Highland Sinner (15 page)

“For all we ken, she already has,” said Simon. “And Harcourt is right, Tormand. The woman is mad. Ye cannae blame yourself for what she does.” He looked at Morainn. “And now she hunts ye, Morainn Ross. She fears ye might see her in one of your visions, doesnae she?”

“Aye,” replied Morainn. “She doesnae doubt I am a witch and, as I told ye, she truly feels I will help ye find her.” She blushed faintly. “And because she believes Sir Tormand is bedding me now.”

“I have only just met ye,” protested Tormand.

Morainn sincerely doubted length of acquaintance mattered much to the man when it came to bedding a woman he wanted. The looks on the faces of the other men told her they felt the same, but she just said,

“This woman believes ye have, e’en though her companion did have his doubts. She said ye had caught my scent and would run me to ground. She saw ye looking at me when we were at the Redmonds’. If she cared for ye once, she doesnae anymore. All she wants for ye is for ye to be shamed, condemned, and hanged.”

“Jesu,”
whispered Uilliam, the youngest of Tormand’s kinsmen. “Ye have to leave here now, Tormand.”

“Nay!” Tormand realized he had come close to shouting and took a moment to calm himself. “Nay, I willnae run, nay doubt dragging this mad bitch behind me. I swear to ye, if Simon tells me ’tis time for me to hide, then I will, without argument. That is all I will promise to do.” He could see that his young brother was not happy, but Uilliam just nodded. Tormand turned to look at Simon. “And, ere ye ask, I have nay idea who this woman could be. I have ne’er even hinted at marriage to any lass and avoided all those who might e’en think of it.”

“That doesnae mean some lass still didnae think it or might have wished it so,” Morainn said quietly, wondering why his words stung her heart. Many a bachelor spoke disparagingly of marriage. “This woman also sounded verra much like a spoiled child. If she had decided, in her own mind, that ye should be her husband, it wouldnae have mattered what ye did or didnae do, or say. She may have even done something verra foolish to catch your eye or entrap ye, something ye never e’en kenned about, and that was why she was made to marry a mon she didnae want.”

“And so everything she has suffered since then has been my fault? That makes no sense.”

“Of course it doesnae, nay to us. She is utterly mad.”

“There were no names mentioned?” asked Simon.

“Nay,” replied Morainn. “Once she called him Small, but I dinnae think that is his true name. Sounds a wee bit English, doesnae it, and he is definitely one of our own. He only called her m’lady. Oh, and when she suggested that the dog might help to find me she called it Dunstan. Fortunately, the mon told her that
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it would take too long to fetch the dog and she eventually heeded his pleas that they leave.” She smiled faintly. “It isnae much, is it? I am sorry.”

“Ye have naught to apologize for. ’Tis far more than we had. If the weather holds, we may be able to get my dog out here and follow that blood trail.”

“Ye dinnae sound verra confident that that will work.”

Simon grimaced. “Mad or nay, these two are cunning. They havenae left me a sniff of a trail yet. I can follow them to where they did their evil work, but then all scent of them fades away.”

“Ye do ken that ye arenae safe here now, dinnae ye?” asked Tormand.

She did, but she was not sure what she could do about it. The fact that the men had been waiting for her at her door when she returned to her home meant that she had not had any time to think about the problem, either. With all the men staring at her, the courage needed to ask for their help faded and the words stuck in her throat. Morainn also felt annoyed that she had to ask men to help her at all. She knew that was foolish, that she had barely escaped with her life last night, but she knew pride often warred with good sense. She had lived ten years without leaning on a man to survive; she did not want to have to do it now.

“I cannae just walk away from here,” she said. “I have chickens, cats, and a cow. Then there is my garden.”

“We will take ye to my home in town,” said Tormand, the tone of his voice indicating he would hear no argument about it.

Morainn gave him one anyway, although she was not really surprised when she lost it. She was also relieved that she had. It stung her pride to admit it, but she was deeply afraid to stay alone in her home with only a knife, a small boy, and an ill-tempered cat for protection.

Her things were collected even as she continued to offer the occasional protest. Even her cats were secured in two small cages she used for taking chickens to market and then secured to the saddles of Rory’s and Simon’s horses, much to the animals’ loud disgust. Walin made no effort to hide his delight over the chance to go and stay with the men and to ride on a big horse with Harcourt. As Tormand led her toward his horse, Morainn looked at her cottage, her home for the last ten years, and wondered if she would ever return to it.

A soft gasp escaped her when Tormand grabbed her around the waist and swung her up into the saddle.

She was struggling to fix her skirts more modestly when he nimbly swung up behind her. Every time the man touched her it felt as if a fire licked at her skin. He wrapped his arms around her, took hold of the reins, and started them on their way.

Morainn felt the warmth of his hard body seep deep into her soul and had to wonder if she was really going to be safe in his home. The killers might not be able to reach her there, but Tormand would, and Morainn was certain that Sir Tormand Murray could be dangerous in his own way. She might walk away alive when this trouble ended, but she feared she might not be taking her whole heart and soul away with her.

Chapter 9

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The quiet of the house pulled Morainn’s attention away from the tarts she was setting out to cool. She had been in Tormand’s home for two days and, although the men went out a lot, it had never been this quiet. Now that she thought about it, the smell of her cooking should have had Walin lurking close at hand and she had not seen the child since they had shared their morning meal together in the great hall, listening to the plans the men made. With so many men keeping a close watch over the boy, Morainn knew Walin had to be safe and yet not seeing Walin for so long suddenly started to make her feel afraid.

Deciding she would not cease worrying until she actually saw Walin, she went looking for him.

After searching through the rest of the house the only place she had left to look was the room where Tormand kept his ledgers. Morainn stood in front of the closed door, hesitant to intrude upon the man’s private room, but her growing need to know where Walin had gone refused to be ignored. She realized that some of her hesitancy was because Tormand might actually be inside the room.

Since her arrival at his home Morainn had seen Tormand only when they all sat down to their meals. It was as though the man was avoiding her. That hurt, but she knew it was probably for the best. She just wished it was enough to make her stop longing for him. Instead, it was making the longing all the more keen. Shaking her head over her own foolishness, Morainn rapped on the door to see if Tormand was in there. When there was no reply, she called out his name as she slowly opened the door, allowing him more time to reply before she fully intruded upon his work.

Tormand watched the door slowly open and sighed. He had been doing his best to ignore the fact that he and Morainn were alone in the house except for her cats. His best had not been very good, for he had done very little work considering the hours he had spent hiding in his ledger room. Every time he tried to think of another name to add to the list Simon was forcing him to make, his mind began to wander down a path that led straight to a naked Morainn spread out beneath him, crying out his name as he gave her pleasure.

The list, he suddenly thought, and stared at the paper in front of him in horror. Tormand frantically searched for something to put over it to hide it from sight. Even as Morainn took her first step into the room, he put his ledger book on top of the list and opened it just to make sure that the heavy book completely covered the infamous list of lovers.

“Oh, I am sorry,” Morainn said. “I knocked and called, but ye made no sound.”

He stood up and moved to the front of his desk as he smiled at her. Leaning against the desk, he crossed his arms over his chest and tried not to look as guilty as he felt. Trying to block the sight of a list that was already well covered by his ledger was idiocy, but that did not make Tormand move. As he had worked on that list he had begun to feel less and less like a great lover and more like the rutting fool Simon had called him. In truth, the man appearing in his mind’s eye as he wrote down name after name was not one he liked very much. He did not want Morainn to see that part of him, a part he had just decided would now be no more than part of his reckless past.

“I was but slow to answer as I was working on something,” he said. “Can I help ye with something?”

“Weel, it feels foolish to e’en ask because I ken that Walin has been weel taken care of and protected, but do ye ken where he is now?”

“Uilliam took him for a ride back to the cottage so that the boy could attend to a few chores. Harcourt is with them.”

Morainn was relieved, but also somewhat dismayed. “I must find someone to tend to those things until I can return home. It isnae right that ye, or any of the others, are troubled by the need to take me or Walin to see to what are my duties.”

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“And ye shouldnae be troubled by doing a housekeeper’s work while ye are staying here.” A little more relaxed, Tormand was able to move away from his desk and walk to the table near his shelves of books where he kept some wine and small tankards. “Did I e’er apologize for that cursed woman’s ignorance and unkindness?” he asked, as he poured them each some wine.

“Aye, as did everyone else. ’Tis no bother,” Morainn said. “The work helps me keep my mind off the reason I am hiding here.”

“’Tis nay work a guest in my home should have to do.” He walked over to her and held out one of the drinks he had poured. “Here. Pause for a wee while in your work, sit, and share some wine with me.”

Taking the drink, Morainn allowed him to lead her to a chair set before the fireplace. He took the other chair for himself and turned it slightly so that he could face her across the small table set between them.

Morainn took a drink, savoring the smooth rich taste of a wine only those with a full purse could afford to drink.

She felt warmed by his attention, realizing that she had become starved for it, but knew it was not wise to sit there with him as though she were his equal. The craving to see him, to bask in the warmth of his smiles or his gaze, and to let the sound of his deep voice stroke her would have passed after a brief absence. This interlude, fleeting as it had to be, would only work to keep such cravings strong.

“Have ye had any more dreams?” he asked.

“Nay, there have been no more visions about the killers.”

Morainn prayed Tormand would think the blush she could feel heating her cheeks was due to a shyness, a maiden’s natural unease over being alone with a man, and not press her any harder concerning her dreams. The dreams she had been having lately were not ones she wished to share with the object of them. They were the sort that left her aching with need for him. For a woman who had never had a man, had never even enjoyed a willingly shared kiss, she was astonished at how quickly her mind could fill with images of Tormand naked, of the two of them entwined flesh to flesh. What troubled her most was that she could actually feel the heat of his kiss and the touch of his hands long after the dream had ended.

Realizing that just thinking about her dreams was making her feel needy, Morainn hurriedly tried to think of something to say to distract herself.

“I am curious as to why Simon hasnae asked me to hold another hairpin,” she said and almost cursed.

She had heard her voice waver a little as she had said the man’s name. It still made her uneasy to use the informality they had all insisted upon. Worse, she had just strongly implied that she was anxious to touch another one of those cursed hairpins. Although she truly wanted to help find the killers, she was still reluctant to suffer through another vision of the monsters at their evil work. What she had seen in that vision often slithered through her mind making her feel very afraid.

“I thought I had made it understood that I am willing to help,” she forced herself to say.

Tormand wanted desperately to ask her why the talk of dreams made her blush. He had been tormented by heated dreams, ones that made him wake up achingly hard and asweat with a need he had never felt before. However, despite his occasional bouts of jealousy that had him imagining Morainn with a long trail of lovers behind her, all Tormand’s instincts told him that she was an innocent. He would be willing to wager his growing fortune that she had very little knowledge of the pleasures a man and a woman could share. Just the thought of being the man to introduce her to those pleasures made his blood race through his veins. Smiling faintly, he allowed her the change of subject.

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“Simon was hesitant to inflict another such violent vision upon ye even as we rode to your cottage that day,” he said. “Seeing and hearing what had happened to ye in the night made him even more so.”

“I cannae say that I wish to suffer through another one, but these killings must stop.”

“We are agreed on that.”

“The wounds they suffered may cause them to retreat for a wee while, but since the dog lost their trail out of the wood, what I might glean from the hairpins is even more important, isnae it?”