Highland Sinner

by Hannah Howell

  “I ken it, but I need to give William some cream. He was a verra brave cat.”

  After a quick glance up the stairs to see if Morainn was coming down, and ignoring the sharp pang of disappointment he felt when he did not see her, Tormand followed Walin into the kitchen. Looking around, Tormand realized that the kitchen was even more proof that the laird of Dubhstane had gifted Morainn with a very fine home. Most people of her birth, the child of a midwife killed by a mob decrying her as a witch, would have one big room with a cook-fire in it and, at best, a small loft for sleeping in.

  He watched Walin pour some thick cream into a wooden bowl. There was a thud as the big cat jumped off the bench and went over to enjoy his reward. Like magic the other three cats appeared in the kitchen, but a low, throaty growl from the big tom kept them at a distance. A giggling Walin put some cream in another bowl and set it down for the other three cats to share.

  “William is going to become a verra fat cat.”

  The sound of that sweet, faintly husky voice immediately drew Tormand’s gaze to the speaker. Morainn gave him a shy smile that made his whole body go on point like some well-trained hunting dog. Despite the fact that he had not bedded a woman for months, Tormand knew the reaction he had to Morainn was alarmingly strong.

  “Thank ye for setting the table,” Morainn said, feeling a little uncomfortable beneath the steady gazes of six handsome men. “Walin,” she said, turning to smile at the boy, “come sit up at the table, please.” She let go a startled squeak when Tormand suddenly grabbed her by the arm. “What is it?”

  Tormand moved her thick braid aside to look more closely at the bruise he had caught a glimpse of when she had turned her head to look at Walin. “Where did ye get this? It looks like the print of a hand.”

  “Ah, that. The mon grabbed me from behind as I fled down the stairs, but I cut him with my knife and he released me.” She felt someone move up close behind her and glanced back over her shoulder to find Simon studying the bruising fanning across the back of her neck. “It doesnae feel as bad as it looks.” It ached badly, but Morainn knew she could have suffered far worse if she had not gotten away.

  “The mon has a verra big hand,” murmured Simon.

  “Och, aye, he did,” said Walin, as he took a seat at the table. “He was as big as a horse. A giant!”

  “Sit, Mistress Ross,” said Simon, his voice polite yet carrying the hint of command, “and ye can tell us what happened as ye eat. I am certain ye must be hungry.”

  Morainn took a seat at the table, a little disconcerted when Tormand sat next to her. She was distracted from the way his nearness made her body tingle, as if she had allowed the sun to shine on it for too long, when Harcourt sat down on the other side of her and began to heap food upon her plate. Placed between too men so much bigger than she was, Morainn felt a little overwhelmed, especially when one of those men was the one who could make her body heat and ache. A glance across the table showed her that Walin was seated between Simon and Rory and both men were quietly filling the child’s plate. It made her uneasy, for the way the men were taking care of her and Walin felt much too good. Morainn feared it could become something she could grow to crave and she would suffer when she lost it.

  “Before ye start your tale,” said Rory, his amber eyes glinting with humor, “I really must ken one thing. How do ye hide under a tree?”

  “Ah, weel, when I first came to live here the memory of how my mother died was still verra sharp,” replied Morainn. “Fearing a mob might yet come after me, I sought out hiding places in the woods surrounding me. One big old tree has thick roots that break up through the ground. It required only a little digging to make a hollow in the midst of the roots, giving me a weel-shadowed place to conceal myself in.”

  “Clever, especially considering ye were little more than a child,” said Simon.

  “Even the smallest child understands the need to stay alive.”

  “Verra true. So, mistress, if ye can eat and talk at the same time, I would verra much like to hear what happened to ye.”

  “I fear your killer is nay one mon, but is most definitely a mon and a woman.”

  Between bites of food, Morainn told them everything that had happened, carefully leaving out only what the murderous pair had said to each other. She felt sure that the words they had spoken held some hint as to who these people were. They needed to be discussed carefully and not simply stated like some tale told before the fire. There was no doubt in her mind that Simon would want to pick over every word those monsters had said to each other meticulously.

  “The mon had verra big feet,” said Walin when Morainn came to the end of her story, “and his horse was a huge beastie, too, with one white leg.”

  Morainn stared at the boy. “Ye were peeking.” She fought down a sudden anger she knew was born of fear for Walin. He could easily have been seen and she knew she would not have been able to save him.

  Walin blushed with guilt. “Only with one eye, Morainn. I didnae move at all or lift my head e’en a wee bit.”

  “Which leg on the horse had the white markings?” asked Simon.

  “Right foreleg,” replied Walin and then looked a little uncertain. “That is what ye call the front ones, aye?”

  “Aye, lad. Did ye see anything else with your one eye?”

  “Nay. The mon was verra, verra big and sat on a verra big horse and I would have had to move to see him better.”

  “So they were verra close to where ye were hiding then.” Simon looked at Morainn. “Ye said ye could hear them yet ye didnae repeat anything that they said. Did ye nay hear them clearly then?”

  “Aye, I heard them clearly.” Morainn fiercely controlled the urge to shiver in remembrance of that icy voice, of the insanity threaded through each and every word. “The first thing of importance, I think, is that they were both bleeding. William had to have inflicted a lot of damage to the woman’s face. Divine justice in a way,” she murmured and then shook herself free of the thoughts of what the killers had done to the other women. “The cat landed on her head and the fleeting glimpse I got showed it slashing and biting her head and face. William has verra long claws so the wounds may be verra deep. The mon also has two cuts although I cannae say how deep they may be. One is on his hand or his arm. The other may be on his body. I have nay doubt at all that I cut him, twice, but I didnae look to see exactly where or how badly. Since he was soon out hunting me they couldnae have been serious. He worried only about her injuries and about the trail of blood they were leaving on the ground. Mayhap a dog could find and follow that trail.”

  Simon nodded. “Anything else?”

  “They are watching Sir Tormand.” She glanced at Tormand and then quickly returned her gaze to her nearly empty plate. The steady gaze of his beautiful mismatched eyes made something very womanly and hungry stir inside of her and she wanted her voice to remain calm and steady as she finished telling them what she knew. “They kenned that ye had come to see me and were certain ye were using my powers to hunt them down. She badly wishes me dead ere I can help ye find them. She said ye,” she fixed her gaze on Simon, “would use my gift to find them and she isnae done yet.”

  “But why?” asked Tormand, dragging his hand through his hair. “Why are they doing this?”

  Morainn took a long drink of her cider, but it did little to ease her fear or wash away the taint of violent insanity that had hung in the air last night. “She wants ye to pay for all she has suffered, Sir Tormand, and for what she claimed was her humiliation and shame. She said she would never have been forced to marry if not for ye and that ye must suffer for it all. She also wants ye to suffer for choosing so many other women over her. Called them all whores.” She felt a sudden urge to hug him, to try to comfort him, when she saw how pale and shaken he was, but fiercely beat down that urge.

  “So it is about me,” he finally said, his voice hoarse and unsteady with the lingering effects of his shock. “It is my fault that these women are being murder
ed.”

  “Nay,” snapped Harcourt. “They are being killed because this bitch has lost her mind and seeks to blame someone for what she thinks are crimes against her. Many a lass has had her heart broken or bruised, or was made to marry some mon she didnae want, but nary a one of them took to slaughtering every woman she saw as her rival. If this woman seeks to blame someone for the misery of her life, why isnae she hunting down her husband or the kinsmen who forced her into the marriage?”

  “For all we ken, she already has,” said Simon. “And Harcourt is right, Tormand. The woman is mad. Ye cannae blame yourself for what she does.” He looked at Morainn. “And now she hunts ye, Morainn Ross. She fears ye might see her in one of your visions, doesnae she?”

  “Aye,” replied Morainn. “She doesnae doubt I am a witch and, as I told ye, she truly feels I will help ye find her.” She blushed faintly. “And because she believes Sir Tormand is bedding me now.”

  “I have only just met ye,” protested Tormand.

  Morainn sincerely doubted length of acquaintance mattered much to the man when it came to bedding a woman he wanted. The looks on the faces of the other men told her they felt the same, but she just said, “This woman believes ye have, e’en though her companion did have his doubts. She said ye had caught my scent and would run me to ground. She saw ye looking at me when we were at the Redmonds’. If she cared for ye once, she doesnae anymore. All she wants for ye is for ye to be shamed, condemned, and hanged.”

  “Jesu,” whispered Uilliam, the youngest of Tormand’s kinsmen. “Ye have to leave here now, Tormand.”

  “Nay!” Tormand realized he had come close to shouting and took a moment to calm himself. “Nay, I willnae run, nay doubt dragging this mad bitch behind me. I swear to ye, if Simon tells me ’tis time for me to hide, then I will, without argument. That is all I will promise to do.” He could see that his young brother was not happy, but Uilliam just nodded. Tormand turned to look at Simon. “And, ere ye ask, I have nay idea who this woman could be. I have ne’er even hinted at marriage to any lass and avoided all those who might e’en think of it.”

  “That doesnae mean some lass still didnae think it or might have wished it so,” Morainn said quietly, wondering why his words stung her heart. Many a bachelor spoke disparagingly of marriage. “This woman also sounded verra much like a spoiled child. If she had decided, in her own mind, that ye should be her husband, it wouldnae have mattered what ye did or didnae do, or say. She may have even done something verra foolish to catch your eye or entrap ye, something ye never e’en kenned about, and that was why she was made to marry a mon she didnae want.”

  “And so everything she has suffered since then has been my fault? That makes no sense.”

  “Of course it doesnae, nay to us. She is utterly mad.”

  “There were no names mentioned?” asked Simon.

  “Nay,” replied Morainn. “Once she called him Small, but I dinnae think that is his true name. Sounds a wee bit English, doesnae it, and he is definitely one of our own. He only called her m’lady. Oh, and when she suggested that the dog might help to find me she called it Dunstan. Fortunately, the mon told her that it would take too long to fetch the dog and she eventually heeded his pleas that they leave.” She smiled faintly. “It isnae much, is it? I am sorry.”

  “Ye have naught to apologize for. ’Tis far more than we had. If the weather holds, we may be able to get my dog out here and follow that blood trail.”

  “Ye dinnae sound verra confident that that will work.”

  Simon grimaced. “Mad or nay, these two are cunning. They havenae left me a sniff of a trail yet. I can follow them to where they did their evil work, but then all scent of them fades away.”

  “Ye do ken that ye arenae safe here now, dinnae ye?” asked Tormand.

  She did, but she was not sure what she could do about it. The fact that the men had been waiting for her at her door when she returned to her home meant that she had not had any time to think about the problem, either. With all the men staring at her, the courage needed to ask for their help faded and the words stuck in her throat. Morainn also felt annoyed that she had to ask men to help her at all. She knew that was foolish, that she had barely escaped with her life last night, but she knew pride often warred with good sense. She had lived ten years without leaning on a man to survive; she did not want to have to do it now.

  “I cannae just walk away from here,” she said. “I have chickens, cats, and a cow. Then there is my garden.”

  “We will take ye to my home in town,” said Tormand, the tone of his voice indicating he would hear no argument about it.

  Morainn gave him one anyway, although she was not really surprised when she lost it. She was also relieved that she had. It stung her pride to admit it, but she was deeply afraid to stay alone in her home with only a knife, a small boy, and an ill-tempered cat for protection.

  Her things were collected even as she continued to offer the occasional protest. Even her cats were secured in two small cages she used for taking chickens to market and then secured to the saddles of Rory’s and Simon’s horses, much to the animals’ loud disgust. Walin made no effort to hide his delight over the chance to go and stay with the men and to ride on a big horse with Harcourt. As Tormand led her toward his horse, Morainn looked at her cottage, her home for the last ten years, and wondered if she would ever return to it.

  A soft gasp escaped her when Tormand grabbed her around the waist and swung her up into the saddle. She was struggling to fix her skirts more modestly when he nimbly swung up behind her. Every time the man touched her it felt as if a fire licked at her skin. He wrapped his arms around her, took hold of the reins, and started them on their way.

  Morainn felt the warmth of his hard body seep deep into her soul and had to wonder if she was really going to be safe in his home. The killers might not be able to reach her there, but Tormand would, and Morainn was certain that Sir Tormand Murray could be dangerous in his own way. She might walk away alive when this trouble ended, but she feared she might not be taking her whole heart and soul away with her.

  Chapter 9

  The quiet of the house pulled Morainn’s attention away from the tarts she was setting out to cool. She had been in Tormand’s home for two days and, although the men went out a lot, it had never been this quiet. Now that she thought about it, the smell of her cooking should have had Walin lurking close at hand and she had not seen the child since they had shared their morning meal together in the great hall, listening to the plans the men made. With so many men keeping a close watch over the boy, Morainn knew Walin had to be safe and yet not seeing Walin for so long suddenly started to make her feel afraid. Deciding she would not cease worrying until she actually saw Walin, she went looking for him.

  After searching through the rest of the house the only place she had left to look was the room where Tormand kept his ledgers. Morainn stood in front of the closed door, hesitant to intrude upon the man’s private room, but her growing need to know where Walin had gone refused to be ignored. She realized that some of her hesitancy was because Tormand might actually be inside the room.

  Since her arrival at his home Morainn had seen Tormand only when they all sat down to their meals. It was as though the man was avoiding her. That hurt, but she knew it was probably for the best. She just wished it was enough to make her stop longing for him. Instead, it was making the longing all the more keen. Shaking her head over her own foolishness, Morainn rapped on the door to see if Tormand was in there. When there was no reply, she called out his name as she slowly opened the door, allowing him more time to reply before she fully intruded upon his work.

  Tormand watched the door slowly open and sighed. He had been doing his best to ignore the fact that he and Morainn were alone in the house except for her cats. His best had not been very good, for he had done very little work considering the hours he had spent hiding in his ledger room. Every time he tried to think of another name to add to the list Simon was forcing
him to make, his mind began to wander down a path that led straight to a naked Morainn spread out beneath him, crying out his name as he gave her pleasure.

  The list, he suddenly thought, and stared at the paper in front of him in horror. Tormand frantically searched for something to put over it to hide it from sight. Even as Morainn took her first step into the room, he put his ledger book on top of the list and opened it just to make sure that the heavy book completely covered the infamous list of lovers.

  “Oh, I am sorry,” Morainn said. “I knocked and called, but ye made no sound.”

  He stood up and moved to the front of his desk as he smiled at her. Leaning against the desk, he crossed his arms over his chest and tried not to look as guilty as he felt. Trying to block the sight of a list that was already well covered by his ledger was idiocy, but that did not make Tormand move. As he had worked on that list he had begun to feel less and less like a great lover and more like the rutting fool Simon had called him. In truth, the man appearing in his mind’s eye as he wrote down name after name was not one he liked very much. He did not want Morainn to see that part of him, a part he had just decided would now be no more than part of his reckless past.

  “I was but slow to answer as I was working on something,” he said. “Can I help ye with something?”

  “Weel, it feels foolish to e’en ask because I ken that Walin has been weel taken care of and protected, but do ye ken where he is now?”

  “Uilliam took him for a ride back to the cottage so that the boy could attend to a few chores. Harcourt is with them.”

  Morainn was relieved, but also somewhat dismayed. “I must find someone to tend to those things until I can return home. It isnae right that ye, or any of the others, are troubled by the need to take me or Walin to see to what are my duties.”

  “And ye shouldnae be troubled by doing a housekeeper’s work while ye are staying here.” A little more relaxed, Tormand was able to move away from his desk and walk to the table near his shelves of books where he kept some wine and small tankards. “Did I e’er apologize for that cursed woman’s ignorance and unkindness?” he asked, as he poured them each some wine.