and the man he was speaking with grinned at her.
“If it troubles ye, I will remove her,” Mora said.
“Nay, I have been warned. Cats dinnae bother me. My son walks around with one all the time. ’Tis why I am stuck in a chair much of the day at the moment.” He waved at his bandaged foot, which he had rested on the bench set near to him. “I am Harcourt Murray, Laird of Gormfeurach.”
“Ye just love saying that, dinnae ye?” teased Gybbon.
“I worked hard for it. Pleased to meet ye, Mora Ogilvy. I believe I met your father once when I visited Payton at court. Nice mon. Verra sorry for what happened to him and your mother.”
“Thank ye. He must have been young then as I can ne’er recall him mentioning that he had actually gone to the court.”
“He hated it nearly as much as I. Ah, food. The one thing I am allowed to do,” he muttered as he frowned at Annys, who just ignored him.
Mora hid her smile and watched as Gybbon put some meat on her plate. It troubled her that she felt no great urge to eat for she knew she should. As Harcourt and Gybbon taunted each other, she picked away at her food and thought that it was too warm in the hall. By the time the sweets were served, she could barely keep her eyes open and decided she needed to excuse herself. Saying all that was expected, she rose and walked slowly to the door. Taking a deep breath, she was only two steps into the hall and turned toward the steps leading to the next floor, when blackness swept over her so quickly she had no chance to make a sound, even when she hit the hard stone floor.
Gybbon heard the soft thud and stared in horror at Mora sprawled on the hard floor. He leapt up and ran out with Annys hurrying after him, but to his annoyance, the foolish cat got to Mora before any of them. He resisted the urge to shove it out of the way and picked Mora up, standing as Annys checked her head for any wound caused by the fall to the floor.
“Fool animal,” he muttered while he stared at the small cat sitting on Mora’s chest as he carried her up the stairs.
&nbs
p; “Nay, Gybbon. The cat is worried. I think Mora has spoiled it a bit.”
“A bit? Nay, dinnae frown, Annys. I actually like the animal. Now, I just wonder where Andrew is.”
“He is eating in the room where we feed the children, but I think he may have heard something because someone is running this way fast.”
“And we ken it isnae Harcourt,” he said, and Annys laughed.
“Mora!” Andrew cried out, and Gybbon thanked Annys for catching the boy before he slammed into him. “Easy, laddie,” he said to Andrew.
“She just fainted, Andrew. That is all,” Annys said as she stroked back the boy’s curls. “We just need to wake her and find out what made her swoon.” She looked at Gybbon with narrowed eyes and he shook his head, knowing she suspected he may have bedded down with Mora.
Gybbon set Mora on the bed and stared down at her, then frowned. She looked pale, but on her cheeks were two growing flags of red. She had shaken off the fever, he thought, as he felt her forehead and found it hot.
Annys also felt her forehead and frowned. “She has a fever, mayhap even a bad one. Is she ill?”
“Nay. She got a bad wound and became a little feverish, but it passed and the wound healed. Jolene just said she shouldnae ride for a week or so.”
“Good advice. Weel it has come back. Out.” She gently pushed both Gybbon and Andrew out of the room, then hurried to the head of the stairs to bellow for Mary and Joan. The two women came running up the stairs and then all three disappeared into Mora’s room. The door was shut firmly behind them.
Gybbon looked at Andrew and patted the boy’s back before leading him down the stairs. “She is in good hands, laddie.”
“What happened?” asked Harcourt when Gybbon sat back down beside him.
“Her fever has come back.”
“Annys will fix that and, if she cannae, we will send for Jolene or one of our own healers.”
That eased Gybbon’s worry and he turned his attention to an anxious Andrew. He had to do a lot of talking to the boy before he calmed down and finally went back to be with the other children. Gybbon stayed long enough to finish his meal with an outward calm. It was strange that she had gone down with a fever again, and Gybbon realized that he faced strange with little calm at all.
Chapter Twelve
Gybbon stepped into Mora’s bedchamber and watched Annys bathe her face with cool water. “Annys, go to bed,” he said quietly as he walked up to her. “Your husband wants company.”
“He just wants someone to complain to,” she said, but stood up and dried her hands. “She is a bit cooler now, and I had a good look at her healing wound thinking I may have missed something. There was no sign of infection, but I wouldnae expect any since it was Jolene who took care of it.” She shook her head. “So, I have nary an answer for why this fever came on.”
“It may be as simple as the journey she took to get here.”
“Aye. Mayhap it was too much too soon as I heard she spent the whole time stuck in the back of that cart and covered over.”
“Needed to keep her out of sight for her murderous cousin was following us.”
“Aye. She did too much too soon, that is all. Just because someone feels better or their fever fades doesnae mean they are truly ready and hale enough to make a journey, especially nay one where they must sit and hide in a cart. Do ye ken, it could even be just the constant worry and fear she must have been feeling for a long time now. I ken I had a lot of it when I was dealing with Adam and the possibility that he would win the battle for my home. It hasnae been so verra long since she had to bury her parents. She also must believe her brothers are dead as weel. Then there is a mad cousin doing all he can to kill her and her last surviving brother. A body can only take so many blows.”
He nodded but said nothing for he was still uneasy, but her words had worked to calm him a little. “How did Harcourt hurt his foot?”
Annys stopped just as she reached the door and looked back at him, smiling faintly. “Didnae he tell you?”
“Nay.” He could see her lips trembling as she fought what he suspected was hearty laughter. “Since there were so many of us round the table and everyone was talking, I let him mutter something about how he shouldnae have been on the stable roof anyway.”
“He was on the cursed roof because Roban was up there and Benet was afraid he would fall. A few little tears and Papa is getting up on the roof.”
“It is a cat and has more weight and more everything than even this one,” he said, and pointed at Freya, who was curled up at Mora’s side. “Animal could probably have nimbly leapt to safety all by itself. What harm could come to it?”
“Verra little I suspect, but Benet was scared. And, aye, the cat took care of itself once Harcourt got up there. Made a beautiful leap from the stable roof to the bathhouse roof and then to the ground. Unfortunately, Harcourt lunged after the cat and lost his footing. He was nay so graceful as he flailed around trying to grab anything that might stop or slow his fall. I had to get Benet to go away because the boy was so pleased with his cat he was boasting of how it had jumped, then wondering why his papa couldnae do that.” She grinned when Gybbon laughed. “Harcourt is verra lucky he didnae break more than his foot.”
“It is broken then, is it?”
“I think it might be, so I have treated it as a broken limb, but it was definitely twisted and badly wrenched.”
“Go on,” he said, laughing softly. “Big bairn was whining about a lonely bed.”
Annys giggled and hurried out the door. The image of his older brother climbing up something to get a cat because Benet shed a few tears was amusing. But he could understand why Harcourt did it. Looking down at Mora, Gybbon had to admit that he would probably do something similar if her cat looked to be in danger, but at least he would have the excuse that the cat was a runt that needed such protection.
He stroked Mora’s forehead, finding it only faintly warm. Then he noticed that the red in her cheeks was gone. This time if she roused free of the fever, she would be sternly instructed to go very carefully until she had been free of it for at least a fortnight. Or longer, he decided. He wet the cloth and gently bathed her face, hoping she could throw off this fever as easily as she had the other one.
“Is she going to be all right?”
Gybbon started in surprise at the small voice speaking up beside him. He looked down at Andrew and wondered how he had missed the sound of the boy entering the room. The child looked terrified and Gybbon could understand. Mora was all the boy had left of what had sounded like a very decent family.
“I believe so. She has already lost most of the burn of the fever.”
“Then why did she get it again?”
“Lady Murray thinks that your sister just had too much sadness, and then there was all the trouble caused by Robert, a wound, worry, and even fear, and it proved to just be too much.”
“Mora is little but she is strong. My da said so.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned over to lightly hug his sister. “She e’en beat him at chess once and Maman said she was stunned for few grown men could do that.”
“She is good at the game.”
Andrew stood up and tilted his head to the side as he asked, “Are ye staying here with her?”
“Weel, I think someone should, aye?”
“Aye, someone should. Good night, Sir Gybbon.”
“Good night, lad. Just where are ye sleeping?”
“With Benet and Joan’s lads at the end of the hall, so I willnae be verra far away if ye need to call me.”
“I will remember that. Sleep weel.”
He let the boy out and watched him run down to Benet’s door. To his surprise Benet and Joan’s two boys poked their heads out the door, grabbed hold of Andrew, and tugged him into the room. Gybbon hoped the boys suited each other well. Andrew could find himself with more brothers even if they were not blood connected. Bonds formed at their age could last a lifetime. Young as they were, all three coul
d understand the fear, sorrow, and anger Andrew had bubbling inside him.
Stepping back into the bedroom and shutting the door, Gybbon returned to Mora’s bedside. He reached down to brush her hair back and froze. She was shivering, shivering hard, like some poor, naked beggar caught out in the snow. Despite telling himself it did not mean anything truly bad, he felt the touch of panic.
When Annys tended someone, he remembered that she always left a bell for the one who would sit with the sick person, one they could ring and Annys would come. He told himself to let the poor woman sleep, but then Mora hissed out the words “so cold” between tightly clenched teeth. Going to the door, he found the bell. He could still hear Mora mumbling behind him as he stepped out into the hall and rang the bell, before hurrying back to her side.
In just a few minutes Annys rushed in and hurried over to the bed. Deciding he would not mention that her voluminous night shift was on inside out and backward, Gybbon had to fight a grin. She looked at Mora, then dashed over to the chest set near the fire, opened it, and pulled out another blanket. He took it from her and spread it over a still shivering Mora. They did that twice more in the next hour, but Mora continued to shiver slightly.
“I have ne’er understood why this happens, but it often does,” said Annys. “I have ne’er had anyone appear to have suffered badly from it though. Dinnae look. I am just going to take another quick peek at her wound.”
Gybbon just shook his head. As soon as she had Mora’s night shift tugged up, he glanced at the wound himself. It looked healthy to him, still sealed and no hint of the poison that could too easily grow in such injuries, making even the smallest one become deadly. It was just an ugly reminder of how someone wished her dead and did not belong on such smooth, pale skin.
Annys stood up, put the night shift back in place, and pulled up the covers. “Just keep her warm and, if anything else changes, ring the bell.”
Gybbon looked at the door Annys had shut and decided it would have to be a big change and a worrisome one before he rang that bell again or he would never hear the end of it from Harcourt. He stood by the bed and wondered what he should do. The blankets had not solved the problem. Then he recalled what he had done from time to time when a boy forced to sleep in a cold room with other boys.
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