Highland Sinner (31 page)

Then Tormand thought of his past and of the list Morainn had seen, a list that made it very clear what sort of life he had led before meeting her. He just prayed he would have the chance to tell her that.

Chapter 17

Tormand slowed his rush to find Morainn the moment he saw the open door to the room they had shared. This time he forced himself to go forward, fighting the cold fear that gripped him and tried to hold him in place. He breathed a huge sigh of relief when he saw no sign of a body or even much blood. He did see a few signs of a struggle, from the knocked over table and the disordered rushes on the floor to a little blood near the door that he quickly looked away from, refusing to allow the sight to stir his fear for Morainn into a useless panic.

A soft moan had him rushing to the far side of the bed, where he found Walin struggling to sit up, blood trailing down his pale cheek from a cut on his head. He could not understand how or why the boy was here as he bent to help Walin up. The others joined him and he soon had Walin bandaged and sitting in a chair sipping at a small tankard of cider.

Simon was crouched by his slowly rousing dog. Tormand could not hear what the man was saying, but the tone of Simon’s voice told him the man was trying to coax the dog into getting up. Seeing how pale and shaken the boy was, Tormand put aside the gnawing need to rush out and hunt for Morainn.

“Lad,” asked Simon, as he stepped up next to Tormand, “how did ye and Bonegnasher come to be here?”

“I wanted to see Morainn,” the boy replied, as tears slowly trickled down his cheeks. “I missed her and no one would let me go to visit her e’en for just a wee while.”

“What happened here, Walin?”

“Those bad people came here just like they came to our cottage,” Walin said, crying so hard that his voice cracked and shook, making what he said a little difficult to understand. “The woman said a lot of awful things and then the mon said they had to leave so they werenae caught here when all of ye returned.

He tried to grab Morainn, but Bonegnasher leapt over and bit him on the arm.” Walin looked at the dog that sat by Simon’s side, leaning up against the man as though it was still a little stunned.

“Calm yourself, lad,” Tormand said gently. “We need ye to speak more clearly and tell us what happened step by step.”

“When ye left, I let Bonegnasher free and followed ye. Morainn gave me a verra long lecture. I just wanted to see her. We had something to eat and then the bad people came and the woman and Morainn talked about a lot of things and then when the mon reached for Morainn, Bonegnasher leapt right up and
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bit the mon on the arm. He threw the dog against the wall just like he did to William, and then I tried to fight him but he threw me, too. Is Bonegnasher going to be all right?”

“Aye.” Simon scratched the dog’s ears. “I think ye will be too. That means we only have to find Morainn and bring her back.”

“They are going to hurt her and kill her,” Walin said. “That lady talked about killing people, and she kens about me and who I am and was even going to kill me once but the mon she told to do it couldnae and he left me with Morainn and then she killed him.” He looked at Tormand. “And she said ye are my father and some woman named Margaret Macauley was my mother and she was sent to the nunnery where this woman was and the bitch killed my mother and tried to tell her parents that I was her bairn so they would make ye marry her.” Walin looked around at all the men. “I think she killed them too. Ye have to get Morainn away from them.”

Tormand felt as if he was going to swoon like some lack-witted maiden as what Walin said began to sink into his mind. He staggered back a little and Harcourt caught him by the arm to steady him. It was not that Walin said he was his son that caused the most shock; it was how many times the boy had nearly been killed just because of one madwoman’s jealousy. He could have lost his child before he had even learned of his existence.

“I can see it clear now,” murmured Harcourt. “It explains why he always made me think I should ken who he is.”

“Curse it, I cannae think on this now.”

“Nay,” agreed a tearful Walin. “Ye have to go and get my Morainn back. Ye cannae let that bad woman hurt her.”

Forcing aside all thought on the chance that a madwoman had actually been telling the truth and Walin was his son, Tormand nodded. “That is what is important now. Do ye ken where they went? Did ye hear anything at all that may help us reach her faster?”

“Nay,” Walin said in a small voice. “I was lying there feeling as if I couldnae breathe, ye ken, because I bounced off the bed and landed verra hard on the floor. Morainn told me she loved me as they took her away. Oh, and she said I should tell ye that she will always dream of ye. I dinnae ken why she said that.

Why didnae she just say she loved ye, too? Or e’en ask ye to take care of me or the like?”

“Because she was telling me where they were taking her,” Tormand said quietly, hope surging in his chest as he crouched down so that he was eye to eye with the boy. “Think verra hard, laddie. Did they say anything about how long they might have to travel or which direction they were going in?”

“Nay, but, if Bonegnasher isnae too badly hurt, ye could have him show ye the way. He bit the giant and the mon was bleeding like a stuck pig.” Walin frowned. “The mon did say that they shouldnae be out when it was so light as they might be seen, and if they didnae hurry they wouldnae e’en have the morning mists to hide them as they rode, for they would be burned away by the sun in an hour.”

“Bonegnasher is good for a hunt,” said Simon.

Uilliam stepped up and lightly brushed his hand over Walin’s curls. “I will take the lad back to your home, Tormand, and we will wait there for ye to bring Morainn back.”

Walter also stepped up and said, “I will go with them to watch his back unless ye think ye will need me.”

Tormand nodded and stood up. ”Nay, we face only two people and I would feel better kenning that
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Uilliam and Walin have someone like ye to watch their backs.” He looked down at Walin and then lightly stroked the boy’s tearstained cheek. “We will talk later when we have our Morainn safe at home. Aye?”

“Aye.”

As Tormand and the others hurried out to where their horses waited, he glanced at the dog and was pleased to see that the animal seemed to be fully recovered. The dog caught the scent quickly and ran around in circles as he waited for the men to mount their horses. It should be an easy trail for Bonegnasher to follow, thought Tormand, as he looked at the blood on the ground. This time there would be no Ide to clean and stitch the bastard’s wound.

As they rode, following the dog, Tormand fought his mounting fear for Morainn by thinking of Walin. It was true that, once a relationship was claimed, it was easy to see himself in the boy, but he could not trust only his eyes in such an important matter. Neither did he think it was wise to trust completely in what a scared little boy thought he had heard. The only thing that kept him from immediately denying the possibility that Walin was his son was that he already began to recall a Margaret Macauley and her big blue eyes, eyes just like Walin’s. He struggled to pull up every memory of the woman as they rode and found it easier now that he recalled her eyes.

“Do ye remember bedding a woman named Margaret Macauley?” asked Simon, as they slowed for a minute so that Bonegnasher could sniff around to make sure he found the trail they all wanted him to.

“Aye, and the time is right. I spent a week with the lass about seven years ago. I remember that she always thought it amusing how easily she could creep out of her house. One night she e’en had me sneak in, as she wished to make love in her own bed with her parents asleep down the hall.” He grimaced. “I left her soon after that for, with a few ales in me, I had thought it funny at the time, but nay when I was sober again. She also had that glint in her eye.”

“What glint?”

“The one that says she is trying to think of ways to drag me before the altar. There he goes,” he cried when, with a soft yip, Bonegnasher bounded off again.

Tormand put all thoughts of Margaret and blue-eyed sons out of his head and started to plan the many ways he was going to kill the bastards that had taken his Morainn. He used those bloodthirsty thoughts to keep himself from thinking on all the ways they could be hurting Morainn even now. Having seen what these people did to the women they caught, he knew he would become as mad as they were if he allowed such thoughts to prey upon his mind. He kept one thought and one thought only in the fore of his mind—he would find Morainn and he would slaughter the ones who had taken her away from him.

Morainn bit back a groan as she slowly opened her eyes. Only one opened completely and she tensed as she suddenly recalled why her left eye throbbed and would only open a little way. Small had hit her when she had struggled to get away once he had set her down inside of a hovel that smelled strongly of sheep.

She had seen the stakes stuck in the dirt floor and, remembering her dream, had fought hard against being tied down to them. Morainn did not have to look to know she had lost that fight.

For a moment a blind panic swelled up inside of her, especially when the feel of the dirt against the skin of her back told her she was naked. Morainn fought against the mindless terror that threatened to steal her wits, but it was several minutes before she began to calm herself. She found anger at what was being done to her and clung to it, using it to give her strength.

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She also told herself that Tormand would come for her. In a way, fate had already delivered her one strong hope for rescue, although she thought it odd that that hope had come in the form of a dog called Bonegnasher and a naughty little boy who could not stay where he had been told to. Simon would use his dog to follow the trail left by Small and Ada. Then she recalled that the dog had been hurt and panic tried to stir to life again. She
would
believe that, like her cat William, Bonegnasher would be fine and the dog would lead Tormand and the others right to her. Just as she had to believe that Walin was all right, a little bruised but otherwise fine. All she had to do was stay alive until her rescuers came.

When her tormentors crouched on either side of her Morainn felt her anger sharpen and welcomed it, nurtured it. She glared at both of them even though the knives they each held chilled her to the bone.

Forcing her gaze away from the cold steel that would soon be used on her helpless body, she studied Ada.

Plain was the only word to describe the woman. In fact, Morainn did not think she had ever seen a woman, or man, so lacking in any memorable feature, good or bad. She had dark eyes, but they were not a brown that drew any attention. The woman’s hair was that same sort of ordinary brown, not enlivened with a reddish gleam, not too straight, too thin, or too curly. Just plain brown hair. Her skin was clear, her features even, but no more than that. It was the same with her body in that she was neither too tall or too short, too big or too small. If one looked very hard, one could see past the blinding ordinariness of the woman and see that she had a neat, womanly shape, but one had to look very hard and Morainn suspected few bothered. Ada was a woman who did not catch the eye and probably did not stick in a person’s memory past a brief greeting.

It explained why Simon had been having difficulty finding anyone who could describe the woman. Ada MacLean had nothing anyone could really describe. Morainn knew that, even though she strongly believed the seeds of this woman’s madness had been inside the woman from the moment she was conceived, being a person no one could remember or noticed must have given those seeds some very fertile ground to grow in.

“Are ye ready to be punished, Morainn Ross?” asked Ada.

“For what? Living?” Morainn could see that the anger in her voice surprised the woman. “Och, aye, I suspicion a lot of women didnae mourn the loss of Ladies Isabella and Clara. But Lady Marie? She was an innocent, her only crime being that she was Tormand’s friend. For that ye destroyed the heart of a good mon and left two bairns motherless. And Lady Katherine Hay was as near to being a saint as a person can get.”

“She took my page away from me!” Ada took several deep breaths and then continued in her usual icy little voice. “The bitch said I was cruel to the boy. I was simply giving the lad the discipline he needed.

She told his parents and they took him away. That fat pig I had to marry wouldnae get me another one, either.”

“And for that ye butchered her? Ye robbed Sir John of the woman he loved, his angel, and left e’en more children without a loving mother. The punishment doesnae fit the crime.”

“She was as bad as all the others, using her beauty and womanly wiles to get what she wanted. She had no right to interfere in my business. No right at all. And, ye, witch, willnae be allowed to either.”

The first cut was not deep, but it hurt so bad Morainn nearly screamed. Instead she gritted her teeth and refused to make a sound. She would not give these butchers the pleasure of hearing her plead for mercy.

“I already have,” Morainn said, as soon as she felt she could speak without revealing her pain or fear.

“They ken who ye are now. They also ken that ye have taken me and, nay matter what happens here, ye
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will lose this sick game ye play. It willnae be Tormand who dances at the end of a rope, but ye.”

“Nay, ye are lying. Ye havenae seen that.”

Morainn caught the look of fear in the woman’s eyes. “I have seen all of this and I ken how it ends,” she lied. “Ye willnae be a nothing anymore, Lady MacLean. Nay, ye will be a curse on the lips of thousands.”