“Howe will come for me when he is freed from the stocks and this time he will kill me. I will never be free of him.”

Espy sat at the table across from Bonnie and watched her take a quick, nervous glance at the door, as if expecting her husband to burst through it. It had been two days since the incident and Bonnie was healing well, though fear had her jumping at every sound. She was looking much better as well, having washed up nicely and the swelling having gone down a little in her eye while the bruise at her jaw had turned a paler purple.

“From what the guard told me, Howe is to remain in the stocks until Lord Craven says otherwise, so you have nothing to fear right now,” Espy said.

“Like a condemned prisoner, I have a short reprieve before death takes me.”

Espy had treated battered wives before and there was not much recourse left to them. Some ran away, most had no choice and continued to suffer the beatings, and then there had been one she met who made sure her husband never beat her again and made his death appear natural.

“I am sure Lord Craven will offer you safe haven with the clan,” Espy said in hopes of reassuring her.

“Lord Craven is as much a beast as Howe,” Bonnie said, tears gathering in her eyes. “I remember when I first saw him. I had never seen a man the size of him. He towered over every man there and he was covered with sweat, blood, and grime, returning home from battle. He and his warriors had stopped at Clan MacVarish to let our old laird know that there was nothing for him to fear that Clan MacFillan would not encroach on MacVarish land any longer. No one would go near Lord Craven, no one but Aubrey. She brought him food and drink and most believe that it was her kind heart and beauty that tamed the beast.” Bonnie wiped a tear away. “Aubrey had the gentlest soul and with her gone, the beast has returned and soon will lay claim to our clan.”

“What do you mean?” Espy asked surprised and curious over her remark.

“Clan MacVarish’s old laird lies at death’s door and Aubrey was his only heir, a niece, I believe. She had come to live there about a year before she met Lord Craven. The land and clan now goes to Lord Craven once the laird dies, greatly enlarging his holdings since MacVarish land borders MacCara land. The beast will rule us and he does not care about his own people since Aubrey’s death, why should he care about the Clan MacVarish or me? He put Howe in the stocks because he attacked one of his warriors, not because Howe beat me. He will release my husband and he will come for me, and there will be no one to stop him.”

Espy felt helpless as she so often did when there had been no recourse to help people. Her hand went to her cheek, reminding her differently.

Bonnie stood, wincing as she did. “If I leave now, I may get far enough away that Howe will not be able to find me.”

Espy stood and with gentle hands on Bonnie’s shoulders eased her back down in the chair. “Do not let fear make you do something foolish. You are not well enough to walk a distance and besides, it is not safe for a woman to travel alone. Believe me, I know. You could find yourself in a worse situation than you are already in. Right now, you are safe here. We will think of something to continue to keep you safe.”

Bonnie took hold of Espy’s hand. “I wish I had your courage. I heard the two guards talking about how you beat Howe with a split log. I wish I was that brave.”

“You left him to seek help for yourself and that takes courage. You are braver than you know,” Espy said with a smile and a reassuring squeeze of Bonnie’s hand.

The door suddenly opened and Cyra walked in with a smile, about to speak when she caught site of Bonnie.

“Cyra,” Bonnie cried and went to the older woman, her arms going around her.

Espy smiled, seeing the two women hug. Bonnie had talked about how Cyra had helped her more than once after Howe had beaten her, the MacVarish healer too frightened of Howe to offer any help. It would take Bonnie hours to walk here and Cyra would tend her, then take her home on her horse. Once Howe had caught her and threatened Cyra. Cyra had returned the threat, letting Howe know that Lord Craven protected his own.

“I have not seen you in some time, Bonnie,” Cyra said. “I feared that I made things worse for you when I returned Howe’s threat.”

“He warned me against seeking your help, but this beating was too much. I feared I would not survive it.” Bonnie turned to Espy. “Your granddaughter helped me and did more than threaten Howe, she beat him.”

Cyra grinned. “You must tell me all about it.”

The three women sat at the table and talked and after about an hour Bonnie began to yawn. Cyra insisted she needed to sleep and helped her into bed. Wanting Bonnie to have quiet and wanting to talk privately with her granddaughter, Cyra handed Espy her cloak after grabbing her own and the two stepped outside.

They walked a short distance from the cottage and glancing around, Cyra said, “Now I know why Craven left two guards to watch over you, though I see only one now.”

Espy’s skin prickled, feeling like a hundred tiny bugs crawled along it. It could mean only one thing if one of the guards had left. He went to take word to Craven that Cyra was home, which meant… Craven would be coming to get her.

She no sooner had given it thought, then she saw riders approaching in the distance.

Cyra gasped and reached out for Espy’s hand.

Espy took tight hold. “You must promise me, Seanmhair, that you will do nothing. I will not see you harmed.”

“How can I stand by and do nothing while my granddaughter is carted off to…” Cyra shook her head, tears filling her eyes.

“You must promise me. It is time I face this. I cannot run any longer. I do not want to. God willing, all will go as it should.”

“You have a brave soul, Espy,” her grandmother said and hugged her tight.

Espy choked back her tears. She was not as brave as her grandmother thought, but she did not want her to know it. She wanted only to make sure no harm came to her grandmother.

Espy took a quick step away from her grandmother. “I must see Trumble before I go. Please promise me that you will see to his care and keep him safe. He has saved me on many an occasion.”

“Trumble will be safe with me,” Cyra promised.

Espy hurried to say her good-byes to the horse that had been her companion and friend for almost the whole year she had been gone. She pressed her cheek to his face and he pawed the ground, sensing something was wrong.

“I will come for you if at all possible. Otherwise Cyra will take good care of you, my friend.” She gave him one last hug and hurried away, her heart breaking at leaving him.

Craven was just pulling his horse to a stop when she reached the front of the cottage. He stared at her, not saying a word and dismounted. She understood his silent command. She was to go to him and surrender. She went to her grandmother, gave her a hug and told her not to worry, and with an even stride and her chin up, walked over to Craven.

He placed his hands at her waist and lifted her onto the horse, then he mounted behind her, his arms circling her as he reached to take the reins in his hands. He turned his horse and his six warriors followed, and they rode off.

“You will not harm my grandmother?” Espy asked when the cottage was far behind them.

“Cyra did nothing and you came without protest. She is safe,” Craven said, trying to ignore the ease in which Espy had settled against him and how she seemed to fit so comfortably in his arms.

“I have a favor to ask,” Espy said, glancing up at him. His dark eyes showed not a hint of caring and yet she felt something different in his body. It seemed to wrap comfortably around her as if—she almost shook her head at the insane thought—she belonged there in his arms.

“A last request?”

“If it must be so,” she said, a chill racing through her that death waited close by for her.

“Tell me,” Craven said curious as to what it might be.

“Please do not return Bonnie to her husband. If you do, he will kill her. Please invite her to join the Clan MacCara and keep her safe.”

Craven had had all intentions of doing just that before she asked, having had Dylan find out what he could about the couple. That Espy asked protection for another when she could have begged for her own life gave him pause.

“Bonnie will be kept safe within the Clan MacCara,” he said and was again surprised when he felt her body sigh against him in relief.

Silence followed them for a while until Craven asked, “How did you get that scar?”

“It matters not,” Espy said.

For some reason, the shudder he felt run through her told him differently and it also disturbed him. “That is for me to decide, though I suppose you deserved it.”

“There would be some who would agree with you.” Espy turned her head when she saw Craven’s head lift a bit and his glance move beyond her.

The sight of a rider fast approaching diverted Craven’s attention and when he saw the fast pace Dylan rode, he knew something was wrong.

Dylan brought his horse to an abrupt stop. “Britt has been in labor for a full day and the baby will not deliver and the women who help do not know what to do. She has begged me to bring Espy to her.”

“Cyra has returned, she can help,” Craven said.

Dylan shook his head. “No, she pleaded with me to bring Espy to her and now I plead with you to allow Espy to tend her.”

Espy turned to Craven. “Please let me help her—”

“You mean kill her,” he accused, his words sounding harsh to his own ears.

“I cannot change the past as much as I wish I could, but please do not let the past hurt Britt and her bairn. You will still be able to have your revenge on me once I am done helping Britt.”

“We are wasting precious time,” Dylan argued.

“Be warned, Espy. If anything happens to Britt or the bairn—”

“I will kill her myself,” Dylan said.

His remark stabbed at Craven’s gut. It was something he should have done himself a year ago and the thought sparked anger in him, he shouted sharply for his men to follow.

Dylan and Britt’s cottage did not sit far from the keep. Several women lingered outside as they came to a stop in the front. They all stared wide-eyed at seeing Espy on the horse with Craven. They quickly blessed themselves, though Espy was not sure if it was protection against her that they sought or if it was for her for what she would face at Craven’s hands.

Craven dismounted and reached up to take her by the waist and lift her off the horse. His strength was hard to ignore and so was the growing flutter in her stomach that she got every time he touched her. It was odd and she wished she could make sense of how the man who wanted her to suffer and die stirred something in her, but at the moment she had no time to dwell on it, Britt came first.

She went to walk away from Craven, when he took hold of her arm, stopping her. “I will be waiting right here.”

“I remind you again, I have no place to go.” With that, she pulled her arm lose and hurried into the cottage, Dylan following behind her.

“I brought her,” Dylan said and wanted to scream with rage, seeing his wife near to the point of collapsing from exhaustion as she was helped by two women to walk back and forth.

“Espy!” Britt cried, tears springing from her eyes to roll down her flushed cheeks.

Dylan went to go to her, but Espy slipped around him and hurried Britt into her arms.

“Time to rest, Britt,” Espy said and looked to Dylan. “Please help her get in bed.”

The two women hurried out of Dylan’s way and he lifted his wife gently in his arms and carried her to the bed.

“I need you all to wait outside for a moment,” Espy said.

“No,” Dylan said, though it sounded more like a shout and it sent the two women scurrying out of the cottage.

“Please, Dylan, do as she says,” Britt said with what strength she had left. “I am safe with her.”

“I will not leave you alone in her care,” Dylan insisted.

“I have no time to argue with you. Stay if you want, but keep out of the way,” Espy said and bent over Britt to feel her stomach.

“The bairn refuses to be born, though he does come earlier than I expected,” Britt said, fear in her every word.

“He or she is stubborn and will have it his way,” Espy said with a smile as she continued to press on Britt’s rounded stomach.

“Like his father,” Britt said, smiling for the first time in hours.

“I need to feel inside you, Britt,” Espy said and Britt’s smile faded.

“You will not,” Dylan said, stepping forward.

Espy ignored him. “I believe the bairn’s head has not turned and I need to make sure.”

Britt began to cry.

“What is wrong?” Dylan demanded.

“Go wait outside, Dylan,” Britt said softly and when he went to argue, she reached out to him and he grabbed her hand tightly in his, as if he intended never to let go. “Please, do this for me, Dylan. We have nothing to fear with Espy here to help.”

Dylan did not agree with his wife but one thing he and Britt had done since falling in love was to trust each other. He had to trust her instinct now even though memories of what had happened to Aubrey flashed through his mind. He bent down and kissed his wife’s brow. “I will be right outside the door.” He looked to Espy, a warning ready to spring from his lips, and before he could say a word she spoke up.

“I have delivered stubborn bairns before.”

Dylan felt a twinge of relief and hoped it was so as he said, “Please keep them both safe.”

Espy looked to Britt as soon as the door closed. “This is not going to be easy, Britt.”

“I know,” Britt said, “but promise me you will keep my bairn safe no matter what you have to do.”

Espy took her hand. “It will take some doing, but I will keep both of you safe.”

Britt smiled through her tears. “I have so wanted to come see you and ask you to tend my birth, but Dylan forbid it and I did not have the strength to walk out to Cyra’s place. I am so relieved you are here now.”

“We better get to work. With the way the bairn is positioned and possibly arriving sooner than he should, there is much care to be taken.”

“Tell me what I must do and I will do it,” Britt said with a determined yet tired voice.

“Rest a moment while I prepare things and worry not, we will get through this,” Espy said. She turned, then turned back again. “The two women who helped you?”

“Elva and Mina. They have helped with many births.”

Espy went to the door and summoned the two women. When she explained what was amiss with the bairn, both women turned worried glances to Britt.

“I have seen this before,” Mina whispered, “and it does not bode well for mother and bairn.”

“Because the delivery was not done properly. All will go well with us working together,” Espy said, reassuring them with a confident smile.

The two women did not appear as confident, but they both were quick to do as Espy instructed.

* * *

“I should go in there,” Dylan said, having paced in front of the tree Craven leaned against for the last hour.

“You should have let me send for Cyra,” Craven argued.

Dylan shook his head. “She wanted Espy.”

“As did my Aubrey, and look what happened to her.”

Dylan stopped pacing. “Britt has told me over and over again that Espy fought like no other she had ever seen to save Aubrey and your child. She says she is skilled in ways other healers and physicians are not.”

“Heathen ways from what that useless physician I brought from Edinburgh to tend Aubrey told me. It seems Espy’s father traveled extensively to heathen lands and returned with barbaric treatments that had his colleagues thinking him insane.”

Dylan snapped his head toward the cottage.

Concerned for his friend and family, Craven urged, “Go and make sure she is not harming your wife.”

Dylan was about to step forward when an agonizing scream rang out from the cottage. He did not hesitate and either did Craven. They ran.

Elva stepped out the door just as they were a few steps from it. She held her hand up to stop them. “Britt does well. It will not be long now.”

Dylan reluctantly backed away, Craven did not.

“Dylan will see for himself,” Craven ordered.

Elva stepped aside, fearing the mighty Craven.

Dylan stepped forward and the door opened.

Espy looked to Elva. “Hurry and get those blankets.” She looked to Dylan. “Make sure there is enough firewood. If the bairn is small, he will need to be kept extra warm.” She turned to go inside and her eyes caught with Craven’s. She had expected to be met with hostility, but there was concern and sadly there was sorrow there. He was thinking of his wife and bairn, and her heart hurt for him.

Craven watched the door close behind Espy. There had been no blood on her, which was a good sign and she spoke with confidence as if all was well. He hoped it was so. He did not want his friend to go through the horror and misery that he had suffered.

Craven placed a strong hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “Come, I will help you with the wood.”

Dylan nodded, staring at the closed door and Craven gave him a slight shove to get him moving, but once they started swinging the axes there was no stopping Dylan. Craven could not help but wonder if the wood was needed or if Espy had given Dylan a task to keep him too busy to worry.

* * *

Espy attempted what her father had learned from the old healers, to try turning the bairn. It had taken some coaxing and manipulating, and at first Espy thought the bairn would not turn, but he began to move and to Espy’s relief he turned completely. It was not long after that ordeal that the bairn slipped out of Britt more easily than expected and let loose with a loud wail as if he was relieved to finally be free.

“You were right, Britt. He is a fine stubborn lad just like his da,” Espy said with a soft laugh as she held him up for Britt to see.

Britt grinned as happy tears rolled down her cheeks. “He is a good size.”

Elva and Mina agreed, smiles and a few tears on their faces as well.

“Let us hurry and finish so that the new da can meet his son and see that his wife did a fine job,” Espy said with a smile of her own. A good, safe birth never failed to bring happiness to all. It was one of the joys she loved about being a healer.

Elva saw to getting the bairn cleaned and swaddled while Mina helped Espy tend Britt, change the bedding, and get Britt into a fresh nightdress. When all was done, Britt was sitting up in bed, beaming at her wee son sleeping comfortably in her arms.

Britt looked to Espy. “Please, get Dylan, I am impatient for him to meet his son.”

Espy removed her apron, Elva taking it from her and adding it to the soiled beddings she and Mina would take with them to wash for Britt, and opened the door. The cool air kissed her warm skin and she took a deep breath enjoying the refreshing feel of it.

When her eyes met Dylan’s, full of worry and fear, she smiled broadly and he dropped his axe and ran for the cottage.

“You have a fine, fit son and Britt is eager for you to meet him,” Espy said as he came to an abrupt stop in front of her.

“Britt is well?” Dylan asked anxiously.

“More than well.” She stepped aside, turning to the open door. “See for yourself.”

Mina and Elva hurried out after Dylan entered and before he closed the door, Espy heard Britt say joyously, “Come and meet your son.”

Elva and Mina stopped briefly in front of Espy and before hurrying off they whispered, “Bless you and may God keep you safe.”

Espy wondered over their words and when she turned around, she understood. Craven approached. He must have been helping Dylan cut wood, his naked chest glistening with sweat as well as the taut muscles along his arms. She shivered at the strength in every step and movement he took and knew he would soon use that strength to make her suffer.

The door flew open and Dylan stepped out, bursting with pride. “Come, Craven, and see my son.”

Craven gave a nod and quickly snatched his shirt off the bench and slipped it on before reaching her. She hastily stepped aside, but he caught her by the arm and forced her into the cottage before him.

Espy’s heart once again went out to Craven as he looked upon the wee bairn sleeping peacefully in Britt’s arms. Though there was happiness there, there was also pain.

Craven praised the wee lad. “He will be as strong as his da.”

Dylan grinned, besotted by his wee son.

A knock sounded at the door and Espy opened it to see Elva there.

“I mistakenly gathered this pouch up with the soiled linens,” she said and handed it to Espy.

Espy took it and thanked the woman.

“Who is it?” Britt asked.

“Elva took this by mistake,” Espy said, holding the pouch for Britt to see.

She turned an accusing eye on her husband. “I told you to get rid of that.”

“I put it aside, thinking you might change your mind,” Dylan said.

“I did fine without it,” Britt quipped.

“That you did, wife,” Dylan said and gave her a kiss.

Curious, Espy opened the pouch and poured some of the dried, crushed leaves in her cupped hand. “What is this?”

Dylan and Britt remained silent and kept their glances away from Craven.

“It belonged to my wife,” Craven said and held his hand out to Espy for her to give it to him.

Espy ignored him, pushing the leaves around in the palm of her hand, then held them up to her nose to sniff them. “Aubrey took these when she was with child?”

“That does not concern you,” Craven snapped.

“Who gave these to her?” Espy demanded.

Craven stepped toward her, ready to grab the pouch from her hand. “What does it matter?”

“It matters greatly,” Espy said. “One of these herbs taken by itself would have done little to harm Aubrey, but mixed together they cause bleeding.”

“Would the physician have known this?” Craven asked, his stomach clenching at what it might mean.

“The physician gave this to her? How long did she take this and how often?” Espy asked, clearly upset.

“The physician had it sent three months before his arrival and had her take it twice a day.” Craven’s heart began to pound against his chest. He had made sure that she followed the physician’s directions, even bringing her the brew at times.

Espy shook her head as if trying to make sense of it. “A knowledgeable physician would have never blended these herbs together.”

“Are you saying that whoever mixed the contents of that pouch knew what he was doing?” Craven asked anxiously, his mind reeling with the implication.

“Whoever mixed this pouch was either beyond ignorant of the property of herbs or did so with the intent of causing extreme bleeding,” Espy said.

There was complete silence in the room for a moment as everyone gave thought to Espy’s remark.

Craven finally spoke. “Are you saying that someone intentionally killed my wife?”