Cicilia! What has happened?
Horrible images of her, or God forbid, one of the twins, ran through Alexander’s head. Injured, amputated, or worse. He didn’t know what he could do to stop it, but he knew he must.
As he tumbled out of the front door, the air was thick with the cloying smell of blood, and for just a moment, panic threatened to overwhelm him.
As he hurried toward the screaming, it mixed with other awful sounds. He heard distressed braying in the distance as the horses woke to the coppery tang and panicked, heard panicked clucking from the henhouses, distressed mooing from the cows—but no bleating from the sheep, no grunting from the pigs.
When he passed the first slaughtered ram, he knew why. Horrified, but unable to stop, he sped up his pace until he finally saw Cicilia staring frozen at the fence while the twins wailed behind her.
What in the blazes?!
He ran to her side, glancing in horror at the bloody message written on the fence.
A warnin’? From who?
Alexander put one hand on each of Cicilia’s shoulders, trying to bring her out of the panic, trying to focus her. “Cicilia. Cicilia!” he said, over and over.
At last, her eyes focused, though they were still wide and wild. They darted up to meet his, and the scream tapered into a weak, broken sound. “They’re deid, Alexander,” she said. “They’re all deid. Who’d do such a thing?”
Alexander didn’t know how to respond. Despite the direness of the situation, a warmth filled him at her using his first name. That in itself was strange. Usually, if anyone except Catherine and her family, Thomeas, or Nathair spoke to him so informally, it made him furious. But when Cicilia said his name so…well, it felt nice.
“Cicilia,” he said awkwardly, trying to find the words of comfort to encapsulate the shocking loss that had just occurred. He couldn’t find the words and was more surprised when she burst into fresh sobs and leaned her head against his chest. Slowly, hesitantly, he put his arms around her.
It was a gentle embrace at first, but as she clung to him, he relaxed a little, releasing her arms and wrapping his own around her. One rubbed the small of her back, slowly soothing, while the other stroked her hair.
Then he looked to the crying twins. “Are ye hurt?” he asked them softly.
“Bacon!” Annys sobbed and ran towards the embracing pair, Jamie following a second later.
Typically, such uninvited contact would have set Alexander on edge, making his skin crawl and his teeth grind. Today, though, he held the sobbing farmer and cuddled the crying children and gave them what little comfort he possibly could.
Words are nothin’ here. All I can offer is me embrace.
And so he offered it as the sun finished rising and more and more of the farm’s residents discovered the carnage. Human yells and shouts joined the upset animals, and this just made Cicilia and the twins cry harder. For the first time since he’d met her, Cicilia had no words. She seemed to have no fight left in her at all.
After learning that Old Ewan was staying with his daughter on the farm rather than at home the previous night, Nathair spent the night with Jeanie in the village instead. “To keep her company, is all,” he’d said virtuously, unperturbed by Alexander’s disapproving look.
When he arrived back with her to nothing but disaster, he was more than a little shocked. The two of them walked into the parlor, arm in arm, to see Alexander was placing a blanket around Cicilia’s shoulders. At the same time, the twins were asleep and huddled together on the couch.
“What in the name o’ God happened here?” he asked, eyes wide as he took in how pale their host seemed to be. “Why are the farmhands millin’ about like there’s been a murder?”
“Because there has,” Cicilia sobbed in a muted voice from under her blanket. To Nathair’s utmost surprise, Alexander soothingly ran a hand over her hair, as if it was an automatic response.
Actually, the whole scene was strange and not in a good way. Jeanie gasped and ran to Cicilia’s side, but Nathair simply narrowed his eyes at Alexander, trying to work out what was going on.
He’s a mess. I’ve nae seen him so disheveled in public since we were bairns.
Jeanie was clucking soothingly over the clearly devastated Cicilia. “What happened? Who died? Are me mammy an’ daddy all right? Me grandda?”
Alexander looked up at last, and Nathair was shocked to see how haunted his friend’s blue eyes seemed. “Nae body is hurt,” he told Jeanie quietly. “But Cicilia’s had quite the upset. Would ye mind terribly, Miss McCaul, stayin’ here wi’ her while I have a word wi’ me Man-at-arms?”
Jeanie still looked worried, but she chewed on her lip and nodded. “Aye, o’ course, Laird,” she said. She gave Nathair a questioning look, and he gave her a slight shrug in return.
Alexander thanked her and stood, seeming unwilling to leave the crying woman or the sleeping twins. He caught Nathair’s eye, and that was enough. Nathair didn’t need any more than that to follow his Laird out of the room, senses on high alert.
When they were outside the parlor door, Alexander exhaled, leaning against the wall and shaking his head. “Lord God above,” he muttered, a prayer and a curse all in one.
“What happened here?” Nathair asked him urgently. “I dinnae think that lass was capable o’ fallin’ apart like that? Why—”
“The animals,” Alexander told him, his usually smooth voice uncharacteristically rough. “The pigs, the sheep. The goats an’ all. Somebody slaughtered them, all o’ them, while we slept.”
A chill fell over Nathair. “Slaughtered? What do ye—?”
“They’re deid, each an’ every one. I dinnae ken how the farm is gonnae…” Alexander started, then scowled, obviously angry and upset, and a thousand other emotions at once.
When was the last time I saw him so passionate? I dinnae recall anythin’, at least nae since his parents went.
“An’ the horses?” Nathair asked.
“They’re fine, thank God,” Alexander told him. “Ours an’ the farm’s.”
Nathair nodded. That was something, at least.
“I offered to buy her a couple o’ sows an’ some ewes to get them through,” Alexander continued. “They dinnae just sell the animals, either, that was where most o’ their food came from. We cannae just leave them.”
Nathair’s blond eyebrows rose high on his forehead. He knew that Alexander was generous—and, in truth, he’d always been a giving lad—but his friend was never so open about such things. He didn’t comment, however, knowing that it would only bring Alexander discomfort. “An’ the bairns?”
“Their pet pig, the one we met on the first night, he’s gone,” Alexander said grimly. “It was all we could do to bathe the blood off them an’ then let them go to sleep. Poor mites.”
Nathair surveyed Alexander. He wasn’t honestly shocked to hear that he’d helped take care of the children, of course, but again—for him to do so outright was more than a little surprising. “Ye’re in yer night things,” he said after a moment, only because he could think of nothing else to say.
“I dinnae exactly have time to make sure I was neat before I dealt wi’ the death an’ the screamin’,” Alexander retorted.
Since when? Ye’d shine yer shoes before goin’ to battle!
But all Nathair said out loud was, “Aye. Does Cicilia have any ideas o’ the culprit?”
Alexander shook his head, looking troubled. “Nay. Apart from the house staff—the maid, Katie, an’ the Humphries—the only people between here an’ the village are the farmers an’ servants in their wee huts on the outskirts o’ the land. Cicilia says she trusts all of them wi’ all her heart, and cannae picture them doin’ such a thing.”
Nathair nodded, folding his arms. “An’ the village is a four-hour round trip. If somebody did this o’er night, me an’ Jeanie would o’ ran into them on the way back.”
Alexander sighed. “Aye, indeed. I was hopin’ ye could help me solve this puzzle. I ken
Mr. and Mrs. Humphries are yer Jeanie’s parents. Do ye think ye an’ her could ask around the place, see if ye can dig anythin’ up from the servants an’ the workers?”
“Aye,” Nathair agreed absently. His mind was racing so much that he barely noticed the ‘yer Jeanie’ comment. “I’ll set her to it. Meanwhile, I’ll ride out an’ see if there’s anyone still in the perimeter. See if I cannae find some tracks, or blood trails, or the like.”
“Good plan,” Alexander replied. “Thank ye, Nathair. I dinnae ken what I’d do without ye.”
“Flounder like a fish on the shore, most likely,” Nathair told him with an attempt at a grin. “When the bairns awake, tell them I’ll return wi’ some sweet treats for them.”
Alexander smiled back, though his eyes were still sorrowful. “I will. Ye’re a good man, Nathair.”
Nay, Sandy. I might do me best, but ye’re the one who’s got the heart o’ gold.
“I might be a while, especially if I have to trail a’ the way back to yonder village,” Nathair said. “What’ll ye do while I’m gone?”
The Laird had already turned back to the door, but he glanced over his shoulder with one of the grimmest expressions on his face that Nathair ever remembered seeing. “Everythin’ an’ anythin’ I can do to make this a wee bit easier on her,” Alexander replied, and then he went back inside to Cicilia’s side.
Nathair looked at the spot where Alexander had been, a small smile on his face despite the tragedy. Jeanie exited the room a short while later, and as the pair of them walked down to the kitchen, Nathair pondered Alexander’s last words in his head.
Everythin’ an’ anythin’, he says. And do ye ken, I think he means it.
Chapter 11
Ductus Exemplo
To Lead By Example
Nathair and Jeanie only returned once during the day, to let Alexander know that their questioning of the farm’s residents had given them nothing. The two traveled out to seek a trail, while Alexander focused all his efforts on the traumatized farmer and her siblings.
“I just dinnae understand,” Cicilia kept telling him. “I dinnae get why anybody would do such a horrible thing.” She had stopped crying after a while, but her face was still pale, her eyes still wild.
“I dinnae ken either, Cicilia,” Alexander said for the hundredth time as they sat together in the library. He didn’t mind repeating himself. He knew she just needed to work the grief out of her system, and he could do nothing but serve as a sounding board yet.
An’ besides, it is nae just the loss o’ the animals. This is her faither’s farm, an’ the poor lass feels like she’s lost him all over again.
She hadn’t said as much, but Alexander was sure that he was right in thinking so.
They’d moved to the library as a distraction. Still, Cicilia couldn’t focus on books, and so Alexander had simply sat with her. He had embraced her and muttered soothing things when she cried earlier. Now, he didn’t try to speak or comfort her unless she asked.
He was trying not to think about his own current appearance. The whole morning had gone, and he was still in his rumpled nightclothes. Not even so much as a comb had run through his hair. It filled him with more discomfort than he would like to admit…and, yet, he couldn’t leave Cicilia’s side, not until she explicitly asked him to go.
She may nae yet want to talk much, but I ken how someone just sittin’ quietly beside ye can help ye through the first hours.
“Did ye mean it?” she asked quietly.
“Hm?” Alexander looked up, distracted from his thoughts. “Did I mean what?”
“About…about buyin’ me a few animals. Ye need nae feel obligated, Laird,” Cicilia said. Her voice was hesitant and unsure, a far cry from how he’d heard it before now. “Ye dinnae—”
“Dinnae be ridiculous,” Alexander interrupted with a snort. “I ken I’ve got a bit o’ a tough reputation, but I just want order. I dinnae want me people to starve.”
He turned to look at her and was much surprised by the way she looked at him in return. There was something unreadable behind her reddened eyes, and her full lips were slightly parted. “Thank ye, Laird,” she practically whispered.
Alexander stared at her. She was so small, and while she was not especially slender, it was the muscle of farm work and the delightful curves of womanhood that gave her such a unique form. Her hair, though it frustrated him with its disorder, was fascinating, even now as it frizzed uncombed around her head.
She couldn’ae be less like Ilene if she tried.
Her eyes, those strange eyes which looked so much greener after her tears, and that odd golden glint that set her apart. The freckles that Alexander had once thought marred her skin, emphasized the prettiness of her blush.
He would never think inappropriately of a woman in such a state of grief. In fact, he rarely had time to think of women inappropriately before in any sort of situation. But despite how infuriating she was, despite how disordered, despite how they quarreled every second they were together, something changed at that moment.
As she watched him with gratitude and surprise and a thousand other emotions, the sun’s light emphasizing her messy hair and dirty night things, Alexander could only think one thing.
She’s like somethin’ from another world that I cannae understand. Frustratin’, nonsensical, dangerous, even…but rare bonny. I’ve never kent a sight so lovely as this messy lass.
Before he could catch himself, he opened his mouth, unsure what he would even say. “Cicilia, I—” he started.
He was interrupted as the door opened, and the young twins entered. They were clean and fresh after their baths and their naps, but sorrow still wore heavily down upon their little bodies.
Cicilia got to her feet and rushed over to them, holding them both in one embrace. “Och, me buttons. How are ye?”
“Sad,” Annys said bluntly. “Right sad, Cil. Katie said ye were in the library an’ we needed to see ye, because of …because…”
Her little voice cracked into a sob, and Jamie took over. “Is Bacon really deid, like Daddy?” the little boy asked.
Annys elbowed him. “We are nae supposed to tell!”
Alexander was about to tell them it was fine, but Cicilia spoke up first. “Dinnae ye worry,” the lass told the little ones gently. “We can trust the Laird.”
Those words made Alexander’s heart flutter, but he didn’t even have time to work out his reaction before Cicilia had led the twins over to sit at the same table where he was still waiting.
When the children sat, Annys said uncertainly, “Daddy got us Bacon. He’d be right sad if he kent we let him die. Can he see us from heaven? Will he be angry?”
Alexander saw the tears forming in Cicilia’s eyes and knew he had to act. These children were heartbroken enough at the loss of their pet; it would not do to allow them to believe their father was furious with them beyond the grave.
“Nay, Annys,” he said gently. From the corner of his eye he saw Cicilia’s head swivel to look at him but he didn’t react, keeping his eyes focused on the twins instead. “Aye, Jamie, I’m sorry, but Bacon’s gone the same way yer faither has. But dinnae ye worry, yer daddy will nae be mad. Nae at all.”
“How do ye ken?” Jamie asked, sniffling as he wiped his eyes.
“Well,” Alexander told him. “I ken because me mammy an’ me daddy are up there.” It had been many years since he called his parents by such childish names, but right now, it seemed only fitting.
Annys gasped. “Do ye think me mammy an’ daddy are friends wi’ yers, Mr. Laird?”
Alexander smiled, his heart warming a little. They just sought comfort, and it was his duty as a Laird and as a man to give it. “Ye two can call me Alexander if ye like,” he told them. “We’re friends, are we nae?”
Both twins nodded in unison, their eyes fixed on his face, clearly held rapt by his every word.
“An’ aye, I think so,” he went on. “I bet me parents an’ yer parents are watchin�
� right now, an’ they’re right proud o’ ye. An’ yer daddy will nae be angry about Bacon because Bacon’s just gone to keep him company. Yer daddy kens how much ye looked after him, and now he’s gonnae look after him instead.”
Cicilia spoke up, at last, her voice sounding choked like she was biting back more tears of her own. “Aye, the Laird is right. Daddy’s lookin’ after Bacon now, an’ our mammy is as well. They miss us, but they have each other to keep them company, aye?”
Annys and Jamie looked at each other uncertainly. Then Annys said hesitantly, “Well…I ken that’s a good thing, I guess, but…” Her face screwed up again. “But what about us? Bacon was our friend!”
A Hellion for the Highlander: A Steamy Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 9