Highland Sinner (33 page)

“’Tis what I told myself and it helped. That and that ye willnae be left with verra many scars.”

Morainn stopped just as she was about to take a bite of bread. She had not considered the possibility of scars and felt dismayed over the thought of being marred. A moment later she inwardly shook her head and took a bite of bread. Vanity was a dangerous thing. She had never thought she possessed any, but she obviously had a little. Whenever it bit again she promised herself she would just keep repeating the words
I am alive
. When a concern about how Tormand might see them started to creep into her mind, she ruthlessly banished it. If the man could not abide a few marks on his lover’s body then she was well rid of him.

Which she might be very soon anyway, she realized, and fought the urge to cry. Her heart would undoubtedly break when he left her, but she swore she would not grieve for long. She would always love the rutting fool, but she was not one to bemoan what she could not have. Her life had been filled with could-not-haves. Morainn knew that she would fare better living without him than if she had to spend her life without his love or wondering just how often he left her bed for another’s.

“Are ye hurting?” asked Nora.

It was obvious that her friend had seen her darkening mood in her expression and Morainn sent out a little prayer of thanks that Nora had not guessed the true reason behind it. “Nay, not much. I was but struggling with a sudden attack of vanity.” She smiled faintly. “I ne’er thought I was vain at all, but there is obviously a wee touch of that sin in my heart.”

“Everyone has some. The trick is not to have so much that all ye e’er think about is how ye look. I discovered mine when James once caught me cleaning out the hog pen and I was covered in muck from head to toe. The fool laughed. He was soon covered in muck as weel.” She grinned.

Page 133

ABC Amber Text Merger Trial v
ersion, http://www.processtext.com/abcmerge.html

Morainn laughed despite how it pinched at her healing wounds. “I must nay bemoan a few scars. When I gain the courage to look at them, I will just remind myself that I am alive. I also still have all my hair and they didnae have time to cut my face as they did the others.”

Nora shuddered. “Hush. I dinnae e’en wish to think about all that might have happened. So, let us speak of something else. Is Walin truly Sir Tormand’s son?”

“I am nay sure that talking about that will cheer me much, but, aye, I believe he is. When Ada told me about it she wasnae the crazed woman Simon dragged back here. Och, she was quite mad and nearly lost her tight control on it, but I am certain she kenned what she was saying and I believe it.” She told Nora everything Ada had said. “Tormand says the boy has the look of his family and he does. The mother may have given Walin that lovely black hair and those big blue eyes, but everything else about him came straight from Tormand. I could see it the moment she told me the story.”

“What are ye going to do about it?”

“I have no idea. He
is
Tormand’s son; I am certain of it. I am but the woman who has cared for him for four years.”

“Ye are far more than that to Walin. Do ye ken? I am thinking the laddie is the one who will settle all this.”

“Mayhap that is just how it should be.”

Nora soon left and Morainn was glad of it, something she felt a little guilty about. She was tired, still suffered some pain from her ordeal, and she was heartsore. Reminding herself that she was alive did not, at that precise moment, bring her all that much joy. She told herself she felt so morose, so close to tears, because she was still weak, but did not believe a word of it. The quickest cure for her impending black mood was to let the need for sleep take her away from it all for a little while longer and she closed her eyes. It was a cowardly retreat and she knew it, but she swore to herself that she would be brave and strong later.

“Morainn? Are ye awake?”

It was not really the gentle pat of a small hand on her face that woke Morainn, but that sweet young boy’

s voice that was as familiar to her as her own. Turning her head even as she opened her eyes, Morainn smiled at Walin. The look of worry on his face vanished abruptly as he smiled back at her. Her heart twisted as she thought of how soon she might lose him to his father, a father who could give Walin a far better life than she ever could.

She reached out to stroke his soft cheek and fought the urge to grab him in her arms and run. It was not only a foolish urge, since she doubted she could even walk very far, but she knew Tormand would find them no matter how far she ran and well she hid. He would undoubtedly have the aid of his very large family as well.

“I am now,” she teased. “Have ye behaved whilst I was asleep?”

“Och, aye. They wouldnae let me go to the hanging, but I didnae mind so verra much. I didnae really want to see that woman again. But, Morainn, did ye hear what she said that day? I have a father. Sir Tormand is my father.”

“Aye, I heard her and ye are his son. I can see it now.” When Walin frowned, she asked, “Are ye nay
Page 134

ABC Amber Text Merger Trial v
ersion, http://www.processtext.com/abcmerge.html

pleased? Ye always wished to ken who your father was.”

“Aye and I am pleased, but I cannae leave ye and having a father means I have to be with him. His brothers and cousins talk about me meeting with the other Murrays who are now my kin and my clan, but I am nay sure I can do that. I think about it and then I think about how ye wouldnae be with me and I dinnae like it.” He sighed and leaned over to rest his head against her chest. “I dinnae want to lose ye.

Ever.”

“Walin, my love, ye can never lose me. Never. But,” she idly stroked his thick black curls, “ye are a growing boy and now have a father willing to teach ye, to train ye, so that ye can have a verra good life.”

“I am still a bastard.”

“Aye, there is nay changing that, but we both ken that a lot of bastards have gained honor and fortune.

All I can give ye is work in the garden and tending the few livestock that we have.”

“Dinnae ye want me anymore?”

“Of course I do. Dinnae be foolish. I will always love ye as if ye were my own child and dinnae ye ever doubt it. Howbeit, this is something that must be decided between ye and your father.”

Walin stood up straight and nodded. “Aye. Mon to mon.”

“Exactly.”

Morainn just hoped that somewhere in that man-to-man talk they remembered her. It would kill her to lose Walin, too. Then she would truly be all alone.

It took three more days before Morainn felt she was strong enough to see to her own personal needs, even to do a little more needlework for Nora’s dowry chests. Each task still exhausted her more quickly than she liked, however. It would be, at best, a week or so before she would be able to return to her cottage and her chores.

She did not really want to leave. Tormand visited her several times a day, his kinsmen wandered in and out to talk, or play chess, and everyone took excellent care of her. She was being spoiled and she had to fight the allure of that. She also had to fight the urge to cling to Tormand until he tossed her aside as he had so many other lovers. Morainn knew it would do her heart, and her pride, no good to linger until all that was good between them soured with his rejection and dismissal. It would be best to leave with all of her sweet memories intact, inflicting the pain of loss upon herself before Tormand could do it.

And then there was Walin, she thought as she crawled into bed to rest yet again. The boy was torn between his delight over having a father who welcomed him and a large family who did the same, and her. She and Tormand had agreed to let Walin think it all over for a while, but she knew Tormand wanted the boy. Morainn also knew that no one would take her side over Tormand’s, even if Walin was not what most considered a legitimate son.

With each tale told her of the time Walin spent with the Murrays, each time the boy said the word father, Morainn felt sadder. She was losing the boy; she was certain of it. When Nora visited, Morainn could tell by the look on her friend’s face whenever they spoke of Walin, that Nora was certain of it too.

There was a soft knock at the door and Morainn told the person to enter. She was at first foolishly delighted to see Tormand, but then she noticed how serious he looked. Had Walin made his choice?

Page 135

ABC Amber Text Merger Trial v
ersion, http://www.processtext.com/abcmerge.html

“There is someone here to see you,” Tormand said.

“Who could it be that ye feel the need to announce them this way?” she asked. “Someone I dinnae ken?”

“Weel, ye ken who he is, but ye have never really dealt with the mon. He has come round here several times since ye were hurt, but I have held him back. I wanted ye to be stronger ere ye spoke with him.”

“Why?”

“Because he feared the news that ye have a brother would be too much for ye to bear.”

Morainn stared at the man who stood in the doorway. Even though she had only met him once, briefly, ten years ago, Sir Adam Kerr, laird of Dubhstane, was not a man one easily forgot. He was tall, several inches over six feet, broad-shouldered, yet lean of build and about as breathtakingly handsome as Tormand was. Sir Kerr had blue eyes and thick, long black hair. He also had a beautiful mouth, the lower lip fuller than the top one. The mouth of a skilled seducer, she thought. His face was cut on lines that would make a sculptor weep with joy. Then she looked into his eyes again, heard his startling words race through her mind, and felt all the blood leave her head in a rush. Her last clear thought was—why did Sir Kerr have her eyes?

“I told ye she needed to be stronger,” said Tormand, as he rushed to Morainn’s side and began to chafe her wrists gently in an attempt to rouse her from her swoon.

“I suspicion she could have been as hale as she always has been and still taken the news hard,” said Adam, as he settled himself comfortably in the chair next to the bed.

“Why tell her now?”

“Because she has never been close to dying before,” he said quietly. “I suddenly realized she is nearly all the family I have left. Oh, my father scattered a few other bastards about the place, but none of them was verra long-lived. By the time I was able to help in any way, they were long dead and buried. Only Morainn was left.” Sir Kerr smiled faintly. “My family has never bred with the proficiency of yours.” He looked back at Morainn. “She begins to stir, so, if ye would be so kind, I would like to speak to her alone.”

Tormand hesitated a moment, wanting to refuse, but then he left. When Sir Kerr had first arrived at Tormand’s door, just after Morainn had had her wounds tended to, he had nearly slammed the door in the man’s too handsome face. Jealousy over the man’s part in Morainn’s life had nearly choked him.

Then he had glimpsed the amusement in the man’s eyes, eyes exactly like Morainn’s, and had wrestled his jealousy into submission. An easy thing to do when he had suddenly admitted to himself that he had liked the fact that Morainn was alone in the world except for Walin, that the family they would make together would never suffer any competition for her affections or her attention. Sir Kerr announcing that he was going to tell Morainn the truth about their kinship had revealed that selfishness in Tormand and he decided it was only fair to resent the man for it.

Although he had finally allowed Sir Kerr to look in on Morainn a few times, he had adamantly refused to allow the man to speak to her. Tormand had felt that finding out that she had a brother would be a hard blow and she needed to be healed before Sir Kerr delivered it. Morainn fainting at the news only proved that he was right. Tormand then decided that it might still be too soon and he sat down at the head of the stairs. He was far enough away for Morainn and Kerr to talk privately without him hearing them, but near enough to hear if things got too heated or Morainn needed some help.

Page 136

ABC Amber Text Merger Trial v
ersion, http://www.processtext.com/abcmerge.html

Morainn woke to find Sir Kerr standing by her bed holding out a small tankard. With a murmur of thanks she took it, smelled that it was wine, and gulped it down. The heady brew quickly warmed her insides and she felt calmer as she handed the empty tankard back to Sir Kerr.

“Why?” she asked as she watched him set the tankard down and then sprawl in the chair pulled close to the side of her bed.

“Because my father was a randy old goat,” he drawled in reply.

She coughed to hide a sudden urge to laugh. “Nay, I mean why tell me now? Why wait for so long?”

“Ah, weel, whilst my father was alive, he didnae want me to do anything or have anything to do with his other offspring.”

“There are more?’

“Sad to say, there were, but ye are the only one who has survived. Once I was old enough to do something, I did, but the few still left didnae last long. Ill-fated lot. I tried to help your mother, but she wanted nothing to do with anyone named Kerr. She had her pride. I still watched over her.

Unfortunately, I wasnae here when the people of the town turned on her and cast ye out.”

“Pride. Aye, my mother had a lot of that.” She frowned. “So that is why ye let me have the use of the cottage and the land.”

He nodded. “My father was far too ill by then to ken what I was doing, but aware enough so that I couldnae claim ye outright and bring ye to Dubhstane. And,” he winked, “ye do make some verra fine mead.”

She smiled even though she felt a little uneasy. It was strange to suddenly have a brother, a blood relation. Morainn could not stop herself from feeling a little suspicious, however. Why would the man suddenly step off the cautious, secretive path he had walked so well until now?

“Ah, and now ye are suspicious,” he said, and nodded. “Good. So ye should be, but there is nay need.

Aside from a few cousins, mostly distant ones, ye are my only remaining blood kin. That truly didnae strike me until I heard that ye might be dying.”