Highland Devil (Murray Family #22)(35)

"Do ye think Robert would kill them? What would it gain him?"

"Nary a thing, but I wouldnae be surprised if he plans to kill young  Murdoch. Soon after his da goes, too, so he can toss them into the same  hole. He was always jealous of the boy because his da kept him close.  Mon still had all his wits about him and kenned Robert would harm the  child."

"Hilda!" snapped Manus. "Dinnae forget he will be your laird!"

"Nay mine," Hilda muttered as she watched Manus put Mora in a cell and slowly lock the door.

"Are your new friends coming for ye, lass?" Manus asked.

"Nay, but I wouldnae tell ye if they were just so ye could prepare all the men to kill them."

"Ye would let our men die?"

She looked around the cell she was in, then said, "Aye, but I will say  this, my friends would try to talk to someone, try to sort it all out  and keep blood from being spilt. From what I just saw of my uncle, he  willnae care. And, if ye two are right, and he clings to all the lies  his son has told just to save face and some long-held false hopes he  wants fulfilled, he is near as mad as his foul son." Out of the corner  of her eye she saw Hilda nod.

Manus marched off shaking his head, but Hilda looked at her. "Who are your friends, lass?"

"The Murrays on either side of ye and the Camerons."

"Oh, my. A handsome lot of friends ye have found. My spit boy is the nephew of the laird's cook," said Hilda.

"Oh, that's nice." Mora wondered what that had to do with anything.

"It could be, lass, it could be a verra nice thing indeed. I will be down in a few moments with a meal for ye."

Mora sat on the narrow, hard bed and sighed. It had seemed like a good  idea. Come and talk to her uncle, a man she could recall as being nice,  funny at times, and welcoming. She suspected it was that memory that had  pushed her to come as her uncle was no longer any of those things. She  did not think it was all caused by the illness, either. Her uncle had  had things go very wrong in his life and had been abed long enough to  brood on them.

Why would he think her mother was a liar? Her mother never lied. And  what did he mean by calling her mother a ruined woman? Mora clenched her  fists and fought the urge to get up and stomp out her fury. He seemed  to think matters had been ruined between him and his brother yet, if  that was so, why did her mother take all of them to visit him?

She ran her hand over the stone wall behind her, discovered it was  surprisingly dry, and leaned back against it. It was not an easy thing  to do since it had been an ugly confrontation, but she carefully thought  over what her uncle had said. The third time she did so, she abruptly  sat up, seeing what was firmly stuck in his memory and tormenting him.  It was not that her mother had been ruined but that his brother had  married her anyway. It all had little to do with her mother. It had to  do with his father, with the brothers' bond breaking until they were  little more than coldly polite strangers.

Her uncle had been the man who had ruined her mother. David was the one  who had married her, giving her back the honor his own brother had  stolen from her. Mora suspected it had been a rape, harsh and ugly.  There was the unworthy man her mother had referred to when she had given  Mora the talk about women and men. Mora had to wonder how hard it must  have been for her mother to see Tomas, even if the visits had been rare.  Then she had an alarming thought. Had her mother been left with child?  Was one of her brothers actually her cousin?

"Idiot," she muttered, and shook her head, trying to push away such  thoughts. One thing she was sure of concerning her mother and father was  that they had loved each other, had loved all their children. It might  have been started by something ugly, but it had become beautiful and  stayed that way until the day Robert had killed them.

Her poor father, she thought, and closed her eyes to push back the  tears. How had such a sweet, gentle man come from such a family? A man  who could carve such beauty into a piece of wood most would have just  used for kindling should have had a better lot. She thought of him  showing a fascinated Andrew about carving and then smiled. His second  family had given him a better life.         

     



 

Robert had stolen it, ended it before its time. For that alone Robert  had to pay. Even if she could not escape the trap she had walked into,  she would do her best to make sure Robert paid dearly for the innocent  blood on his hands.

"Here ye go, lass," said Hilda, holding a large tray while her husband  unlocked the door. "A nice full meal and dinnae try to say ye are nay  hungry. Nay matter what is happening one should always remember it could  change."

"Things could get better?" asked Mora in a disbelieving tone as she  looked over what was on the tray Hilda set down on the bed beside her.

"Ye can ne'er ken and ye willnae want to be swooning with hunger just when ye should run."

"Och, nay, that would be bad."

"Hilda, what are ye babbling about?" asked Manus.

"Nary a thing, love. Someone will be by in a while to take away the empty tray."

Puzzled by the woman, Mora shrugged as the door was locked again and the  couple walked away. She tasted the chicken and found it very palatable.  Then the sound of a disturbance echoed down the stairs.

She watched as Hilda came running down the stairs, then thrust her hand  through the bars. Mora frowned at what the woman was holding out to her.  What game was the woman playing?

"Take it," hissed Hilda, and Mora took what revealed itself to be a  piece of parchment, a pen, and a tiny bottle of ink. "Write out what has  happened to ye and hide it in the napkin. Ye have about an hour at best  before some lad is sent to collect the tray." Hilda then dashed back  off up the stairs.

Mora set it aside, tucking it just under the very thin blanket on the  bed, and ate her meal as she thought on what to write. When she finished  the afters of stewed apples, she turned her full attention to writing a  letter. She had no idea what Hilda planned to do with it, but the woman  was acting very secretive, so she would just do as she was told and see  what happened. Carefully folding the letter into the napkin, she prayed  it would not smudge badly.

A young boy, perhaps just entering his teens, came to take the tray. She  wondered if she should feel insulted that they believed she was not  worth a bigger, well-armed guard. It would not be too hard for her to  trick or overpower the thin lad but she did not. It would humiliate him  and she could not do that. She simply hoped she would not deeply regret  that restraint later.

Lying down and wishing she was bold enough and felt safe enough to strip  for bed, she stared up at the ceiling, studying the shadows cast by the  torches. She was not sure what her uncle had planned for her but  suspected it would not be good. The anger and mean spirit in the man  appeared to have been strengthened or freed by the poisoning. Yawning,  she closed her eyes and forced herself to stop thinking so hard. What  was happening made no sense, so she needed to cease trying to sort it  out or understand it.

Instead, she thought of Gybbon. He was going to be so angry about this.  And, if her uncle and cousin physically harmed her, she could be certain  they would pay very dearly. Slowly, feeling oddly reassured by that,  she fell asleep.



A loud clattering startled Mora awake. She sat up and stared at the  bars. A sneering Robert stood there with a stick, running it along the  bars. Behind him stood his three brothers. He obviously kept them on a  very tight tether, she thought. None of them looked happy. She did not  think she had ever seen such a sullen, miserable lot.

"Ah, Cousin, weel met. Ye decided it was time for ye to torment the prisoner?"

"I thought we could have a wee talk before ye are hanged."

"I cannae think of anything ye could discuss that I would be interested  in. But, hanged? Ye dinnae believe I will win at the trial?"

"Trial? What trial? Why should time and effort be wasted on such a trial?"

"The law?"

"Did ye forget? My father is the law here. He was declared so years ago. He is also the laird and rules this land."

She studied him for a moment. "'Tis a shame that I willnae be around on  that day when he discovers all your lies. Just how many people do ye  consider an obstacle or an enemy and have ye managed to get the mon to  kill them all for you?" There was a flash of shock on all three of his  brothers' faces, and she felt sad, for it was confirmation that he had  done just that.

"What does that matter? And, the mon is dying."

"He didnae look like it when I saw him and he spouted all your lies at  me." Robert looked so proud of that she was tempted to spit on him.

"Enough talk."

"Oh, dear, and it was all so riveting," she murmured, and while his brothers quickly grinned, Robert glared at her.

"I will be standing right up in the front of the crowd when ye hang."