Fated Hearts 02 - Highland Echoes (19 page)

Eanraig was not surprised when Bram told him the next morning that he would marry Annice Sinclair if she would have him. Bram hadn’t told Eanraig what happened but like every other bit of news in a clan, the story of Grace’s tryst with Michael and Bram’s subsequent reaction spread like fire through hay. By midday, Bram’s temper was foul. Eanraig hated to admit it even just to himself, but after the midday meal, he hid from his son in his solar.

Bram was hurting and Eanraig felt remorse over that, but the clan came first. He would get over it and because Grace had done her duty so beautifully, Eanraig expected that it would be soon but it would certainly help if Grace were gone for good. Now it looked like that was going to happen too.

There was a knock at the door. For a moment, Eanraig considered not answering. Being cornered by his angry bear of an oldest son was not an appealing prospect. But after a moment he called, “In.” Thankfully it was just a messenger.

“Good afternoon, Laird. I bear news from the Earl of Ross.”

“Come in. Ye’re most welcome.”

“Thank ye, Laird. I fear I bring sad news. Laird Terran, the Earl of Ross, died early this morning, God rest his soul.”

Eanraig made the sign of the cross. “God rest his soul. I am sorry to hear of this loss. He was an honorable man and a good friend. He’ll be missed.”

“The requiem Mass will be two days hence.”

“Clan business will prevent me from attending, but my sons Bram and Ian will attend in my stead. Come, I’ll see ye downstairs and send for refreshment.”

“Thank ye Laird, but I can’t tarry. I still have to reach Naomh-dùn tonight.

“Aye, that’s right, I’d forgotten Laird Eoin MacKay is Terran’s grandson.” Terran’s daughter Morven was Kentigern MacKay’s first wife.

When the messenger was on his way, Eanraig summoned his sons.
Terran, I’m sorry to lose ye, friend, but yer passing has come at a particularly helpful time
. He needed for his sons to be occupied for the next few days. Bram had trained under Laird Terran and would certainly wish to attend his funeral. He wanted Ian to go for an altogether different reason.

When his sons arrived, Bram looked as if he hadn’t slept the previous night and again. Eanraig felt a stab of remorse. “Lads, I have sad news. Terran Ross has passed away. God rest his soul.”

Both Bram and Ian made the sign of the cross, but Bram closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment. When Bram looked up again he said, “He’ll be missed.”

“Aye, he will. The requiem Mass will be Monday.”

“We’ll leave tomorrow morning,” said Bram.

“Aye lads, but I can’t go with ye, there is some business I must attend to. Ye’ll represent me.”

“Certainly, Father,” said Bram. It was a mark of how distracted his son was that he didn’t ask about the
business
Eanraig mentioned.

“There is something else I would like for ye to do. I have been considering Saundra Ross as a possible wife for ye, Ian.”

“Da, do ye really think it is appropriate to open betrothal negotiations at a funeral?” asked Ian.

“Nay I do not. What do ye take me for? However, I thought ye might take the opportunity to get to know her a bit. It might make negotiations easier later if ye are compatible.” Bram shook his head in disgust but Eanraig chose to ignore it. “Ye’ll go by boat tomorrow after Mass. Twill be much faster.”

“Aye. Is there anything else?” asked Ian. “I heard another messenger arrived yesterday.”

“Oh, nay. That was nothing important.”

“Then excuse me,” said Bram. He left the room without waiting for permission.

Eanraig scrubbed his face with his hands.

“Do ye have any idea what really happened with Grace, Da?”

“What do ye mean,
what really happened
? She was a faithless, conniving wench. She led yer brother on and broke his heart. Thankfully it happened well before the Sinclairs are due to arrive. He’ll have time to get over it.”

“Da, if ye think a wee bit more than a week is enough for him to recover from this, ye are daft.”

“We’ll do what ye can to help him, lad.”

*

The next morning Bram went to Mass with his family as usual. For the last few weeks Sundays had been perfectly wonderful. He had accompanied Grace and Kristen for their walk on the
hiww
and ate on the
gwass
. Then Kristen would curl up for a nap and he and Grace talked and laughed, and more recently, he had held her in his arms and kissed her. How had she managed to fool him so completely?

He tried to put her out of his mind. He caught a glimpse of her as she left Mass. He wondered how long it would take him to stop looking for her beautiful auburn hair in a crowd. As sorry as he was that old Laird Ross had passed away, frankly he was glad to be leaving for even a few days. He had to get over her…but he didn’t think he ever would.

How had she turned love off so fast?
Ye eejit, she never loved ye in the first place. How could she have
?

Ian, Bram, and four guardsmen left midmorning, riding to the port village. As they rode into the village, Bram wondered if this was like the little port where Grace had grown up. Damnation, he had to stop doing this. Aye, a few days away would be a start.

*

Grace had spent most of the previous day inside. It was the tenth day, and she finished the ribbon in the late afternoon. Part of her wanted to hand it to Lady Sutherland herself. She had done what was asked of her. Everything that was asked of her. But she simply couldn’t walk through the village to the keep. She couldn’t bear the scornful stares and whispers. Nor could she bear the thought of seeing Bram. She put all of the remaining thread in a basket with the completed ribbon and asked Innes to deliver it for her.

Michael had stopped by for a bit in the evening. They had to keep up the farce, which in turn would keep the rude comments coming. After the excruciating day, she cried herself to sleep for the second night in a row, waking with a headache in the morning.

How could she walk to Mass to the chorus of disparaging remarks only to stand in the back of the church, so close to the man she loved with her whole heart but who was beyond her reach forever? Losing Callum to death was easier than this.

“I’m not going to Mass, Grandmother.”

“Of course ye are. Tis a mortal sin not to.”

“God doesn’t seem to pay much attention to me. I don’t think he’ll miss me.”

“Grace! Stop that kind of talk. Ye’ll be branded a witch.”

“I’m already a harlot according to most of the Sutherlands.”

“Sweetling, ye know those rumors aren’t true. I know they aren’t. The rumors will die eventually. I expect it was jealousy when the young laird was smitten with ye. Ye’ve done this clan a great service and someday people will know that.

“Nay, they won’t. They can’t ever know. If Bram ever found out, it would kill him and I can’t imagine what it would do to his wife.”

“But someday…”

“Nay, Grandmother, never. Do ye understand? Never.”

Innes sighed. “Aye, lass. I understand. Now come with us to Mass.”

Kristen, who had been unusually quiet for the last two days, heard Grace say Bram’s name. “We’ww see Sir Bwam at Mass, Mama. Then he can cwimb the hiww wif us.”

Grace drew in a ragged breath. When Laird Sutherland had threatened her, Grace had forgotten that Kristen too was losing another loved one, and she would never understand why. Grace needed to talk to her, to try and explain, but she couldn’t find the words yet.

“We can’t climb the hill today, sweetling. But we will find something fun to do. I promise.”

“We have to leave for Mass now, or we’ll be late,” said her Grandmother.

Grace couldn’t fight it. She nodded and left with them. The slurs came as she knew they would. She tried to ignore them. Perhaps if people thought they didn’t bother her, they would stop. When Kristen asked, “Gwanny, what’s a hawwot?” Grace nearly lost all composure
“Nothing. Don’t say that word, lass,” Innes scolded.

“But—”

“Wheesht, lass.”

After Mass, before the people were dismissed, Laird Sutherland announced the death of the Earl of Ross and that his sons would be traveling to Ross to represent the Sutherlands at the funeral. Grace knew Bram had trained there and she worried about how he would take this loss. She wanted to offer him comfort as he had her on so many occasions. Instead, she hurried out of Mass to avoid seeing him.

Grace had to leave Sutherland and the sooner the better.

The late morning sun streamed in the windows as Eanraig paced his solar. His messenger had returned three days ago. The Morrisons were to have only been a day or two behind him. What could possibly be taking them so long? The Earl of Ross’ funeral would have been yesterday. Bram and Ian could return at any time and he did not want Bram present when the Morrison men arrived. He felt sure it would be a painful scene with Grace spouting more lies. He wanted to spare Bram the ordeal. As if simply thinking about the Morrisons had conjured them, a guardsman knocked at the door. “Laird, a party of men who bear the Morrison banner approach.”

Thank the good Lord. Perhaps Eanraig would see this mess resolved without causing Bram further pain and perhaps even ease the loss he felt. “Aye, I’ve been expecting them. When they arrive, show them into the great hall, I will meet with them there.”

His thoughts were interrupted a moment later by another knock as his wife joined him in the solar. “I understand a party of Morrisons approach. They are from Lewis are they not?”

“Aye, Rodina, they are.”

“Is this about Grace?”

“I’m afraid it is.” He told her the news the messenger brought. “It is what I feared from the start. That is why I sent a man to find out all he could about her.”

“The only thing the messenger was told was that Grace was lying. About what? Why wouldn’t they tell him more?”

“I don’t know. Apparently Laird Morrison decided to send men to fetch her home and assured the messenger they would tell us everything.”

Rodina’s brow furrowed. “And yer messenger heard this directly from Laird Morrison?”

“Aye, I suppose.”

“Ye suppose? Ye don’t know?”

He scowled at her. “I sent a messenger to meet with all three clan leaders on Lewis, Macauley, the Lewis MacLeod’s, and Morrison. I didn’t know which clan she was from.”

“But ye are sure he spoke with the lairds?”

“Aye, Rodina, I’m sure.” But he wasn’t. He hadn’t asked. Still, the messenger’s instructions were to speak with the head of each clan. “Besides, clearly Laird Morrison sent men to claim her just as he told the messenger he would. This should please ye after what she did to our son. Now I must go to the great hall to meet with them.”

Rodina frowned. “I know she hurt Bram. But something isn’t right there. I don’t know what it is. She finished that ribbon as I asked her to in ten days. She must have worked nearly around the clock. Why would she push herself so hard?”

“I don’t know, Rodina. It doesn’t matter. What matters is finding out the truth.”

“Eanraig, ye have to be sure they are telling the truth. This will break Innes’ heart…again.”

“I will, Rodina. I don’t want Innes hurt either.”

“Then do ye not think it would be kinder to Innes if ye meet with them here, privately, instead of in the hall?”

“Mayhap, but Innes loves Grace unreservedly. She refuses to see what low morals the lass has. This needs to be witnessed so others can convince Innes that she’d be better off without Grace.”

“Aye, I suppose so, but it won’t be easy. We will have our hands full.”

“We? Rodina, it isn’t necessary for ye to be there.”

“Do ye not think Innes will need support when she hears all of this?”

“Innes doesn’t need to be there either.”

She gave a most unladylike snort. “Eanraig, sometimes ye are a very dense man. When ye send for Grace, there isn’t a single chance that Innes will let her come alone.”

He scowled at her. “I could order her to wait in her cottage.”

“And what would that do? She must be told the outcome in any event. It will be better if she hears it for herself.”

Eanraig nodded.“I suppose ye are right. Well then, shall we go?”

“Are ye not going to send for Grace first?”

“Nay Rodina, I want to hear what the men have to say first then I’ll send for her.”

*

The day was unusually hot. By midmorning the sweat ran down Grace’s back as she worked the new loom. Just past midday her Grandmother had urged her to take a break but she didn’t. She couldn’t bear the comments and after Kristen asked what a
harlot
was, Grace needed to protect her little ears too. Besides, she had to produce enough to be able to live off of the sale of her goods. She had to pay their rents and keep them fed. She had meant it when she told the laird that she wouldn’t accept anything from him. Aye, he had provided her with wool and flax, but she had earned it. The value of the ribbon she made for Lady Sutherland was twenty times what those raw materials cost.

Still, she had nearly decided to go outside for a while anyway. Her grandmother played with Kristen in the shade of a tree just down the lane. It was far enough away that perhaps people would leave her alone. She could take advantage of the breeze and spin in peace. She stood, stretched, and stepped outside the cottage just as Donal approached in the lane. His expression was grim.

“Donal, what’s wrong? What has happened?”

“Laird Sutherland sent me for ye. He said ye were to gather yer possessions.”

Dread gripped her heart. “Gather my possessions? Why?” What was happening?

“Just do it,” he snapped.

Donal had always been friendly and jovial. Even over the last couple of weeks, when the rumors started, he had been kind. His change in attitude clearly told her the dread she felt was not unwarranted.

“Aye, of course.” She went back into the cottage on the edge of panic. He followed her, standing just inside the door. She had no more belongings than when she arrived. She made a bundle containing her mother’s box, the ribbon loom, and her spinning tools. When she had added the few articles of clothing she owned, Donal stepped forward. “That will do. We can’t keep the laird waiting.”

“But I haven’t packed any of Kristen’s things or my father’s knives.”

“Ye won’t need them. Let’s go.”

“What do ye mean I won’t need them?”

“Just what I said, ye won’t need them.” He grabbed her elbow with one hand and the bundle in the other.

“Nay Donal, let me go. I need to tell Grandmother and fetch Kristen.” But even as she said it, she saw her grandmother rushing toward her from the end of the lane. Maisie was with her and held Kristen.

“Innes will come with ye but ye don’t need Kristen to speak to the laird. My mother will mind her for a bit.”

Grace dug in her heels and pulled back. “Donal, please stop. Tell me what’s happening.”

“What’s happening at this moment is ye are defying Laird Sutherland’s order. Come with me quietly now or I’ll throw ye over my shoulder and carry ye up to the keep. That will be a fine spectacle for the villagers to see.”

Innes had reached them by then. “Grace, please, I’m sure whatever it is can be sorted out. Laird Sutherland is fair.”

Grace loved her Grandmother, but she didn’t understand how she could believe that after the last few days. Grace looked over her shoulder at Kristen who waved merrily at her. “Mama, I’m going to make bwead wif Maisie.”

Her heart lurched. She knew something was dreadfully wrong but she didn’t want to scare her daughter. “Aye, pet,” she managed to choke out. “I love ye.”

“I wuv ye too, Mama.”

Donal gave her arm another tug and she didn’t resist him.

Terrified by what was happening, Grace stumbled blindly through the village and up to the keep with Donal half dragging her.

Michael was one of the guards on the gate as they reached the castle. “What the hell is going on? Donal stop, ye’re hurting her.”

“Michael, ye don’t know what she’s done.”

“I know ye don’t need to be so rough with her.”

“I think ye need to join us in the hall, then ye can be the judge.” Donal motioned to another guard who was walking though the bailey. “Kent, take Michael’s post for a while. He is needed in the great hall.”

Under his breath he asked, “Grace, what’s happening?”

“I don’t know, Michael. I’m scared.”

“Wheesht. I’ll be with ye.”

When they entered the hall, Laird and Lady Sutherland sat at the refectory table looking as grim as Donal had. Six men who she didn’t recognize as Sutherlands stood by. One of them stepped towards her reaching for her hand. “Nina, love, it’s time to come home now.”

Her grandmother gasped.

Grace jerked her hand from him, stepping backwards. “What? My name’s not Nina. Who are ye?”

“Nina, ye’re breaking my heart. I’m yer husband, lass.”

“My husband? I’ve never seen ye before.”

“Husband? Grace?” The confusion and fear in her grandmother’s voice echoed her own.

“Laird Sutherland, please, what is happening?” Michael asked.

“I’m glad ye’re here Michael, ye need to hear this too. I was worried that this young woman was not what she seemed. Especially when she seemed so determined to win my son’s affection and then yers. I sent a messenger to Lewis to see if he could learn more about her. I’m sorry, Innes. Tristan and his wife did indeed live there, but this lass isn’t their daughter.”

“That is ludicrous,” said Michael. “She has friends in Durness who know who she is. I’ve met them.”

“Michael, don’t interrupt.”

Grace couldn’t believe her ears. “That’s a lie. I am their daughter. Anyone in our village could tell ye that.” She rapidly scanned the faces of the other men. Her heart sank as realization dawned. She recognized several of them as guardsmen who had been with Laird Morrison when he collected the rents. Somehow Fearchar had found her.

“Aye, Laird, I’m certain she’s my granddaughter. They are lying.”

“Nay Innes, they aren’t. Roddy here is her husband. He has a marriage certificate with her mark on it and a letter from Laird Morrison.

A letter from Laird Morrison?
Nay, this had to be Fearchar’s work. He must have sent these men. Laird Morrison would have no reason to lie about her.

Innes turned to the man who claimed to be Grace’s husband. “I don’t care what he has, Grace
is
Tristan’s daughter.”

“I’m sorry, mistress, she is my wife Nina. She knew Tristan’s family well. She and Grace were friends from childhood. An illness swept through our clan last winter. Tristan and his family were all taken by it—all but his wee granddaughter, Kristen, the real Grace’s daughter.”

Grace was speechless, she could only stare in horrified silence.

Roddy continued, “Sadly we lost our own daughter as well. After that Nina—well it was a terrible blow. She went a bit off. She thought our Myra was simply lost. She would wander off searching for her. I thought Nina would recover with time and tried to be patient. Then in April, just after the Feast of Saint Mark, she disappeared. She kidnapped Kristen from the family who was raising her. She must have stowed away with the child.”

Michael swore. “Laird, I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous. Grace is Kristen’s mother. I don’t care what they say.”

“Michael, hold yer tongue.”

Grace finally found her voice. “Please, Laird, none of that is true. Not a word of it. Laird Morrison would not have written those lies about me. Laird, please, ye must believe me. I am Grace Breive, Tristan Murray’s daughter and Kristen is my child. I showed ye my father’s brooch and I proved it to ye with the knife.”

Roddy shook his head. “I am ashamed to say she stole things from Grace’s cottage—things that had been packed to send here to ye. A brooch and a knife belonging to Tristan were among the pilfered items.”

“She didn’t prove her identity by producing her father’s knife, ye spineless eejit. She showed them the throwing skills he taught her.”

“Michael, enough!” roared Laird Sutherland.

Grace saw a brief flash of surprise on Roddy’s face but he recovered quickly. “As I told ye, Nina and Grace were the closest of friends from childhood. Tristan taught them both knife skills. Perhaps that is why she stole the knife.”

“Laird, they’re lying. I have a letter that my da wrote to grandmother.”

Innes nodded. “Aye, Laird, the letter explained why Tristan went away. There was no question that he composed the contents. Grace rea—”

“Stolen too,” Roddy said, cutting her off.

Her grandmother’s shoulders sagged as if the weight of what was happening was simply too much to bear. Lady Sutherland rounded the table, putting her arms around Innes, comforting her. “I’m so sorry Innes.”

Ashen faced, Innes turned to Grace. The doubt in her eyes rent Grace’s heart.

“Nay, Grandmother, ye must believe—”

Laird Sutherland banged his fist on the table. “Don’t say another word! I’ve had enough.”

“Laird, please, at least look at Tristan’s letter. There could be something in it that would help,” Michael implored.

“Eanraig, what could it hurt to look at Tristan’s letter? We need to be sure.”

“I am sure, Rodina, don’t question me again. And, Michael, I know she has twisted ye round her finger as she did Bram, but he has her marriage certificate.

“How do ye know it’s real?”

“It bears her mark! Nina, what ye have done is unconscionable. Ye have stolen a child and caused immeasurable pain to one of my clanswomen, not to mention my son and poor Michael here. Ye should be horse whipped.”