Secrets and Lies
Fynn and Ewan came upon David sitting on a bale of hay in the stables surrounded by a handful of young lassies arrayed at his feet. The sweetness of his pure voice caressed the air like a warm breeze, enthralling the women who listened to his song with rapt attention. Even sleepy-eyed horses had turned their heads to listen.
Ewan motioned Fynn to a halt just inside the door, but the moment David saw them he stopped singing and got off the bale. “I…I…I…”
The lasses, maidservants by the look of their apparel, scampered away.
“Sit,” Ewan ordered, genuinely sorry he’d interrupted the lad’s performance. “They were enjoying yer song.”
David’s face turned an even deeper shade of red when Fynn said, “Ye’ve a wonderful singing voice, laddie.”
Ewan was as astonished as David at the remark, but didn’t have the time or inclination to explain that the old warrior had fallen in lust, hence his newfound kindly nature. “Tell me of Moira,” he said.
David smiled. “I like her.”
He tamped down his impatience. “Aye, but what did ye find out?”
Puzzlement contorted the youth’s face. “Ab…Ab…about what?”
“Lady Jeannie, o’ course,” Fynn hissed, reverting quickly to his usual hostile tone.
“Jee…Jee…Jeannie, or Sho…Sho…”
“Enough,” Ewan shouted, causing several horses to toss their heads and stamp their feet, evidently annoyed they’d been deprived of David’s melodious singing. He pinched the bridge of his nose and lowered his voice. “Just tell us everything.”
David sat down again on the bale. “Sho…Shona was wed afore.”
Ewan clenched his fists, his fantasies about being the first to possess her going up in smoke. “What?”
“I mee…mee…mean the pretend Shona.”
The knot in Ewan’s gut loosened. “Ye’re referring to Lady Jeannie? The real Lady Jeannie?”
“Aye.”
Fynn gritted his teeth. “I kent a mon had hurt her. I’ll kill him.”
David swallowed hard, staring at the older man as if he’d lost his wits.
Ewan put a booted foot up on the bale and leaned forward. “Pay no mind. Go on with the tale.”
“Ai…Ai…Ailig was his name. A cru…cru…cruel brute, they say. Ban…ban…”
“Banished?” Fynn asked.
David nodded. “But Moira thinks his bro…bro…bro…”
“Brother?” Ewan interrupted.
“Aye. Mungo aids him.”
*
The next morning Shona hurried to Kendric’s chamber, confident her aunt would have already ordered oatmeal from the kitchens to break their fast. Jeannie wasn’t one to deprive herself of nourishment, though she never grew fat despite the copious amounts of rich food she consumed.
Shona had slept surprisingly well considering the terrible uncertainty about her uncle’s injuries, the betrothal conundrum and Ewan’s mind-boggling kiss. Had she not been awakened by the raspy lick of a wet tongue, she might still be abed.
Bathed, coiffed and dressed with Moira’s help, she was bursting to share her suspicions about Ewan Mackinloch. Her maid hadn’t been surprised by the revelations, and she was confident Jeannie would welcome the news.
Ruadh slumped down on the stone floor with a gruff growl when she refused him entry to the sickroom and shut the door behind her.
A quick glance at Kendric showed he was still asleep.
“He ate a little porridge,” Jeannie explained, “and the laudanum Donald administered during the night is helping him rest easy.”
Guilt poked at Shona. It might seem she wasn’t showing much outward concern for the invalid, but her news had to be told. “I have something important to tell ye, Auntie,” she began.
Jeannie took her by the elbow and drew her to the foot of the bed. “Wait! I have something to confess.”
“Confess?”
“Ye canna marry Fynn.”
The lines of worry on her aunt’s face tempted Shona to reveal the truth, but it was too good an opportunity to tease. She feigned outrage. “Ye want him for yerself.”
Jeannie blushed. “I do like the mon, but there’s something not quite right about him.”
Shona sniggered. “He has one hand.”
“Nay, besides that.”
Shona tapped a finger against her chin and arched a brow. “Ye mean he doesna act like a laird’s son.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s mayhap because he isna,” she declared, hands on hips.
“How can that be?”
“I think Ewan is the Mackinloch who’s come to be wed.”
Jeannie scoffed. “Ha! Ye hope he is.”
“Moira told me David is actually a Shaw. Ewan ordered him to claim he was a Mackinloch.”
“But why pretend to…”
They stared at each other, then collapsed in a heap on the end of the bed, tipsy with laughter, sliding guiltily to the floor when Kendric groaned in his sleep.
Outside the door, Ruadh howled for the first time in living memory. It only added to their hysteria.
*
Ewan and his kinsmen broke their fast in the hall. Fynn declined to sit alone on the dais. Between spoonfuls of oatmeal, the three kept a wary eye on the other men gathered there.
“Good…good…porr…porridge,” David remarked, licking his lips.
Fynn agreed. “I hafta admit the food has been better than I expected. Nigh on as good as mine. Mayhap Clan MacCarron isna as impoverished as we thought.”
Ewan suspected he was right and chuckled inwardly at the notion Fynn seemed to be a competent cook—if the breakfast trout was anything to go by. However, he was worried about what he’d learned concerning Mungo Morley. “When he leaves, I’ll follow him, David, then ye come after me. My gut tells me he’s up to no good.”
“What about me?” Fynn asked.
“Keep up the pretense. Go pay yer respects to the laird. See how he fares.”
Looking reluctant, Fynn scraped stunted fingernails through the stubble on his cheek.
Ewan punched his arm. “Look at it as an opportunity to see Lady Jeannie,” he quipped.
Mungo and one of his gang rose from the table and headed for the kitchens, leaving no more time for argument. When they emerged a short time later, the giant was toting a small sack. He scowled at the Mackinlochs before exiting the hall.
Ewan waited a few moments before following the two men to a small outer door across the bailey from the stables. He paused and watched them glance around before ducking into a side entrance.
“They seemed anxious to stay out of sight,” he explained to David when the youth joined him. “We’ll follow at a safe distance after they exit the stables.”
They waited until Morley and his man had ridden through the gates, then hurried to saddle Liath and Dubh. Five minutes later they headed out in pursuit.
Ewan said a silent prayer of thanks for fine weather that enabled them to see the dust cloud raised by the other horses. He resisted the temptation to increase their speed and kept to the cover of trees where possible. His caution paid off after about twenty minutes. The men they trailed reined to a halt, looked back the way they’d come, then left the path to enter a copse of hawthorns.
Ewan and David dismounted and pulled their horses into a clump of bushes on the opposite side of the trail. They tied up their mounts then scrambled back to the path and lay flat on the sloping bank.
“It’s a meeting,” Ewan rasped. “With his brother, I’ll warrant. Bringing him food. Yer bonnie Moira had the right of it, I think.”
David grinned. “Aye. Can…canny lass.”
“I’d like to get closer, hear what they’re discussing, but…”
“Noth…noth…nothing good,” David whispered.
“That’s for sure. It’s clear they have designs on the chieftaincy and Mungo strikes me as the impatient sort.”
His words gave him pause. He himself wasn’t known as a patient man and David had every right to resent his impatience, yet he didn’t react at all.
When voices drifted on the air they scrambled backwards into the bushes. Mungo and his man emerged and rode towards the castle.
It didn’t take long for another rider to appear, Mungo’s sack tied to his pommel. He looked both ways along the trail before urging his horse in the opposite direction.
When he was out of sight, Ewan and David retrieved their horses and led them out of hiding.
Grimacing, David traced a finger along his cheek as he mounted. “Does…doesna look like his bro…bro…”
“Nay,” Ewan replied, straddling Liath. “Mungo’s a red-haired mountain of a man; if that’s Ailig, he’s as tall, but dark and wiry. Half-brothers mayhap. That is a nasty scar. Looks like it almost took his eye.”
“Up…up to no good,” David observed as they regained the trail back to Creag Castle.
“Ye’re right,” Ewan agreed. He was preoccupied with what they’d witnessed, but the thought occurred that David must be getting more comfortable with him. The lad didn’t seem to stammer as much. Or maybe he was just becoming accustomed to it.