The Seduction of Laird Sinclair

by Kara Griffin

“She’s a maddened crone.” Hawisa laughed snidely. “The woman speaks of nonsense and tells tales of the land and sky calling her. If that’s not madness, I don’t know what is.”

  “Surely that’s an unkind thing to say, especially of an elder woman, your own grandmother.” Violet tried not to let her affront show, but she had always respected elders, regardless of their state of mind.

  Hawisa patted her mouth with a small cloth and set it beside her bowl. “I mean not to be unkind, but I speak the truth. Be cautious around her, for some say she’s a witch who would easily hex them if she has a mind.”

  “I have no knowledge of that or believe she’d do such a thing.” Violet finished the stew and picked up a piece of bread. “I thought you and Callum’s wife might be friendly. Were you? The way you spoke of her the other night… What can you tell me about her?”

  Hawisa rose. “There’s nothing much to tell. If you wish to attract Callum, it will do you no good. If his wife couldn’t win his affection, I doubt any woman could.”

  “You must be mistaken and you’re being unkind to her memory, and to Callum. Why would you say such a ghastly thing?”

  “Lydia was beautiful with light-reddish hair and the bonniest blue eyes. All men wanted her. Callum only has a mind to train the soldiers and be the laird. It’s all he’s ever wanted and boasted about since he was a lad. I suppose that’s why he ousted Gavin, his own brother. He probably did his brother in to gain the lairdship.”

  She leaned her head to the side and considered her words. Was she saying Callum had a hand in his brother’s death? From what she knew of Callum, he wouldn’t do anything so brutal. “I didn’t get that feeling about Callum.”

  Hawisa set her hands on the table and smiled. “Nay? It’s the truth. Callum detested his brother and for good reason. Gavin was the laird and he was not. Would you care for a cup of wine? It’s not too sweetened.”

  Violet nodded, and Hawisa set off to the buttery.

  She stood with her back to her. “Lydia and I were close, as close as sisters. I miss her terribly. The day she died was most disheartening. She had trouble birthing the bairn and succumbed to a fever. The poor midwife never made it to the birthing bed. I shall always keep Lydia in my heart. Dela needed me and I’ve tried to do my best by her, but she’s a difficult, disobedient lass.” Hawisa returned and set a cup before her.

  Violet got the sense the woman spoke falsely. Hadn’t she shown animosity toward Lydia? And now she talked of a friendship? She frowned at why Hawisa would mislead her about her relationship with Lydia.

  She continued, “But I suppose I’m not needed any longer. Callum told me he no longer wants me to care for her. How am I to keep my deathbed promise to Lydia and look after her daughter?”

  “Callum told you not to care for Dela?” Violet realized he must’ve confronted Hawisa about what she’d told him. She felt badly for Hawisa now, but she wouldn’t interfere. She took a sip of the wine and it tasted so good, she took a few more.

  “You must speak to him. Dela needs me. Say you will? He might allow me to continue my promise if you…”

  Dizziness came over her. Her hand trembled and a strange sensation washed over her. Violet shuddered and shook her head to abate it. Hawisa blurred before her eyes.

  “Say you will help me. Only you can sway Callum in this matter.”

  She wanted to say no, but she couldn’t form the word. “Yes.”

  “And you shall promise to speak only kindly of me to Callum.”

  Violet closed her eyes. She shook her head, took a deep breath, and rubbed her eyes when Hawisa distorted before her.

  “Say it, that you’ll speak kindly of me. You must agree.”

  Hawisa waved before her eyes and she nodded.

  “You must speak your promise.”

  Violet opened her mouth but tried not to say the words. They sprang forth against her will. “I will speak kindly of you to Callum and persuade him to let you see to Dela.”

  “There’s a good lass. We shall be as good friends as Lydia and I were.” Hawisa patted her cheek and rose. “I must go before Callum returns.”

  Violet tried to shake the weird sense away. What had Hawisa done to her? It was as if she had no control over her words. The dizziness increased and she tried to hold on to the table but fell from the bench. The ceiling waved above her, like the turbulent seas when a storm battered the land.

  Hawisa’s mocking laughter retreated as she left. Violet groaned and tried to make it to her knees, but instead, she closed her eyes and gave over to the malady.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Sutherland sentry relayed the message that Keith returned from Edinburgh. Keith asked to meet him at Jumpin’ Joe’s Tavern, their usual meeting place. Callum took it as a sign that his friend and ally would accept his apology for what happened at the Imbolc festival. He wouldn’t grovel, but he’d make it know that he hadn’t intended their fracas be so heated. Keith would understand, at least that was his hope.

  Callum rode next to Clive, who insisted he go along. He wanted to go alone, but his cousin’s concern won him over. Clive didn’t trust he’d do what needed to be done, but he also protected his back on the journey. The travel to the village of Wick took a few hours, along the barren stretch of land between his holding and toward the east.

  During the ride, Callum considered the developments of the day before. He hadn’t divulged his conversation with Clive or Hawisa to Violet. He probably should have told her to be wary of his cousin. Hawisa’s neglect of his daughter disheartened him, especially because she pretended compassion. He was grateful Violet told him of his cousin’s acts because his sweet lass was too young to realize the wrongdoing of his cousin.

  “Why are you so quiet?” Clive sidled next to him and trudged along.

  “I was thinking about yesterday.”

  “What, about our discussion of Hammond? Did you ask Hawisa or Elias where he is?”

  “I didn’t find our uncle. Elias is likely avoiding me presently and I haven’t seen him. But I ran into Hawisa last eve and I asked her about Hammond. She said she hasn’t seen him in months and that he disappeared before Gavin was slain.”

  Clive scoffed. “She lies. I recall seeing Gavin and Hammond only the night before your brother’s murder. Hammond is probably off getting sotted. It’s all he’s done since he turned the age when a lad likes the brew more than his chores.”

  “She sounded rather sure of it. But why would Elias say I should call him to our meeting if he wasn’t on Sinclair land?”

  “It confounds me. Yet who says he’s not? As to his father, all claim they had disagreements and rowed often. Elias always wanted his son to take an interest in clan matters, but he was more a lackey to Gavin than to his father. Hammond never answered to Hawisa, so he probably shuns her. Wouldn’t you?”

  “I suppose. There’s something odd about his disappearance though.”

  “Mayhap, but we cannot be concerned about Hammond now. You need to mend this rift with Sutherland.”

  “I will, worry not.” Callum retreated to his thoughts and Violet’s nonintrusive acceptance the night before which mollified him. She didn’t ask questions or make demands on him. If she had, he had no notion of what he’d say. He only divulged that he had family discord. Throughout his life, he’d always kept his view to himself and hadn’t shared the troublesome matters with many.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Violet, but he didn’t want to speak of the unpleasant family matters. They’d spent the night in each other’s arms, and he was content to listen to the silence and ruminate over his problems. He hadn’t ever felt as soothed by anyone, and Violet’s nature brought him a sense of comfort he’d always hoped for in his woman. That she took the time to remedy his aches with the heated cloths, did more than ease his discomfort. Her care affected his heart.

  The village of Wick came into view, and Callum peered ahead. Hemmed in on both sides by steep earthen banks, there situated a row of grayed thatc
hed cottages which extended along the lone lane. The town boasted no beauty with its barren lanes, grim cottages, the dark sea, and there were no green trees or grasses to give it appeal. It was too stark for his liking, but he didn’t live there, and he was glad his land was more to behold. Being near the sea gave him a sense of comfort.

  He and Clive rode along the lane, and not one of the villagers greeted them. Most of the men of Wick spent their time either in the church or in the tavern. The owners of both establishments were the brothers Dunn, Joe and John. His comrade Joe had trained in weaponry with him when he’d been a lad. His tavern was so named Jumpin’ Joe’s because he’d earned the nickname when he, Keith, and Grady, wagered that he wouldn’t walk through their campfire. Joe took their wager, but he jumped through the fire and earned his moniker. John Dunn, his brother, was the local clergyman, and a more solemn man never existed. He constantly preached about debaucheries, and that all should beg for God’s penance. The Dunn brothers were known as the Saint and Sinner of Wick.

  The tavern and inn stood two stories high with a white-washed exterior. Joe had fixed up the building and grounds, and it appeared to be recently added to. There were rooms to let above and behind the inn. Callum tethered his horse to the pole outside and ambled forward. Clive followed him inside, and they stood and searched for Keith. Joe raised his hand in greeting, but he continued with his chore and refilled the ale jugs.

  Chester Mackay, Grady’s uncle, sat at a table and waved them forward. Callum liked Chester. He was well-received by all the clans in the northern region, as well as those below the Highlands. Chester poured them a drink and bade them to join him with a wave of his hand.

  “I haven’t seen you two in a good time. How is Mor?”

  Callum took the cup he offered. “My gran is well. I’ll tell her you asked after her.”

  “Do, and tell her I plan to visit her soon. I haven’t been to Sinclair land since your da passed. All is well with the Sinclairs?” Chester always presented a well-groomed bearing for his age, and his garments were tidy and expensive. He wore tunics made of the finest fabrics, and his tartan was always worn without a wrinkle in place. His grey-black hair was cut short but combed back and his beard neatly trimmed. He had light eyes that shone with his smile. Everyone revered the man, and most sought his guidance, and enjoyed his company. Chester was privy to many family secrets in the Highlands, and he rarely spoke of the goings-on. He was easy to confide in.

  Callum nodded, but wouldn’t speak of the terrible happenings at his home since he’d gone to fight with James Douglas. Although Chester would keep his confidence, he didn’t want anyone to know what difficulties they’d had of late. Chester often gave the news to the clans he visited. If word reached their enemy, the Mackenzies, it could put them in a perilous situation.

  Until Callum settled the matters at home, it was best he kept quiet. “Aye, we cannot make a complaint. Have you seen Keith? He asked me to meet him here.”

  Chester bellowed. “The lads told me he was here, but I haven’t seen him. He’s probably in one of the vacant rooms with a lass. You know how Keith is. If he’s not in his cup, he’s loving some winsome lass. Grady is here too, and I saw him briefly. Let me get a lad to fetch Keith for you.” He signaled to a lad and pulled him aside. His conversation was spoken low, and Callum couldn’t hear what he’d told him.

  As he waited for Keith, he finished his drink. Clive remained silent and surveyed the patrons in the tavern. Chester made his rounds around the room, and his laughter resonated from across the way. Callum didn’t like that there were more Sutherlands in the tavern than that of his clan or even Grady’s.

  Keith strolled into the tavern from the back entrance. He approached and took the bench across from him. His expression held no hint of his mood. “I got your message. What do you want? When I last saw you, you declared yourself my enemy. Have you changed your mind?”

  His harsh words tensed Callum’s shoulders. “That’s what I came to discuss.”

  “Aye? I’d like to hear what you have to say, but we shall do so in private.” He tilted his head to Clive, in a signal that he wanted him to leave.

  Callum got his message. “Clive, give us privacy.”

  His cousin grunted, but he left the table and meandered near Chester Mackay who boisterously told a tale he was famous for. Several men gathered at his table.

  “Be quick with your speech. My da has called me home. I should’ve left earlier, but I got distracted.” Keith’s blue eyes scrunched, and he flipped his long locks over his shoulder.

  Callum laughed. “Chester told me what distracted you. So your da finally bids you to come home? He’s not ailing is he?” He hoped Keith’s father wasn’t ill. He was a respected laird who often gave him good advice.

  None knew of the times when he visited Keith when they were younger after his father had died. Callum had, in the late of night, asked Laird Sutherland how to handle Gavin, Lydia, and his family woes. Hendrie commiserated with him and had more family dysfunction than most.

  Keith shrugged his shoulders. “Damned if I know, but my clansmen say he’s well. I’ll go and see what he wants, eventually. He probably wants to hound me again about taking a wife. He claims to want grandchildren. I suppose I owe it to him, and I’ve reached an age when I should consider it. But if he deems to pick her, he’s mistaken. I’ll bloody well pick my own wife.”

  Callum laughed and poured himself more ale. “This is the first you’ve ever spoken of this. Maybe it’s time you married. Aye, you are long in the tooth, Keith.”

  Keith leaned across the table and shoved him. “The hell I am. I haven’t met a lass as fetching as Lady Violet though. And I promise you, I won’t marry a hateful woman like…” his words trailed off and he took a sip of his drink. “Say your peace, Callum, and get on with it.” He grabbed the jug of ale and poured himself another cup.

  “That’s why I’ve come. I want to discuss what happened that day, and Lady Violet. I didn’t mean to be harsh toward you, but you raised my ire when you threatened me with your sword.”

  Keith glared at him over the rim of his cup. “Aye? I wasn’t serious in my threat and thought you would laugh it off. I never suspected you’d react like that. Apparently, you are interested in the lady; else you wouldn’t have taken my threat to heart. You didn’t tell me about her or why she’d come. But did my ploy work?”

  Callum frowned back. “What ploy?”

  His friend chuckled. “I wanted to irk you enough to…mayhap cause your jealousy. Did it work, were you jealous?”

  “Aye, you know it did, which is why I spoke in haste to you. You will always be my ally, Keith, and I meant no offense. We’ve been through too much to ever let a woman come between us. You’re welcome to my holding and we will remain friends.”

  “You might change your mind after I tell you what I must say…” Keith trailed off and averted his gaze as the tavern grew loud with rowdy laughs and men’s voices raised in mirth. “I didn’t know Chester Mackay was here. I should tell Grady.”

  Callum glanced across the tavern at Grady’s uncle and nodded. “Chester said he saw him briefly when he got here. You’re avoiding telling me what you wanted to say. By your look, it must be grave. What is it?” He finished his drink and pushed his cup forward.

  “This has bothered me for some time… I know not how to begin.”

  A serving lass approached and set a new jug of ale on their table. Keith motioned for her to leave. He drank down a full cup of ale and set the cup on the table with a bang.

  “When you left with James for the skirmish by the border… I suspected something afoul at your holding. I needed to stay behind to find out what. That’s why I asked you to take my place.”

  “What are you talking about?” Callum’s patience wore. “You said you wanted to return home.”

  “That was my excuse.” Keith fiddled with his cup and seemed deeply troubled. He glanced away briefly, but continued, “After you left, I stayed at your
keep for a few days. There was chaos because your clansmen and women insisted Gavin come out of the keep and help them. They feared the fireball and there was disorder. Some ransacked cottages and stole goods from the stores and village shops. A riot ensued. Gavin didn’t care and stayed hidden in the castle…the coward.”

  “No one told me this on my return. I expected something like that would happen because they were fearful that night.” Callum scowled at the thought that no one mentioned the disorder. He should’ve known, and had suspected his brother wouldn’t aid the clan when they needed him the most. “I hoped he would pacify them, but feared he wouldn’t.”

  “One night, we stayed up drinking and we got befuddled. I caught the looks Gavin gave Lydia.”

  “What looks? Why would he look…at Lydia?” Remembrance of their glances came to him and Callum grimaced. He’d suspected an attraction between his wife and brother, but he denied it for so long, he almost believed he’d mistaken their gazes. “Just say it, Keith.”

  “We were drinking heavily. I asked him what was betwixt the two of them. He said he was sleeping with her, and that she shared his bed long before Dela was born, long before she wed you.”

  “Why would he say that? He lied.” Callum didn’t want to believe his brother would deceive him, yet why would Keith speak of such if it wasn’t true? If Gavin was with Lydia, why didn’t either of them speak up when his father declared their betrothal?

  “He was good and sotted and boasted how he took your betrothed to his bed. Gavin claimed he hadn’t wanted Lydia, but she was there for the taking and since you wanted her, he kept their liaison secret. He wasn’t pleased the clan wanted you to lead the soldiers either. He didn’t lie about any of it and gloated about his misdeeds.”

  “He never let on about my leading the soldiers or about his relationship with my wife. When I asked to lead the soldiers, he acted as though it hadn’t mattered to him. As to Lydia, she never said one word about her liaison.” The words clipped from his tongue with disgust, and he frowned intently as the foul taste of his accede entwined his throat and practically suffocated him.