Highland Sinner (24 page)

“Ye must have heard that,” she said.

“Aye, I did,” he said, as he hurried to the window and gently but firmly put his body in front of hers. “I think someone is coming to visit us and not to offer condolences on the loss of a good friend.”

Even as he spoke she heard a sound that was chillingly familiar. It was the sound of a crowd full of anger and eager to do something to the ones they were angry with. When they had come after her mother it had been fear that had driven them, but she knew the results would be the same. Her mind filled with memories of the horrible day they had come and taken her mother; their fear, and the anger and hatred it filled them with, driving them to kill her. Morainn had barely escaped with her own life that night and by the time the sun had come up she had found herself with no kin and driven out of her home into the woods. Once calmed, their blood thirst slaked by the death of her mother, the ones who had caught her at her home in the early hours of dawn had simply driven her off like a stray dog and warned her never to return.

She started shaking, possessed by all the fear and grief the young girl she had been had suffered.

Tormand put his arm around her shoulders and held her close to him. His warmth and unspoken concern helped her regain some control over the fear that was swamping her.

“Dinnae be afraid, Morainn,” he said quietly and kissed her cheek. “They willnae get us.”

“Nay, they willnae.”

Tormand jumped in surprise and felt Morainn do the same as Simon suddenly appeared at their side. “

Jesu
, Simon,” he muttered. “I think we need to put a bell on ye. How did ye get in without us seeing ye?

We have been looking out the window and should have seen ye ride up.”

“There is more than one way to get into your house, Tormand.” Glancing out the window, Simon then looked at Tormand. “Ye have to leave here. Now.”

Tormand eyed the small crowd beginning to gather in front of his home. “There arenae verra many of them.”

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“There will soon be a lot more.”

“Weel, with my kin and mayhap a few of your men, we could—”

“Fight them? I really dinnae wish to kill off a lot of the townspeople, idiots though they are right now. This time it is far more than whispers of suspicion, mayhap a few threats and insults, Tormand. Katherine was weel loved and these people are thirsting for blood—yours.” He nodded at Morainn. “And hers.”

“Morainn? Why should they be calling for her blood? No one thinks she is the killer, unless there is something ye havenae told me.”

“They want me because I am the Ross witch. Just as they wanted my mother,” she whispered.

Simon cursed softly. “They want ye because they think ye are helping him either to kill these women or to keep him from hanging for what he has done.”

“Of course,” she muttered. “It doesnae matter that I ne’er e’en saw him until after the second murder.”

“Magda is behind this.”

“Weel, she certainly hasnae helped, but I dinnae think she is the one driving this crowd up the street.

Now, pack what ye think ye will need for a wee stay in the hiding place I am about to take ye to.” Seeing the taut, stubborn look on Tormand’s face, Simon knew an argument was coming and there was no time for one. “Sir John also said ye must leave. Ye and Morainn. He said Katherine had warned him about the mood of the people and that she thought it was being poisoned by others.”

“The killers?” asked Morainn.

“Mayhap, but it could be any fool with a way to stir up other fools. I—”

Whatever Simon was about to say was lost as a rock sailed through the window they all stood in front of.

Tormand shielded Morainn with his body and winced as shards of glass pricked his skin through his shirt.

A quick glance out the hole the rock had made in his expensive glass window, and Tormand could see that there would be even more rocks and the crowd would follow them into his house soon.

“Go.” He pushed Morainn toward the door. “Grab a few things and then we leave.”

“Walin,” she began, as she stumbled toward the door.

“Will be safer here with my kin, Simon, and Walter. Hurry,” he ordered.

The moment she was gone, Tormand looked at Simon. “Can ye get us out of here?”

“Aye. I can hear your brothers and cousins arriving. Get yourself a few things and then I will take ye to the hiding place I have found. As we flee here, your brothers will face the crowd and try to drive them back to their homes.”

Cursing viciously, Tormand ran to his bedchamber and stuffed a few clothes into a bag. He donned his sword and tucked his sheathed knives wherever he could. Although he ached to stand his ground he knew that was pride talking. There was little a man could do against a crowd determined to see him dead. Even four armed Murrays would not be enough to hold the crowd back for long. There was also Morainn to consider. He could not keep her safe here any longer.

Even as they slipped out of the house through a back way where three horses waited for them, saddled and packed with supplies, Tormand could hear his kinsmen yelling at the crowd. He prayed they would
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not be injured in the bid to give him and Morainn a chance to escape. Simon looked as though he wanted to go join them, sword in hand, but he silently led them through the darkening streets away from the danger.

Simon took them on a long and winding route through the town and out on the west road. Tormand kept a close watch on Morainn, and not because she was not an experienced rider. An angry crowd was frightening, especially when you were the one they were after, but she still looked terrified no matter how much distance they put between them and that crowd. He suddenly recalled her whispering something about her mother and winced. It had been an angry crowd that had made her an orphan and then an outcast. He did not even want to think of the dark memories this had to be stirring up in her mind.

He was just about to ask Simon exactly how far away he was taking them, when a ruined tower house came into view. Tormand frowned as they rode closer, for it looked as though there would be no protection from the weather in such a ruin. Although he had lived rough a time or two he was not fond of doing so, but most of his concern was for Morainn. It was not until they halted and he dismounted that he realized that some very subtle repairs had been made.

“This is it,” said Simon, as Tormand helped Morainn out of the saddle.

“Rough,” Tormand murmured as he slipped an arm around Morainn’s shoulders, politely ignoring the fact that she was unsteady after what many would consider a short ride.

“A wee bit, but nay as bad as it looks. Come inside.”

Feeling that Morainn was steadier, Tormand took her by the hand and followed Simon. At first it looked just as great a ruin inside as it did on the outside, but then they turned a corner and Tormand silently sighed in relief. Behind the thick door Simon opened was a sizable living space divided into a cooking area, a sleeping area, and even a tall wooden screen blocking one corner that he assumed was where they could be private if either of them needed to be. A wide bed was up against one wall and there were kegs of drink and other supplies stacked against another. Tormand was both pleased and dismayed. He welcomed the attempt to make his retreat comfortable, but it also looked a little too much like a gentle prison where he would have to hide for a long time.

Morainn wandered around the wide room, astonished by how clean and well supplied it was. After pressing her hand briefly on the bed, she realized there was even a feather mattress. Tormand and she would be hiding away like outlaws, but they would do so comfortably.

“When did ye arrange this?” she asked Simon, as she set her small bag of belongings down next to a chest at the foot of the bed.

“I began preparing it the moment I heard the first whisper of blame placed at Tormand’s feet. I have seen too many innocent men die because a judgment of guilt was made too quickly.” He shrugged. “Wherever I am, I make certain I ken where there are hiding places, places where one can wait safely until the truth is found and they can return home without fear. Although, some have returned home only to pack up and leave, for they cannae bear living among those who would think so poorly of them, would be willing to see them die for crimes they had not committed.”

“One’s peace and trust are all gone,” said Morainn. “Ye can never fully shake the fear that those people will turn against ye again and the next time ye willnae be able to escape.”

“Exactly. Now, I shall take the horses to a safe place not far from here. The small crofter’s hut where the dogs made so much noise?” He looked at Tormand.

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“Aye, I recall it. They hushed quickly. Do ye think the ones who live there can be trusted to hold fast to a secret?” Tormand asked.

“Oh, aye,” Simon replied, conviction heavy in his voice. “They have a son in my service and think I am a great mon for giving the lad such a fine chance to better himself.” He smiled faintly. “They dinnae heed me when I tell them I gave their son a place in my service because he is big, skilled with a blade, and verra clever.”

“I suspect there are far too many poor lads who are much akin to him and yet ne’er get a chance to live any other way but the hard life in a wee crofter’s hut.”

“Mayhap. But this one saved my life.”

“A coin or two would have been thanks enough in many people’s eyes.” Tormand looked around the room. “This is a good place to hide. I but pray we willnae be hiding here for too long. How are we to let ye ken if Morainn sees anything of importance in her dreams or has some vision?”

“I will be returning to my own wee home at the edge of town. I believe ye can slip in and out of it with little danger of being caught.”

“Who will care for Walin?” Morainn asked. “I slipped into his room to tell him I would be leaving for a wee while, but, in truth, I am nay sure he was fully awake e’en though he answered me. I just need to ken that he will be safe.”

“He will be watched as carefully as he has been all the while ye have been at Tormand’s house,” said Simon. “If that proves unwise, we will bring him to my home. May do so anyway, although I dinnae have the room to house all those hulking Murrays as Tormand does. Dinnae worry over the boy, Morainn. He will be fine. In truth, without ye around, I dinnae think anyone will give him a thought save us, not e’en the killers.” He looked back at Tormand. “I would like ye to make a list of all the women ye are friendly with. There is quill, ink, and something to write on in that small chest.” He pointed to a plain little box set near a table and chair in a far corner of the room.

“Ye think Kat was killed because of me?” asked Tormand, fearing that himself, and not liking the fact that Simon had also considered the possibility. He had just begun to convince himself that her friendship with him could not have been the cause of her death. “I would have thought everyone would ken she was ne’er my lover.”

“I dinnae ken, Tormand. ’Tis possible but, coming so close on the heels of finding out that those murderers had killed Edward MacLean, I have to wonder if there was some other reason they went after poor Kat. Something that has nothing to do with ye. I am going to look into some of Kat’s dealings and see if there is something there that may explain this. Howbeit, a list would help me if only so I could warn any of the women who are near at hand.”

Morainn watched the two men wander off after Simon said a polite farewell to her and reassured her that Walin would be cared for. She then turned her attention to unpacking the things she and Tormand had brought with them. The hiding place Simon had made for them was far better than what she had expected, but she heartily wished it had not been necessary to use it.

As soon as she finished the chore of unpacking, she stepped behind the privacy screen to wash up and prepare for bed. The fright at Tormand’s house and her first lengthy ride on a horse had left her aching and tired. She had never contemplated all the danger she might put herself in when she had first helped Tormand and Simon, but she knew she would not have changed her course even if she had.

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At least she was not alone, she thought as she heard Tormand return. She had been through just such a fright ten years ago and never wished to suffer through another time of being alone and frightened, expecting death around every corner. As she stepped out from behind the screen, she smiled at Tormand, who stood there wearing only his braies and holding out a small tankard of wine for her.

“I am sorry ye have been dragged into this,” he said.

“Nay, dinnae be sorry,” she said, and lightly kissed his cheek. “It has done me good to use my gift in this way. S’truth, I can now actually call it a gift without wincing. I just wish it had been of more help. Do ye think that is why Simon hasnae had me hold another hairpin?”

“I think that if ye hadnae had that dream about poor Edward MacLean, Simon may weel have had ye try to have another vision. Now, however, he has a trail to follow and he will do it in his usual way. If he finds that isnae working fast enough, he may weel have ye hold another.”

“He is verra precise in gathering information, and so much of it.”

“As he said, he has seen too many innocent men die. Simon has a verra strong sense of justice and, if naught else, he is deeply offended when the wrong person is made to pay for a crime. That means the guilty one gets away, doesnae it?”

“Ah, aye, I suppose it does. Ye dinnae like this, do ye? This hiding bothers you.”

Taking her empty cup from her hand, he began to lead her to the bed. “It does. Pride is all it is. And, right now, listening to the voice of pride could get me hanged. I just have a fear that I may end up suffering as my brother James did.” Seeing her curiosity, he told her all about James’s trials as a man falsely accused of killing his wife, even as he pushed her down onto the bed and settled himself in her arms.