Highland Devil Page 4

  “I cannae be sure. Mother made no secret of the connection, but I dinnae think it would have been much talked about. If they got their hands on Aunt Maggie though, they could have forced her to tell them.” Just thinking of that possibility made Mora deeply afraid for the woman.

  “They asked for Andrew and even gave me a brief description of him, so they dinnae ken where he went. Murdoch also shook his head when I looked at him, so even though I cannae be certain of what he was trying to say, I would guess part of the reason he did was to let me ken they had nay gotten any information from him.”

  “Good. He heard what I said to Andrew and could easily have led them to him and Aunt Maggie.”

  “Mayhap they have followed you.”

  “Andrew wouldnae be able to tell her how to get to Dubheidland. He kenned it was where we were going when we were packing up to leave before my cousins burst into the house, but he had no idea where that was. At least I dinnae think so. He may have overheard some of what my parents said and remembered it. Aunt Maggie might also ken, but I just cannae see her packing up my brother and leaving.”

  “She is probably worried about ye.”

  Mora sighed. “I expect so. She can be a worrier. I just hope she doesnae grieve or think she has somehow failed my mother. Andrew probably told her it was my cousins who killed our parents, and that is a concern. I cannae tell how she would react.”

  “Weel, ’tis best if ye dinnae worry on her as it did seem that your cousins dinnae ken where Andrew is so willnae be looking for the woman. I think ye have enough to worry about.”

  Mora laughed softly and rubbed her forehead. “Aye, I do. I ken Andrew is as safe as he can be, but I would prefer him to be with me.”

  “Mayhaps when we reach Dubheidland we can send someone after him.”

  “That would be nice. I am just nay sure if Aunt Maggie would let someone she didnae ken take him.”

  “Then ye give them a letter of introduction. Now it is time to leave.”

  “Ye dinnae think they will be just up the road or coming back?”

  “We willnae be traveling right on the road. I mean to keep us within the trees for as long as I can,” he said as he put out the fire and made sure it was out. “It means we will travel a wee bit slower than I like, but we willnae be in sight all the way.” He glanced at the cat, which was carefully cleaning its face and paws. “And we have a nice alarm to let us ken if someone is coming.”

  “Oh, aye. I am nay sure how she learned to do that.”

  “Could be as simple as her noticing a rider approaching and how ye reacted to it. At least she is quieter than a dog when it is trying to warn ye of something. Some are clever enough to warn with a soft growl, but others start barking and let everyone ken where ye are.” He cleaned off the plates they had used and packed them away. “We will head out soon.”

  Mora nodded and stood up. She carefully brushed off her skirts and took a few moments to tidy up her bag. Taking out the top cloth, she gave it a good shake and then spread it over the top of everything in her bag. The moment she was done, her cat leapt inside and settled down. She was surprised the man did not see this as odd as so many others did.

  Gybbon went to his horse, saddled Jester, and put the blankets on the back. Mora walked up and held out her bag. He took a few moments deciding where best to put it, then looked at her. He was not sure where she should ride.

  “Have ye done much riding?”

  “Some,” Mora replied, not really wanting to admit how little that was. “We had a few horses but I ne’er went far, just to Aunt Maggie or the village now and then.”

  “Then ye will sit in front of me.”

  “Why?”

  “Easier to grab ye if ye start to slide off,” he said, and ignored her outraged gasp as he swung her up into the saddle. “Also, ye are less visible to other riders this way.”

  The moment he mounted behind her, Mora decided it was not the best way to share a horse with him. His arms came around her to grasp the reins and she felt as if she was being embraced.

  As they started out she tried to remain stiff and straight so that she did not end up leaning against him. She reached down to open her bag a little so that Freya could look around and would be better able to hear anything coming their way. Riding through the trees was a slow way to travel, but Mora had to admit it was much prettier and cooler. When her remark about that brought only a grunt from Sir Gybbon she fought the urge to sigh loudly. He might be one of the handsomest men she had ever seen, but he was obviously just a man. There would be no idle but pleasant conversation to fill the silence and make the time pass by faster.

  Gybbon stared at her straight, slim back and almost grinned. She was trying so hard not to lean against him. That would not be a position she would be able to keep up for long. Soon her muscles would protest holding her so tensely upright.

  He glanced down at her bag and saw the strange little cat resting her head on the edge as she stared around. It was the oddest little creature, he decided. Gybbon had never disliked cats, just never had much interest in them, although several of his female relations were quite fond of them. Jester was not bothered by the animal, so there was no need to worry about it.

  Although he was more than willing to take her to Dubheidland, he was not all that certain Sigimor would or could help her. He knew his family would though, and that eased his mind save for one thing. He realized he was concerned that she might be hurt if Sigimor did not do as her mother felt sure he would. Shaking his head, he had to wonder if he was getting soft as he rapidly approached thirty years of age.

  “My mother had heard that Sigimor had married,” Mora said.

  “Aye, he has,” Gybbon replied, pleased to be pulled from his thoughts. “To an Englishwoman, a lady born and bred.”

  “He married an Englishwoman?!”

  “Aye. She was running from a mon who wished to take hold of her nephew and all the boy had inherited. He killed her brother. He had even locked up Sigimor and his men, mostly his brothers, and she set them free. She surprised him when they wed with a nice dowry and some land in Scotland, which his twin now cares for.”

  “Are they weel suited?”

  “I would ne’er have guessed that they were, but I have to say aye. She has nay problem getting openly angry with him and he actually seems to like that. He certainly tempts that anger with the things he says.”

  “My brother Niall was like that to my mother and me. Stirring the pot, my da used to say.”

  “Why didnae he come to help ye?”

  “He and my other brother, David, went off to France about three years ago. They hoped to gain some coin by joining with one of the mercenary groups there and fighting some battles for France. We havenae heard from them and all attempts to reach them have failed for almost two years now.”

  “Ah, I see. I have kenned some men who have done the same as it appears there is always someone o’er there looking for some men to fight their battles for them. I dinnae ken how ye can find out anything for certain though.”

  “Weel, my thought was that Robert discovered where they were going and then paid some of those men to deal with it. I suspect it wouldnae have been difficult to do. Nay sure my brothers would have been able to sense the treachery. I doubt they would even have been expecting any.”

  “That too can be looked into. There are enough of our kin, mine and Sigimor’s, who have been o’er there and ken people o’er there to hunt for some sign of them.”

  “I both dread the news and desperately want to ken the truth.”

  “That is how it is all too often, lass.”

  Mora just sighed and gazed up at the leafy trees as they rode. She had to wonder if she would ever learn the truth about her brothers’ fate. It was easier, although sad, to just assume they were dead, especially since the chances of that were great, even without the aid of her cousins.

  She blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. Now was not the time for a good cry. Later, wh
en she found a chance to be alone, she would grieve for them. It would be a lot longer before she ceased to miss them.

  Then Freya drew her attention. The cat was sitting up straight and staring back at the road. Then she hissed and ducked down into the bag. Before she could say a word, Gybbon rode deeper into the trees and draped one of the blankets over Jester’s bright white tail. Mora leaned forward, tugged up the horse’s mane and lay down, covering as much as she could with her cloak-shrouded body.

  Gybbon was impressed. She had covered the other part of his horse that would have been easily seen even through the thick trees and done so without thought or direction. He had to admit she had learned the art of hiding very well. Then he heard the sound of horses approaching and idly wondered what his family would think if they knew he was accepting a cat’s warning and acting on it. The laughter would probably deafen him.

  He watched as her cousins rode by. They were not riding hard and fast nor looking around much. Gybbon wondered about their lack of urgency. He decided the men rode as if they knew exactly where they needed to go to find what they were looking for. Glancing at Mora, the look on her face made him think she already suspected that and could only wonder just how they had found out.

  When the men halted just before they rode out of sight, Gybbon watched them closely. They were arguing about something and pointing in the direction he planned on traveling along in a short while. Cautiously, he nudged his horse along until he was close enough to hear the men, signaling to Mora to stay as she was and remain silent.

  “Ye seem adamant that we dinnae travel to Dubheidland, Murdoch,” Robert said as he looked at his brother. “I have to wonder why.”

  “I dinnae see anyone trying to go there, into a world of strangers, when they could travel straight on to a large town and disappear into a crowd.”

  “That would make a better place to hide,” said the one who had given him the warning head shakes the last time Gybbon had spoken to them.

  Despite how the scratches hid Robert’s expression well, Gybbon was certain the man no longer trusted the young man. Gybbon hoped the boy had the wit to not give himself away. He had no doubt that Robert would kill the boy if he thought Murdoch a threat to his plans.

  “I am nay sure we should just ride up to the Cameron keep anyway,” said the fourth brother.

  “We arenae going to fight them,” snapped Robert as he turned his attention to another brother. “We are just going to inquire about our kinswoman, Lachlan.”

  “Nay sure he will be so trusting as to tell us anything.”

  “Why wouldnae he? She is naught to him. But now we will go to the town up the road a ways, wash up, and get our clothing cleaned so that we are at our best when we rap at his gates.” Robert looked up at the sky as the first drops of rain began. “Find a damn bed to sleep in as we willnae be getting there this day. We may even be able to find out a few useful things about the Laird of Dubheidland that we can turn to our advantage.”

  “Are ye certain she would come all this way when she only met the mon twice, and her nay more than a child both times?”

  “Aye, Lachlan, I am sure.” Robert’s building temper was clear to hear in his voice. “I was standing right outside the door when our dull-witted aunt told Da all about it. It was while he was still conscious enough to speak on occasion. I dinnae think he understood it all, but he did tell her to be careful. Now, let us ride on to the town,” Robert ordered, and urged his horse to move on down the road, his brothers hurrying to trot along with him.

  Mora did not move. As soon as her cousins were out of sight, Gybbon lightly rubbed her back. It had to be hard to hear the men speak so harshly of her mother, but he hoped the faint tremble he felt in her body was not because she was crying.

  Moving deeper into the woods, he knew of a cottage nearby and hoped they could reach it before that one drop became hundreds. Grabbing the reins with both hands as Mora sat up straight, he made his way through the woods as fast as he dared.

  Mora forced her eyes to open as the raindrops began to hit her faster. She pulled up her hood and did up her bag so Freya would not get wet. She was still fighting to calm the rage she had been seized by as she had listened to her cousins, but the sympathy Gybbon offered silently had helped. Mora suspected he had thought she was crying and was tempted to correct him. Then she decided it might not be a good idea to tell him of her murderous thoughts. She turned her energy to hoping they found shelter before the rain worsened. Her wound still bothered her and she decided she would try to find a moment of privacy to take a good look at it, so she silently prayed he would soon find the cottage he had spoken of.

  Chapter Four

  As they rode out of the trees Mora stared at the cottage they now approached. It looked sturdy and well tended to, yet showed no sign of habitation. She was surprised it had not been claimed by someone. When she finally saw Sigimor, she might try to gently suggest he go to some of the cities and hunt for tenants as she knew that was where he would find many ready to move and work for a decent home to live in.

  Gybbon cautiously opened the stable doors, saw no animals, and led his horse inside. He quickly grabbed her by the waist and lifted her down. As he set down their bags and the blankets, Mora told herself it was the speed with which he lifted her down that left her a little breathless.

  While he unsaddled Jester and then settled his mount in a stall and made sure he had something to eat, Mora opened her bag to let out Freya. When her pet escaped her and ran into an empty stall, she nearly ran after her knowing the animal was searching for a place to do her business, but then decided to just let her go. After all, she told herself, any animal stabled here would use the place the same way. A little buried cat mess would not bring any notice.

  Freya had just gotten back in the bag when Gybbon came to her, collected the blankets and his own things, took her by the hand the moment she grabbed her bag, and went to look out the stable doors. It was now pouring and he sighed. Mora looked at the rain and sighed, too, resigning herself to getting wet.

  “We are going to have to run for it, lass, and we will still get wet.” He looked down at her as he draped a blanket over his head and around his shoulders. “Ready?” he asked as he stepped out, tugging her after him, and pulled the stable doors shut.

  “Aye,” she replied, glad for the slight overhang of the stable roof as it held off some of the rain if she pressed hard up against the wall. “Best to stay clear of me,” she said as she pulled up the hood of her cloak, then grabbed tightly onto her bag and the cloak’s front. “I cannae see too clearly with my hood up.”

  He released her hand and ran toward the cottage. Mora took a deep breath and then followed him as fast as she could. She used the temptation to get beneath the covered front step to keep going.

  She bumped into Gybbon and quickly moved to stand beside him. He opened the door and, after looking around for a moment, grabbed her by the hand and tugged her inside. While he shut and secured the door, she took off her coat, then undid her bag to let Freya out. From the outside and in the rain it had not looked like a very big cottage, but from the inside it proved to be a lot bigger than she had thought. More important, she could not see any immediate sign of leaks.

  She stood in a large room with an impressive stone hearth in the middle of one wall. As she hung her cloak on a hook to the side of the fireplace, Gybbon piled some wood in the hearth and worked to get a fire started. Mora glanced at the narrow steps that led up to the loft, then over at the far wall where a kitchen and eating area had been set apart just a little. There was one shuttered window on each wall and Mora welcomed the light thrown off by the fire almost as much as she did the heat.

  Glancing at the neatly stacked wood by the hearth, she said, “’Tis weel supplied for a deserted home.”

  Gybbon stood and hung the blanket he had worn on another hook. “Sigimor made it clear to any who visit regularly that they must leave something to help the next visitor and was verra firm on the n
eed of leaving some wood at the ready to start a fire. He kens that the occasional stranger makes use of the cottage when the weather turns against them on the road but, as long as they dinnae stay too long or destroy anything, he lets it be. Many of my clan have used the cottage when traveling.”

  “Do ye think he hopes someone useful to him might come along and be convinced to stay?”

  “I wouldnae be surprised. He has invited any Murray or MacFingal to settle if they feel inclined to.”

  “But no one has yet?”

  “I think he may get a few of the MacFingals before long if only because there are so many of them. The men in my clan seem to marry weel or will inherit something, but one cannae tell if some of the younger sons might be tempted if they are nay so fortunate.” He looked toward the kitchen and frowned. “I am nay sure we have much hope for a decent meal. The rain will keep most of the game away, e’en the small game. I have a wee bit of rabbit but saved it for the cat. And, of course, I have the fixings for porridge.”

  “That will serve weel enough. I have a few pippens in my bag and a small number of berries. We can at least dress it up a bit.” She went to her bag and dug out a box, then handed it to Gybbon.

  Gybbon stared at the fine carving on the lid of the wooden box. “Nice work.” He traced the shape of the thistle with one finger.

  “My da did it.” She reached out to touch the horse standing next to the thistle. “He liked to do that. He said it gave him some peace and made him happy. I brought three different ones from the house. I feared they might be taken or destroyed and they are the one thing that was unmistakably his.”

  “Aye. Someone who does such work puts a wee bit of himself in the thing he makes.” He smiled faintly and set the box aside. “Then porridge and berries it is.”

  Mora moved back to her bag. She reached down to stroke the tops of the other boxes, holding the bottom of the bag firm. Gybbon was right. She could almost feel her father’s presence as she touched his carving. Mora wished she could have brought along some of her mother’s pottery, but it was simply too fragile for the trip she had needed to take. All she could do was hope it would still be there when she could finally go home.