Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3

by Ceci Giltenan

  The morning after the fire, he had tasted the drops of wine that remained in the decanter. There was a bitter aftertaste that he couldn’t place at the time. Now he knew what it was. The wine had been laced with the ingredient in that pain draft. Dear God, if they had both consumed enough of it, he would not have awakened in time to put out the fire. They would have been killed. Hearn was right.

  Gillian didn’t push him for details until he was out of the bath and dressed. When the servants arrived to remove the tub he said, “I haven’t had a chance to get report from Diarmad today. Would ye send up the evening meal and ask him and Quinn Mackenzie to dine with us here?”

  The servants agreed and left. Gillian looked irritated. “I thought ye were going to tell me what has ye worried, not discuss the events at Brathanead today.”

  “Gillian, I am concerned about several things and I would like them to hear as well.”

  “If it is that serious, perhaps we should include Eadoin and maybe the elders?”

  He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Nay, lass. I would like to just talk with ye, Diarmad, and Quinn for the moment.”

  “But why not Eadoin at least?”

  “I know this is hard to believe, but I don’t think my cinch breaking was an accident. In fact, I know it wasn’t.”

  “And ye think Eadoin is involved?” She looked outraged.

  “Nay, love, I don’t. However, I just want to be cautious for now.”

  “So, no MacLennans. Perhaps I should leave?”

  “Gillian, please. Let me just explain things to the three of ye and we will decide what to do then.”

  “Eadoin is one of my oldest friends. I would trust him with my life. Until very recently I would have trusted him more than I would Eithne MacIan’s son.”

  Her words hurt more than he wanted to admit. He thought she had let go of her anger. He sighed. “I know ye would, Gillian.”

  She must have read the hurt in his expression because she immediately became contrite. “Fingal, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I love ye and I trust ye. I just—I just...”

  “It’s all right, sweetling, I understand.” He kissed her hand again. “Really, I do.” How could he explain it to her? “Gillian, ye aren’t going to want to hear what I have to tell ye and neither will Eadoin. The fact is someone partially cut the cinch on my saddle. They did it after Hearn saddled Con this morning.”

  “Nay, Fingal. Surely ye don’t believe that. Cinches wear down. Have Hearn look at it. He’ll tell ye it was just misfortune.”

  “Gillian, love, ’twas Hearn who found the damage. It wasn’t misfortune. The person who did it sliced into the leather behind a worn spot. The damage weakened the cinch enough to cause it to give way under stress. I suspect they intended it to look like an accident.”

  “But ye could have been killed. Surely ye don’t think...nay, Fingal, ye can’t think that. Everyone swore their fealty to ye. This is a mistake.”

  “I pray God it is. But can ye understand why I want to talk with the people I trust the most first?”

  “And ye don’t trust the MacLennans.” The resignation in her voice pulled at his heart.

  “I trust ye, and ye are a MacLennan.”

  They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Quinn and Diarmad arrived along with several servants carrying trays of food and two extra chairs.

  “Laird, are ye sure ye’re up to this tonight? I can give ye report tomorrow,” offered Diarmad.

  “I’m fine Diarmad, and I am anxious to hear about progress on the wall.”

  Diarmad frowned but said, “As ye wish.”

  They engaged in casual conversation until the meal had been served and the servants were dismissed. Then Diarmad said, “I am fairly certain ye don’t wish to talk about the wall. What has happened?”

  As quickly as he could he told them about what Hearn had discovered.

  “Cut?” Diarmad asked. “Ye are certain?”

  “Aye, there is no question.”

  Quinn glanced cautiously at Gillian before asking, “Do ye trust this man, Hearn?”

  Gillian’s eyes had been downcast until this and she looked up sharply, waiting for his response. “Aye, I do,” Fingal answered firmly.

  Diarmad nodded. “I agree. He seems to be a very good man, Laird. Father Colm often says that children and dogs are the best judges of character. Clearly the hounds trust and obey him, but ye can’t be too careful. Does something else bolster yer confidence?”

  Fingal took Gillian’s hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “Hearn is singularly concerned about Gillian and her sisters’ welfare. Both Hearn and I believe whoever is behind this may be willing to take Gillian’s life too.”

  Gillian recoiled, yanking her had from his. “Fingal, I can’t believe someone is trying to kill ye and now ye are suggesting that they might try to kill me too? That is preposterous. Why would ye or Hearn, for that matter, think that?”

  Quinn too seemed shocked. “That does seem a bit of a leap. After all, cutting the cinch to yer saddle would be unlikely to cause Lady Gillian any harm.”

  However, a look of stunning realization crossed Diarmad’s face. “The fire,” was all he said.

  “Aye, the fire,” agreed Fingal.

  “What fire?” Quinn asked.

  Fingal filled him in on the story.

  Gillian shook her head in confusion. “But Fingal, ye said yerself it was an accident—a log rolled from the hearth.”

  “At the time I couldn’t imagine that it was anything other than an accident. But I know I banked the fire before coming to bed. I also know the pitcher was nearly full, but when I grabbed it to throw water on the burning log, it was empty.”

  “Ye didn’t tell me that.”

  “Nay, I didn’t want to worry ye.”

  “Maybe ye were mistaken about the water.”

  “I’m sure I wasn’t and the rush mat was wet. I still don’t understand why someone would do that. The room might have been ablaze before I woke otherwise. The smoke from the rushes was bad enough. Still, even if I am mistaken, what concerns me the most is the wine ye drank. Do ye remember? I had only taken one sip before ye knocked my goblet over.”

  She blushed. “Aye, I remember.”

  “I said it didn’t taste very good and didn’t drink any more but ye had had a full goblet. Do ye remember thinking it had gone to yer head a bit? Ye fell asleep as soon as ye hit the bed.”

  “Aye, but I usually water my wine.”

  “Ye said that at the time, but ye don’t always water yer wine and it hasn’t happened since. However, there is something else which I only realized tonight. The next morning when I went to check the damage, I tasted the tiny bit of wine that remained in the decanter. I noticed the bitterness again.”

  “But I told ye we couldn’t afford good quality wine.”

  “I know ye did. Ye also said sometimes herbs were added to improve the flavor. I thought perhaps that is what I tasted. The flavor seemed familiar to me, but I couldn’t place it, at least not until Agnes mentioned pain potions earlier and I remembered the one Katherine had given me when I was injured last year.”

  Diarmad chuckled. “Ye complained like young Tomas over the way that tasted.”

  Fingal smiled. “It’s bitter swill. But, Gillian, it is what I tasted in the wine.”

  Gillian was aghast. “Ye think someone drugged it?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  “But why?”

  “I suspect it was to make certain we slept soundly while they slipped into our room and pulled a log from the fire.”

  “But ye said ye didn’t drink the wine,” observed Quinn.

  “I didn’t, not more than a mouthful anyway.”

  “That hardly seems like enough to knock ye out. Ye were never a heavy sleeper and the hinges on yer chamber door are far from silent. I remember as a lad the noise of a mouse in the rushes could wake ye and have ye reaching for a weapon.”

  Fingal chuckled. “I a
m not quite as light a sleeper as I once was, but ye’re right, I can’t explain that. I suppose a mouthful of drugged wine might have made me sleep a bit more soundly. But if it was that potent, an entire goblet could possibly have killed Gillian. Still, I am no longer willing to believe it was an accident.”

  He had to be wrong. She asked again, “But why, Fingal? Why would someone want to kill ye, or me? Who would stand to gain from it? Ye have only helped make us stronger since ye have been here. The king made ye laird and by requiring that we wed. No one else has any claim to the title. There is simply no reason for anyone to do this.”

  Fingal had been wrestling with the same question but he had no intention of telling her who he suspected. She was right that the clan’s circumstances had improved since he arrived, but there was someone who stood to gain if both he and Gillian were killed—Fallon.

  Fingal did not suspect that Fallon herself was behind any of this. As much as it sickened him to admit it, their mother Lana was a different story. She was one of the few members of the clan who still treated him with open disdain. The way she favored Fallon over Gillian and Ailsa was obvious to everyone. Even more damning, she had been pushing for a betrothal for Fallon since Gillian and Fingal were married. If she wanted Fallon to be Lady MacLennan it would certainly be better for the clan, and avoid the king’s interference again if she were already married. Lana would have had the opportunity to drug the wine and cut the cinch. For that matter, if he had awoken to Lana entering the room the night of the fire, she could have blustered in her usual fashion and come up with some excuse for being there.

  Nay. Fingal could not tell Gillian this—not without proof and perhaps not even then. Even though his own mother had been cruel to him as a child, the pain he felt at learning how completely she betrayed the MacIans devastated him. He did not want Gillian to suffer this, especially if there was any chance he was wrong. But if he was right, Gillian was every bit as much a target as he.

  “I don’t know what the reason might be, Gillian, but I am not willing to risk yer life simply because I don’t understand why it is in danger.”

  “But Fingal—”

  “Nay, Gillian. Quinn asked me if I trusted Hearn, and I do. Do ye?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then even if ye doubt me, put yer trust in him. He fears for yer life.”

  As the realization sank in, Gillian’s shoulders sagged and she blinked rapidly, as if holding back tears. Fingal took both of her hands in his. “I’m sorry, love. I know this is painful. I will find out who is at the bottom of this but until I do, I will take no chances. Do ye understand?”

  She bit her lip and nodded, avoiding eye contact, still obviously fighting to maintain her composure. Her distress caused him more pain than he thought possible. Even Bodie must have sensed it because he crossed the room and laid his head in her lap. Dear God, what would it do to her if her mother was actually behind this? Fingal had to make sure that if Lana was manipulating things, she didn’t have a reason to continue. And if it wasn’t Lana, Gillian still had to be protected.

  He cupped her cheek in his hand and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. “I love ye, Gillian. I will not see ye harmed in any way. Until I am sure ye are not at risk, I want ye guarded at all times. If ye are not with me or in this room with the door barred and Bodie at yer side, a guardsman will be assigned to watch over ye. Promise me ye will abide by this.”

  “I still don’t believe I am in danger from someone in my own clan.”

  “I know ye don’t, but please, love, give me yer promise.”

  She heaved a sigh and stroked Bodie’s head. “I don’t like it and I hope ye are wrong, but ye have my promise.”

  Chapter 20

  Fingal woke early the next morning. His head still ached some but other than that he felt fine. He slipped out of bed, leaving Gillian asleep. There were things that he needed to do immediately to ensure her safety. First, he needed to speak with Eadoin. After his discussions the previous evening he had weighed the value of telling Eadoin his suspicions against the risk that Eadoin was involved in some way. Aside from having no motive, Gillian trusted Eadoin implicitly. She viewed him as she would a brother. Fingal had to take a leap of faith and trust him too.

  As it was early, he sought Eadoin out at his cottage in the village. Alana came to the door with Kiora on her hip. “Laird, this is a surprise, please come in.”

  Eodoin appeared behind her instantly, laying a protective hand on her shoulder. “Laird, is something wrong?”

  Fingal smiled and tickled Kiora. “Nay, Eadoin. I just wanted the opportunity to speak with ye alone.”

  “Certainly, Laird. We can talk outside if ye wish. Or I can come to the keep with ye.”

  “We can talk out here.”

  “Very well.” Eadoin stepped around Alana, giving her a quick kiss before shutting the door.

  Fingal furrowed his brow. He anticipated as difficult a conversation as he had had with Gillian the previous evening.

  “Something is wrong, Laird. What has happened?”

  Fingal sighed. There was no easy way to do this. “Eadoin, my fall yesterday was not an accident. Hearn found evidence that someone cut the leather behind a worn spot on the cinch.”

  “He is certain?”

  “Aye, he is. He believes someone was trying to kill me.”

  Eadoin frowned. “By all the saints, Laird, I can’t believe it. But if Hearn is certain, that is the only explanation. When did ye learn this? Who else knows?”

  Fingal proceeded to tell him about his discussion the previous evening. “Eadoin, I’m sorry. It isn’t that I don’t trust ye. I just needed to—”

  “Laird, say no more. I understand. I’m sure Gillian was irritated, but if someone is trying to kill ye, ye can’t be too careful.”

  “Eadoin, there is more. I worry that I am not the only target.” He told Eadoin about the suspicious circumstances surrounding the fire and his realization last evening that the wine Gillian drank was drugged.

  Eadoin was stunned but did not argue against the facts. “I agree. Gillian is in danger, but I am relieved to know the fire wasn’t yer fault. I will admit, Laird, it worried me to think ye had been so careless.”

  It was Fingal’s turn to be stunned. “It’s easier for ye to believe it was an attempt on our lives instead of my carelessness?”

  “I don’t want to believe someone in the clan wishes to see ye dead, Laird, and I can’t fathom why they would. But aye, ye swore before God to love, honor, keep, and guard her. I’m glad to know ye haven’t failed in that.”

  “This new danger makes keeping those vows harder than ever.”

  “Do ye have any clues as to who it might be?”

  Fingal shook his head. “As far as I can tell the only one who stands to gain by both of our deaths is Fallon and nay, I don’t think she is remotely involved in any of this.”

  Eadoin looked away, clearly waging some internal battle.

  “Don’t tell me ye think her capable of plotting this evil.”

  “Nay, Laird. Ye are right, she wouldn’t...but Lana might.”

  Fingal nodded. “I hope ye’re wrong, but I feared as much.”

  “I don’t want to believe she would do this. It’s true Lana isn’t as warm toward Gillian and Ailsa as she is toward Fallon, but it’s more than that. She has always believed great things lay in store for Fallon. Even last year, when Malcolm and Duncan were both dead, she pushed the elders to make Fallon chieftain.”

  Fingal stared, aghast. “Ye aren’t serious. Over Gillian?”

  “Aye, and Meara. Gillian put her foot down and insisted on Meara leading the clan. Lana wasn’t happy.”

  “What would have made her think Fallon was a better choice than Gillian?”

  “It’s like I said, she has always said Fallon was destined for greatness.”

  “Why does she believe that?”

  “Ye’ve met Rhiannon?”

  “Aye.”

  �
�Well, folks believe she is a seer.”

  “Is she?”

  “I don’t know. She does seem to have a gift. Lots of people can point to accurate predictions she’s made. Sometimes though, I think people see what they want to see.”

  “What do ye mean?”

  “Well, for example, she predicted profound changes for the clan before Malcolm attacked Duncurra last year.”

  “It would seem she got that right.”

  “Aye, but people find a way to fit reality into a prediction. Had Malcolm been victorious, doubled the size of our holding, and brought ye back as his heir the same thing would have been true.”

  “I suppose it would have been but what does this have to do with Fallon?”

  “Apparently, before Fallon was born, Rhiannon told Lana that the bairn would rise above all others. She didn’t say how. If she had said it about Gillian, everyone would have said it came true years ago because she is the tallest lass in the clan.”

  Fingal chuckled. “I see what ye mean.”

  “Some say Rhiannon was simply predicting Fallon’s great beauty. But Lana has always believed it meant something else.”

  “Gillian told me that she had pushed Duncan for a betrothal to Niall.”

  “Aye, exactly. Sometimes I think predictions such as these compel people to make them true. If Duncan had done that, Fallon would be Lady MacIan, but not because of any inherent greatness in her. It would have been simply because her mother pushed for an advantageous marriage.”

  “Do ye think Lana would harm Gillian just to see a prophecy realized?”

  “I hope not. I just thought ye should know. Superstition is sometimes hard to battle.”

  “Aye. Thank ye, Eadoin. Like ye, I hope Lana does not intend to harm Gillian but it helps to understand what her motive might be if she does. I will consider all of this. At any rate, the attempts on our lives have failed so far but I can’t rely on luck to keep us safe. Until I can figure out who is behind this, I want her guarded at all times. If she is not with me, or barred in our chamber, I want either ye, Quinn, or Diarmad seeing to her safety.”