Highland Vow (11 page)

There had always been some belief in witches. Because of their healing skills, her mother and she had inspired not just a few whispers. But Elspeth had never confronted such a depth of belief before, the sort of belief that would cause people to brutally kill one of their own or put a tiny baby on a hill to die. She was shaking with the strength of her anger and disgust. There was absolutely no way she would ever leave this child in this village. Cormac would just have to understand that.

Cormac watched an older woman practically run away from Elspeth. She had almost the same expression on her round face as the widow had had after he had left her alone with Elspeth for a few moments. He looked back at Elspeth and frowned. It was hard to believe someone that sweet of face and that delicate of body could do or say anything that would so frighten someone. Yet it was obvious that Elspeth could and did.

As he drew nearer to Elspeth he noticed that she was standing tensely. By the time he reached her side, he could see that she was trembling faintly. Worried, he put his arm around her and studied her too pale face. When she met his gaze he realized she was furious. He also realized that she still held the child.

“Ye havenae found out who the mother is yet?” he asked.

“Oh, I ken now, after I forced someone to talk to me.”

“Aye, I saw her. ’Tis clear the conversation wasnae pleasant. She wasnae the
mother, was she?”

“Nay, she was probably one of the ones who lit the fire beneath the woman who was though. It seems the laddie’s mother was tried, convicted, and burned as a witch only a few days ago. I suppose one should be pleased that they were all merciful enough to hang the woman first. I but pray it killed her or so nearly did so that she wasnae sensible when they set her alight. Then they set this wee bairn out to die.”

“Jesu.” Cormac looked at the child and sighed. “What made them think that the woman was a witch?”

“Oh, a lot of things. She must have been beautiful from the way that evil woman described her. Verra fair. It seems she had the sin of a sharp tongue as weel. She claimed she had been seduced and left with child by a lordling who passed through here on his way to the king’s court, but she was always wild and immoral, so the righteous women of the village didnae believe that. Then she had this verra dark child with that birthmark. There is your proof that she consorted with the devil. She had to die so that the good women of this village could continue to be good women. And once the witch was dead, this spawn of the devil was set upon the hill so that he, too, would die. In my foolishness I have brought this great evil back into their village and threatened their pure, wee souls.”

He reached out and gently ruffled the child’s dark curls. “So I gather we add another stray to our number.”

“E’en if someone would take him, I cannae leave him here, Cormac. I cannae.”

“Nay, of course not. Come along. I have gotten us a room at the inn.”

“They may not let us in, carrying all this potent evil, for fear their milk will curdle in the jug.”

“In the temper ye are in, I dinnae think they will dare to refuse us,” Cormac drawled as he took her by the arm and started toward the inn, a place clearly established to serve those who were traveling to and from the court.

Although the innkeeper, his wife, and the maids did not refuse them, they crossed themselves whenever they drew near to the child. Elspeth had to bite her tongue to keep herself from threatening to break their fingers. When she and Cormac settled into their room, Elspeth fed the child some milky oatmeal and goat’s milk from a bladder a terrified maid had brought them. She used the time spent tending to the child’s needs to try to calm herself, and not solely because her mood could upset the child. Her anger was too great and was already making her head ache and her stomach churn. There was no one she could vent it on, so she needed to conquer it.

Cormac sat before a small fire, sipping his ale and watching Elspeth closely. This business had deeply upset her. He did not think it was because she had been so sheltered she did not realize such injustices occurred. It was, he suspected, hearing the murder of the child’s mother and even the attempted murder of the child justified so coldly by that woman. Since her mother and she were healers, they might have faced this sort of threat from time to time, which would add a chillingly personal touch to the sad tale. Fortunately, she and her mother had obviously not met such prejudices and superstition in this deadly a form.

He looked at the child again as Elspeth put clean changing cloths on the baby. A lordling on his way to the king’s court, the mother had claimed the father to be. Although that could include several hundred men, Cormac doubted many were so dark. Then again the lordling could easily have been some lowly apprentice in borrowed finery blessed
with a clever tongue.

Reluctantly, Cormac decided a concentrated search for the father would be foolish. He would recall all the important facts about the baby’s story, get a better, more fixed time of conception, and a more detailed description of the mother. All that, together with the child’s strikingly dark looks, would be enough. Anytime he came upon a man who had the look of the child he would relate the tale. If the child’s father was alive, he might eventually stumble across the man. If not, Cormac thought as he watched Elspeth cuddle the child, murmuring sweet nonsense to the boy, the lad had found himself a safe, loving haven.

“Did the woman give the child a name?” Cormac asked.

“Nay, yet the woman who bore him must have given him one so that he could be christened,” said Elspeth; then she sighed. “If he e’er was christened. The feelings against the mother may already have been too strong.”

“’Tis easy enough to discover.” Cormac finished his ale and stood up. “And there is still time left in the day to do so.”

“Mayhap we shouldnae stir things up, shouldnae remind these fools that the bairn is still alive and here with us.”

“Angel, do ye really think that fool woman ye threatened is hiding under her wee bed, silent and trembling? Mayhap trembling, but ne’er silent.”

“And who said I had threatened her?”

“Her face said it. It was just like the look upon that randy widow’s face.” He grinned when she blushed and refused to look at him. “And ye with such a sweet face.” He tsked and chuckled when she glared at him. “I think ye need to rest and I will go and ask a few hard questions.” Cormac kissed her on the forehead. “Ye are looking a wee bit pale.”

“I suspect I am,” Elspeth said as she settled herself on her back on the bed, placing the child securely at her side. Muddy curled up on the other side of the child. “’Twas the anger. It was so great I have given myself a headache and set my insides to churning. Each vile word that foolish woman said only added to it. I wanted to rip her tongue out for saying such evil things about a wee bairn.”

“Such a fierce defender of the weak ye are, my love. ’Tis strange the way Muddy found him and how he seems quite attached to the bairn already.”

“Weel, I think we have already had more than enough proof that Muddy isnae like most cats.”

“Aye.” He brushed a few stray wisps of hair off her face with his fingers and gently kissed her again. “Rest.” He winked. “Ye will need it, for I mean to take fierce advantage of having ye in a proper bed again.”

“There is a thought to sweeten my dreams. Just what do ye think to learn and why do ye wish to learn it?”

“We need to ken a name for the bairn and find out if he was christened. And I want a name and a better description of his mother. The time of his birth would also be helpful, for ’twould set a clearer time of conception, of when his sire did wander through the area.”

“Ye think a search should be made for his father.”

“Nay a hard search. The laddie has a home, hasnae he?”

“Aye,” Elspeth said, lightly stroking the child’s thick hair.

“But an eye should be kept open for the father. A wary eye. The wee lad has suffered enough. ’Tis good that he is too young to ken it. He does have a father, though, and he may be a good mon. There may e’en be a good reason he ne’er came back here. All I seek is the truth, and if we e’er see a mon who could be the lad’s father, then we can decide if the tale should be told to him.”

Elspeth nodded. “I understand. And if the lad comes of age and no one has yet stumbled upon his father, he may wish to search for him himself. Then we shall have something that could help him find the mon’s trail. My uncle Eric was set upon a hillside to die when he was but a newborn, and he was a youth of thirteen ere he kenned the full truth of his birth and a mon grown ere he was reunited with his mother’s kinsmen.” She smiled faintly at Cormac’s shock. “Aye, he isnae blood family, but he was raised a Murray until the truth was discovered, and he chose to stay a Murray. This lad will be a Murray, too. And unless he chooses elsewise, he can stay one. Go on then. I will rest, for I have an urge to take fierce advantage of ye in a bed as weel.”

Cormac laughed and kissed her before he left. Elspeth sighed and closed her eyes. She wondered if Cormac was aware of how often he had said
we
when he spoke of keeping an eye out for the child’s father. Elspeth did not let herself find too much reason to hope in what could be a mere slip of the tongue. It could also mean, however, that a part of Cormac already saw and accepted them as a pair, could see a future for them despite Lady Isabel. If that was true, Elspeth prayed that part of Cormac would hurry up and possess the whole of him, for Lady Isabel was not very far away.

She idly rubbed the child’s back as she waited for sleep to overtake her. It would be nice if the child had a father out there, somewhere, who would welcome him, love him, and see that he had a good life. She also knew how rarely that happened for a bastard. It pleased her that Cormac was not even suggesting a swift, intense search for that man. Such haste could lead to mistakes and misjudgments. If, at some time in the years ahead, the boy’s father was found, Elspeth wanted to be very sure he was a good man before she entrusted him with the life of this child.

Just as she started to fall asleep, Elspeth sensed she was being watched. It was so strong a feeling, it jerked her back into full awareness with an almost painful skip of her heart. Slowly, she opened her eyes and, for the first time in her life, almost fainted. Standing there by her bed, smiling coldly, was Sir Colin MacRae.

Cormac understood Elspeth’s anger even more now that he had spoken to some of the townspeople. To hear such viciousness spat out against a child of only a few months of age made the bile sting the back of his throat. Anne Seaton had been the bairn’s mother and she had obviously not made much effort to win the love and admiration of the people in the village. Beautiful and vain, she had definitely bedded one too many husbands. There may have been a fool or two who believed her a witch, who truly thought a dark babe born to such a fair mother was proof of evil. What most of the people had clearly decided was that it was a good way to be rid of someone they did not like, at least at first.

By the time they had lashed the woman to the pyre, Cormac suspected a large number of the villagers had begun to believe the talk of witchcraft. In their frenzy of fear and hate they had tried to rid the village of the child as well. They certainly were not going to claim elsewise now, not after killing the woman. Burning a witch was righteous justice. Murdering a woman who had been unlikable, killing her in such a brutal way, just because she could not keep her legs or her mouth closed or you wanted her gone, was not. Anne’s death was wrong, but at least it was now explained.

For the attempted murder of a tiny baby, however, there was no explanation. A child that young was incapable of evil. Some fools had even used the child’s sweet temper as proof of the devil’s stain. The young priest had gone along with the killing of Anne, and Cormac strongly suspected that was because the fool had lusted after her, but he had never openly agreed with what had been done to the child. Unfortunately, he was a coward and had not had the backbone to stand up to the villagers.

Only one person had seen the lordling Anne had claimed to be the babe’s father. A man as dark as the child, big, and very forbidding. Of course, the one who had seen him had been the poor fool caught rutting with Anne by this intimidating lordling. If the man had not been drinking heavily, Cormac doubted he would have confessed so much. The man had also been weighted down with guilt, for he had been away from the village when Anne was accused, then murdered, and his wife had been one of the ones screaming the loudest for Anne’s blood. Cormac suspected the man’s life was a living hell at the moment.

Stepping into the inn, Cormac frowned. There was a great deal of noise coming from upstairs, and a small crowd of the curious had gathered at the bottom. Recalling how everyone felt about the waif Elspeth had taken in, Cormac suddenly feared the noise was coming from his bedchamber. He pushed the onlookers out of the way and bolted up the stairs.

“What is going on here?” he demanded of the innkeeper, his wife, and the two maids standing in and near the open door of his and Elspeth’s room.

“Dorcas came to feed the bairn,” said the innkeeper, “and that beast wouldnae let her touch it.”

Cormac glanced at the plump, softly weeping maid, who held a hand over a badly scratched arm. “Why should she be coming to attend the bairn?”

“It was crying and your wife wasnae quieting it. It appears she has deserted you.”

A chill went down Cormac’s spine and he pushed his way into his room. Muddy stood next to the sniffling child on the bed. His fur was standing up, his battered ears were flattened, and he was growling, low and deep. There was no sign of Elspeth.

For just one moment, Cormac feared that the innkeeper was right, that Elspeth had deserted him. Then he shook his head, pushing away that illogical and disloyal thought. Elspeth would never leave the child or the cat. Her things were still in the room. The bed was badly mussed and a stool was tipped over. The window was wide open and he walked over to it. He glanced down but saw nothing, so he closed the window. While he had been out gathering a few answers, Sir Colin had stolen Elspeth.

“Did any of ye see who took my wife? Or were ye all too busy trying to protect your wee sad souls from a bairn to notice that one of your guests was being stolen away?” Cormac cautiously approached a still tensed Muddy.

“We saw no one,” snapped the innkeeper and his too plump wife nodded vigorously in agreement. “She has left you.”

“Nay, she was taken.” Gently stroking the cat, Cormac finally got it to calm down. “Elspeth would ne’er leave the child or her cat. E’en if I judge her wrong and she could do both, she would ne’er leave all of her things behind. There are also signs of a small struggle. Dorcas, ye were ready to tend to the child?”

“Aye, sir,” the maid answered, “but the cat wouldnae let me near him.”

“He will now. He had been frightened by what happened here. Come, Dorcas.”

“The cat doesnae like me, sir.”

“I swear to ye, he will now. He is calm and I shall introduce ye, marking ye as safe.”

It took several moments before he could coax Dorcas into patting Muddy. He ached to set out after Elspeth, but he knew he had to settle the care of the child first. After several more tries, he got Dorcas to touch the baby. She relaxed when Muddy just sat and watched her. The baby calmed under her touch and Cormac stood up, allowing her more room to tend to the child.

“Ye arenae afraid of this great, monstrous demon, are ye?” Cormac asked as Dorcas efficiently changed the baby’s rags.

“’Tis just a wee bairn,” Dorcas replied softly, casting a nervous glance at the three people still lurking in the doorway. “’Twas terrible what they tried to do, but I was too much of a coward to stop it or help.”

“’There wasnae much one lass could do against so many crying out for blood. When did the bairn start to cry?”

“An hour ago, mayhap less.”

“That was when Elspeth was taken then. I want ye to stay with the bairn.”

“Ye arenae going to run off and leave that devil’s spawn here,” said the innkeeper, his last word ending on a high squeak as Cormac grabbed him by the front of his jupon and lifted him slightly off his feet.

“I have had my fill of such foolish talk. ’Tis a bairn. A wee bairn.” He released the short, squat man so abruptly he stumbled back into his wife, nearly sending her sprawling onto the floor. “Dorcas will stay here and care for the child. If anything happens to him, I will hunt ye down and gut ye.”

“What if ye dinnae come back?” the innkeeper demanded, although his tone was more respectful. “We willnae take it.”

“I wouldnae think of giving him to ye or leaving him in this madhouse.” He tossed a few coins on the tiny table by the bed, glad now that he had swallowed his pride enough to ask Owen for a small loan. “If neither I nor my wife return, send the cat and the bairn
to Sir Balfour Murray and Lady Maldie at Donncoill. Tell them Elspeth wished the bairn fostered.” He strode toward them, nudging all three back into the hall and shutting the door behind him. “I am sure ye have work to do. Ye are nay longer needed here. I would advise ye to make sure Dorcas has all she needs.”

The moment they were gone, he hurried out of the inn and went to study the ground beneath Elspeth’s window. It was easy to see that she had been taken out of the room that way. Cormac could not see anything to mark Elspeth’s passing, but the footprints leading away from the window sank deeper than the ones leading to it, telling Cormac that the man had left there carrying something, and that something was probably Elspeth. He hurried away to get his horse, praying that Sir Colin continued to leave such a clear trail and that the light of the fading day remained strong enough for him to follow Sir Colin to where he would camp for the night.

“I cannae believe ye would threaten a bairn,” Elspeth said as Sir Colin dragged her off his horse and pushed her inside a small cottage. “And a cat!”

What Elspeth could not really believe was that, after all the running, the fighting, and the killing, Sir Colin had simply slipped into her room through a window and carried her off. She had just lain there, too stupid with shock and weariness to do any more than gape as his man had held a knife on the baby and a hissing Muddy. That stupidity had allowed him time to deliver one clean punch to her jaw, knocking her out cold. She had made it so easy for him, she thought crossly as she rubbed her throbbing jaw.

“It worked. Ye are here,” he said coldly as he lit a fire in the small fireplace.

“Cormac will come for me,” she said, sounding far more confident than she felt.

“Let him. I ache to kill the bastard.”

“Why are ye doing this?”

“Ye are mine.” He stood up and glared at her. “No woman tells me nay. Did ye really think I would just slink away like some whipped cur without avenging that insult?”

“What insult? Ye asked me to wed with you. I said nay and most pleasantly and kindly if I recall.”

“And just who do ye think ye are to tell me nay? Ye are almost twenty and still unwed. Ye come from a verra small clan. Ye have a wee dowry. Your mother is naught but some whore’s get. I honored ye by asking ye to be my wife.”

“Dinnae ye speak of my mither that way or I will gut ye like the pig ye are.”

Elspeth was not surprised when her cold insult earned her a brutal slap that caused her to fall on her backside. She had always sensed the cruelty in the man. It would be wise to guard her tongue, but she doubted she would be able to. It was hard to believe that all the deaths and turmoil were caused because this man was too vain to accept a nay. Considering all the insulting things he had just said about her and her family, she had to wonder why he had even asked her in the first place.

Cormac had to have discovered that she was gone by now, she thought as she considered her next move. She hoped he did not think that she had just deserted him. She also hoped that he would know that she had been taken from him and by whom. The questions were, would he come after her, and if he did, had Sir Colin left him a clear enough trail to follow? Then she sternly told herself not to be an idiot. Cormac would try his best to save her. He had vowed to keep her safe. Sadly, she knew just how tenaciously Cormac clung to any vow he had made. She could only pray that honoring this one would
not get him killed.

“I suppose young Cormac has had you,” Sir Colin said, his voice almost pleasant. “Even though he seems to spend his life running after that whore Lady Isabel, ye would be too sweet for him to resist. So has he had your maiden-head?”

Despite the almost friendly tone of his voice, instinct warned Elspeth that the truth would utterly enrage the man. There was a taut, waiting quality about him. He had leashed some emotion and she strongly suspected it was fury.

Standing up and brushing off her skirts, Elspeth replied haughtily, “I dinnae believe that is a proper question for a gentlemon to be asking a lady.”

“Oh, ye are good, wench.” Sir Colin briefly smiled, but his eyes remained hard and cold. “Ye can tell what a person thinks or feels, cannae ye? ’Tis one reason I want you. Such a skill would be invaluable to a mon seeking power, as I do.”

“I cannae tell such things,” she protested. “I but have a sense of strong emotions in a person. So do many people if they would but heed it.”

“What matter if it is a gift or just a good eye for a telltale twitch? Ye can tell right now that I am angry, verra, verra angry.”

“That takes no strange skill. Ye fair stink of it.”

Elspeth inwardly cursed when his faint smile told her her words had merely confirmed his belief. In a way, he was right. She could sense many things about people. Rarely could anyone successfully lie to her. Elspeth was not sure how she was able to tell such things, why she seemed so sensitive to the feelings of others no matter how well hidden they were, but she had accepted the strange skill a long time ago. She would not, however, allow Sir Colin to twist it to his own ill use.

“And why do ye suppose I am angry?” he asked almost idly. “Could it possibly be because my betrothed wife has been merrily rutting her way across the countryside with Sir Cormac Armstrong? An Armstrong, my love? And one of those particular Armstrongs?” He shook his head. “Rogues and thieves, the lot of them. And this particular Armstrong must be the saddest of that sad lot. Why, he is so ensorcelled by Lady Isabel, I doubt he can e’en get his rod stiff for another woman.”

“I would not ken a thing about that.” It was plain that Sir Colin was not believing her pose of a haughty innocent, but Elspeth decided it was far too late to change the game now.

“Of course not, but ye have tried to test it, havenae ye? After all, Sir Cormac is the braw knight of your maidenly dreams. The bonny laddie ye would think of in the dark of night to make yourself wet with longing.”

“How verra crude ye are. I am appalled at your utter lack of good manners.”

What truly appalled Elspeth was that he even knew that dark little secret, knew that she had longed for Cormac for years. Very few people knew about those dreams. There was obviously a weakness in Donncoill, some soft spot he had found and used to ferret out all kinds of information. It was probably one of the maids, seduced and thinking herself in love. Elspeth could sympathize, but as soon as she could, she would warn her family that someone at Donncoill was either foolishly free with the clan’s secrets or disloyal. And since this time it was one of her most closely guarded secrets, it was probably someone close to her, which made her both sad and angry.

“We shall make a fine pair, ye and I.” Sir Colin moved toward her. “Ye have a keen wit, lass. I shall only have to teach ye a few things.”

Elspeth tried to stay out of his reach without looking as if she was running away from him. “Oh, aye, things like lying, murder, theft, and how to smile sweetly as I slip a knife between a mon’s ribs.”

“Aye. I believe ye will prove to be most adept.”

His calm answer to her insult startled Elspeth so much she stumbled over a low stool. Colin was on her in an instant. The man was far more clever than she had thought him to be. He had seen how she tried to use his tendency to fly into a blind rage against him, and so he had unraveled that net, even managing to turn her game back on her.

Elspeth hit the floor so hard all the breath was knocked out of her. Despite that, she struggled to keep Sir Colin from pinning her down too completely. She also fought against being weakened by the knowledge that she could only delay him, not conquer him.