“Thank God,” Deirdre whispered when she saw Moirra soaked with sweat. “The fever breaks.”
Thomas was standing in the doorway to his chamber and as always, his face bore his all-too-familiar scowl. “Good,” he said. “Put her in the barn so I can have me bloody bed back.”
If he wasn’t Deirdre’s auldest brother she might hate him more than she did. As she dipped a cloth into the basin, she glanced up at Thomas. “I’d ask if ye have a heart but I already ken the answer.”
Thomas was not phased in the least by her insult. “I want me bed back.”
“Ye’ll get it back when Moirra is better,” she told him as she wiped Moirra’s brow.
“And when will that be?”
Deirdre hadn’t slept for more than a few hours at a time in days, had rarely left Moirra’s side; therefore, her patience was as thin as a spider web. “Me thinks ye need to visit the brothel in Glenkirby, fer yer behavin’ like a bastard right now.” If anyone on God’s earth needed a woman, ’twas her brother, Thomas. However, Deirdre couldn’t think of anyone strong enough to put up with him, anyone kind enough to bring back the sweet boy he had once been, and no one she disliked enough to put the task to. ’Twas a conundrum.
“I want me bed back,” he repeated, a little harsher than before.
Deirdre was glad that Moirra was sleeping so that she wouldn’t be subjected to Thomas’ cold heart. She continued to wash Moirra’s face and hands, pretending she hadn’t heard her brother.
“Take her back to her own home,” he said.
Deirdre rolled her eyes and shook her head in disgust. “What home would that be, Thomas? The one that was practically destroyed by fire?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I didna start the fire,” he said. “And she be no’ me responsibility, remember?”
Exasperated, Moirra glared at him. “’Tis a good thing our mum did no’ live to see the man ye’ve become. ’Twould have broken her heart to see ye so cold and heartless.”
“Ye can thank Moirra Dundotter fer that,” Thomas spat out. “She destroyed me when she refused to marry me.”
Deirdre had reached the end of her patience. Shooting to her feet, she tossed the cloth into the basin and stomped toward her brother. “Moirra did no’ do that to ye, our father did! Now get out of here before I take a sgian dubh to ye!” With that, she pushed him out of the room, slammed the door shut and barred it.
“There be some comfort in knowin’ he has no’ changed whilst I was ill,” Moirra whispered in a scratchy voice.
Deirdre felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. Quickly, she went to sit beside Moirra and placed the back of her hand on her forehead. “I think yer fever has finally broken,” she said, hoping to avoid the topic of Thomas altogether.
Moirra closed her eyes and nodded slightly. “I never meant to hurt Thomas.”
Deirdre’s heart tightened in her chest. “Moirra, ye need no’ worry it. ’Twasn’t ye that turned Thomas into the angry wretch that he has become. He did that all by himself.” She picked up the wet cloth, wrung it out, and went back to cleaning Moirra’s face and hands. “Now we’ll no’ speak of it again. I need ye to rest now.”
Moirra nodded as she took in a deep steadying breath. “I do feel verra tired, Deirdre.”
“Ye’ve been through much these past days, Moirra,” she said as she patted Moirra’s hand.
Another steadying breath before Moirra said, “I lost me babe.”
* * *
When she woke, Moirra realized almost immediately that something terrible had happened. Her belly felt quite empty and cold. ’Twas eerily similar to how her stomach felt after giving birth to each of her daughters, but this time, there was no joy to be found, no babe to love. Deirdre’s silence was answer enough.
A tremendous ache wrapped around her heart. Any attempt to stop tears was pointless. They streamed down her cheeks without restraint. An overwhelming sense of guilt blended with the heartache and turned her silent tears into sobs. “’Tis all me fault,” she choked out.
Deirdre wrapped her hands around Moirra’s. “Nay! Do no’ be thinkin’ that. The fault lies with Almer Wilgart and no one else.”
Moirra disagreed but was too overwrought with tears to express herself. Had she never agreed to handfast with Delmar Wilgart, none of this would be happening. She was the one who brought the man into her life and the lives of her daughters. She was the one who was so stubborn and too determined to keep her farm that she could not see beyond that one singular goal. Nay, the fault lay at her feet and hers alone.
Deirdre did her best to make Moirra see the truth of the matter. “Moirra, ’twas Almer’s own black heart that did this. Had he no’ been so filled with hatred toward ye, then ye’d never been accused of killin’ Delmar and ye’d never have been locked in the gaol. Please, do no’ blame yerself fer this.”
Aye, if, if, if … Moirra wondered silently how different her life would be now had she never lost her first husband to begin with. But then she might not have Orabilis had Kenneth lived. And she would never have met Alysander.
Alysander.
Where was he? Mayhap he had already learned of her failure and could not bear to be near her. Mayhap he was too disappointed in her.
“Where be Alysander?” she finally managed to ask.
An odd expression passed over Deirdre’s face, one that added to Moirra’s worry. “Somethin’ has happened to him,” Moirra said as she fought to sit up.
“Alysander be well,” Deirdre said as she tried to gently coax Moirra to rest. “Do no’ worry over it, Moirra.”
Do no’ worry over it? Moirra’s heart sank to her belly. Instinct told her that something was wrong, very wrong.
“Where is he?”
Deirdre took a deep breath before answering. “Before I tell ye, I need yer promise no’ to get upset.”
That wasn’t very likely.
“Moirra, he confessed to killin’ Delmar and now he be in the gaol,” Deirdre spoke so rapidly that Moirra had to ask her to repeat herself.
“Nay!” Moirra exclaimed. “Why? How? I do no’ understand.”
“Wheesht, now, Moirra,” Deirdre told her. “He will be well. William has gone to Stirling with Finnis Malcolm’s men, to speak with Robert II. I do no’ ken any more than that. William should be back within a week, Moirra. We believe that because Alysander is cousin to King David that he will be set free.”
Of all the idiotic things that Alysander could have done …
“Why would he do such a thing as to confess? He was no’ even here when Delmar was killed,” she said, sounding much confused.
A warm smile spread across Deirdre’s face. “Because he loves ye, ye silly woman! He could no’ stand the thought of ye bein’ in that gaol one moment longer.”
Alysander loved her enough that he was willing to hang for something he did not do. He loved her enough to take her place in the gaol. Just because he was cousin to King David did not mean a thing at the moment. David was being held prisoner by the English. How could he possibly help from his current position?
The tears returned in full force. Not only had she lost their babe, she now might lose the only man she had ever truly loved.
Sixteen
It took William, Bruce and Alec six days to reach Stirling. They arrived after dawn, travel worn, covered from head to toe in mud, muck and road grime. William fully expected them to be mistaken for miscreants and turned away the moment they arrived at the gates of Stirling Castle, hence his complete surprise when they were waved inside.
Young men came to retrieve their horses, bowing more at Bruce and Alec he supposed, than him. Up the large stone steps and inside the castle, Bruce led them to a room where they were able to wash most of the road grime away and dust off their clothes and boots. They didn’t dally, neither did they waste time in frivolous conversation, mostly because William was terrified into a state of mutism. Never in his life did he ever think he would be on such a very important mission,
let alone seek an audience with the Guardian of Scotland, Robert II. He nearly shook with a blend of nervous anticipation and fear.
Apparently neither Bruce nor Alec suffered from the same affliction. They bounded down the hallways of Stirling as if they were Robert’s own sons. Men bowed and women offered curtsies as they wound their way through narrow corridors into wider ones, up staircases and through doorways. By the time they reached their destination — and the only way William had known they had arrived was their sudden halt just inside a large, well-appointed room — William was out of breath and completely lost. He doubted he’d ever be able to find his way out again without a guide.
“Give me Finnis’ message,” Bruce said with his hand held out.
Reluctantly, William removed the scroll from the inside of his tunic and handed it to Bruce.
“Stay here,” Bruce told him. A moment later he and Alec left him standing in stunned and anxious silence. They disappeared behind a large wooden door. William was too afraid to move.
Exhausted, he could very well have fallen asleep standing upright, but his nerves would not allow for such a luxury. Time slowed to such a slow crawl as he waited, that he wasn’t sure if it hadn’t stopped altogether.
Some time passed, and William knew ’twasn’t his imagination that made him think so. He had no idea what was taking place, if anything at all, behind that large wooded door. The only sound he could make out was the pounding of his own heart beating uneasily against his chest. With no fire in the hearth the room was cold and seemed to grow colder with each passing moment. He imagined he could very well turn into a human icicle before anyone remembered he was here.
Just when he was convinced he had in fact been forgotten, the door opened and Alec stepped through. “Come with me,” he said as he held the door open.
William swallowed hard and willed his feet to move. Moments later, he was standing just inside the grandest room he had ever seen.
Heavy, meticulously crafted rugs lined the floor, tapestries hung on the walls. Tall, wide windows lined one wall and in front of that was an enormous, intricately carved wooden table and behind it, an even more intricately carved chair. Ornate sconces that held candles were mounted on either side of the large hearth that took up another wall. Padded chairs and tables of varying sizes were placed about the room.
The room was large and quite grand, fit for either King or Guardian of Scotland. At the moment, Robert II was the latter. And he was standing in front of the tall bank of windows, looking out at the yard below.
* * *
Robert II was nothing at all as William had imagined. Though he was an imposing figure, William supposed it had to do more with who the man was rather than his build.
Slender, with a hawkish nose and brown hair, what struck William most was how the man carried himself, standing tall and regal. One wouldn’t know that he had the fate of Scotland resting on his shoulders let alone the lives of countless men, women, and children.
William stepped forward but kept what he believed was a safe and appropriate distance. He gave Robert a bow, righted himself and waited.
“How fares Finnis Malcolm?” Robert asked after giving William a quick glance up and down.
Robert’s voice was deep and not at all what William expected. “He fairs well, me laird,” William answered, hoping no one noticed the slight crack in his voice.
“And how fairs David’s cousin, Alysander McCullum? Is he well?”
William couldn’t hide his surprise. Until this very moment, he had thought Alysander’s claim of being related to the king was at best, an exaggeration. “Not well, me laird,” William said after regaining his senses.
“Explain,” Robert said as he clasped his hands behind his back.
William thought it an odd question considering why they were here. “He be in a gaol, in Glenkirby, me laird,” William replied with the belief that no further explanation was needed. He was quite wrong.
“I ken verra well that he is in a gaol in Glenkirby. I want to ken how he fares.”
William cleared his throat before going into what he hoped was enough detail to make Robert’s scowl disappear. “Well, he misses his wife somethin’ fierce, ye ken—”
“So ’tis true then. He has married?”
“Aye, me laird, he has. A fine woman she be. I’ve known her me whole life and ne’er a finer woman ye’ll find, save fer me own wife, ye ken.”
Robert’s scowl was replaced with a warm smile, but he remained quiet and listened intently to William’s description. “Moirra Dundotter she be,” he said as he offered up his own smile. “She be a good woman, me laird, and I ken without a doubt that she did no’ kill Delmar Wilgart.”
Robert quirked a curious brow and asked, “How can ye be so certain?”
William was firm in his answer. “Ye’d have to ken Moirra Dundotter.”
Robert cast a furtive glance at Bruce before speaking again. “I be told the sheriff believes she killed this Delmar Wilgart person fer his bag of coin.”
William scoffed at that notion. “Moirra has more wealth than Delmar Wilgart ever thought to possess. She did no’ need his money. What she needed was his strong back in helpin’ her with her farm.”
Robert gave that idea a measure of thought. “So ye say she would no’ have killed him fer his coin?”
William let out a frustrated breath. “I be sayin’ she’d no’ kill a man fer any reason, me laird.”
“No’ even to protect herself from harm?”
“Would no’ yer own wife or daughters?” He hadn’t meant for his answer to sound insolent or disrespectful and hoped Robert did not take it that way.
“I be also told that there be a good deal of corruption amongst the sheriff and his men. Be this true?” Robert asked, ignoring William’s question.
“Aye, there be much corruption,” William answered. “Almer Wilgart and his men make the merchants pay fer their protection against thieves and the like, but a lot of good it does them. The merchants pay fer protection but Almer pays thieves to steal from them. He keeps what he wants; then sends his men off to Edinburgh or Aberdeen to sell the rest.”
Robert looked to Bruce and Alec for confirmation. Alec nodded in affirmation whilst Bruce said, “I believe he speaks the truth.”
Robert began to pace back and forth in front of those lavishly adorned windows. William waited as patiently as he could whilst Robert was lost in thought. After some time, Robert turned his attention back to William.
“Why did Alysander confess to killin’ this Delmar Wilgart?” he asked.
William let out a long, heavy breath before answering. “Do I have permission to speak candidly, me laird?”
“Aye, ye do.”
William cleared his throat and chose his words as carefully as he could under the circumstances. “I believe he be tetched.
* * *
A long moment passed before Robert, Bruce and Alec broke out into fits of boisterous laughter. William felt much relieved to know he hadn’t insulted anyone.
“Aye,” Robert said as he struggled to regain his composure. “Alysander McCullum be tetched, of that, there be no doubt.”
It took a few moments, but the laughter finally subsided. “William, tell me yer opinion on the matter of Alysander McCullum’s confession,” Robert said.
In William’s mind, ’twas a simple explanation. “Alysander confessed to get his wife out of the gaol. She be carryin’ his child, ye see—”
Robert cut him off in mid-sentence. “Alysander McCullum is goin’ to be a father?” He was clearly surprised at that information.
“Aye,” William answered. “But when I left, she was verra ill, thanks to Almer and that filthy hovel he calls his gaol. Me sister Deirdre was tendin’ to Moirra when I left.”
Anger flickered in Robert’s eyes, albeit briefly. “I do no’ ken Alysander as well as I do Finnis Malcolm.” He crossed the small space and retrieved Finnis’ parchment from the top of his desk. “Apparently, Finnis
agrees with yer assessment of the situation.” He tapped the parchment against one hand a few times before speaking again. “I will need time to think on this. Ye’ll have me decision shortly.”
With that, Bruce escorted William out of the room and back into the small chamber. There was nothing left for him to do at this moment other than to pray.
Seventeen
Thankfully, William was not forced to wait long. Within a few short hours, he had Robert’s answer, as well as three rolled parchments containing the guardian’s decision on the matter of Alysander and Moirra McCullum. Before the day was out, William, Bruce and Alec had fresh horses, packs full of food, and much lighter hearts as they headed out of Stirling to return to Glenkirby.
William could only pray that they reached the village before Almer’s patience wore thin and he hanged Alysander and Moirra out of spite.
* * *
It took two days longer to get home than it did to get to Stirling. Torrential rains impeded any good progress they might have been able to make. The longer they were delayed the more ill-tempered William became. ’Twas beyond frustrating to know that a man’s life rested in the palm of your hands, or in this case, within the writing on a parchment tucked inside his tunic and you might be delayed in helping to save his life all because of rain.
’Twas relentless.
’Twas downright maddening.
One of the paths that ran through a glen had been washed away, forcing them to slog through mud up to the horses’ knees. And the rain continued to fall, the skies remained dark and sullen. But still, they trudged on, determined to make it to Glenkirby before Almer Wilgart did something that could not be undone.
Eighteen
It had been nearly a year since Connor McCullum had seen his brother, Alysander.
When Alysander had left, right after their brother Hugh died, Connor was certain he’d never see Alysander again. Hugh had been killed in a drunken brawl and Alysander might as well have been declared dead as well as far as their father was concerned. It pained Connor then, to think that he had lost two brothers that fateful day. It pained him just as much to learn that Alysander was in a gaol in Glenkirby, set to be hanged for murder.
Moirra's Heart Series: The Complete Collection ( Moirra's Heart Series: The Complete Collection (The Moirra's Heart Series Book 3)) Page 19