My Highland Lover (23 page)

“Open the window,” Trulie suggested. “Maybe some fresh air will help him.”

Coira moved across the room and tied the tapestry back with a rope of braided cloth. “Nothing will help him, mistress. He has the look of death about him.”

Trulie glanced down at Fearghal’s glassy-eyed stare and silently agreed. It was just a matter of time. Fearghal’s body was shutting down. She and Granny both had tried to heal him several times. But each time they surged the energy into Fearghal’s broken form, the power ricocheted right back out. Fearghal’s fate was set. He would soon reach the end of this life’s path.

“Well, then.” Trulie blew out a dismal sigh and pressed a damp cloth against Fearghal’s sallow cheek. “We can at least make sure what time he has left is as free of suffering as possible.” Trulie inhaled deeply, filling her lungs against the memory of Fearghal’s prison. If she’d been imprisoned in a stinking dark hole, she’d want all the fresh air she could get.

Coira stood at the end of the bed and frowned down at the wasted man. “It surely had t’be terrible trapped down there with such a girl.”

Trulie nodded. There were some things worse than death.

“He’s reaping what he sowed,” Granny observed from her chair beside the hearth. She lowered her sewing to her lap and peered at the girls over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses. “Coira, didn’t you say Beala was the girl Fearghal bullied into thinking if she didn’t give him what he wanted, he would have her kicked out of the keep?”

Coira nodded with a glance back at the emaciated man. She moved to a small stool beside a table filled with dark vials and bundles of dried herbs. The color deepened in her cheeks with the memory. “Aye. Beala was the maid.”

“Be that as it may,” Trulie interjected. “I think Fearghal has been punished enough. If we treat him badly now, then we are no better than he is.”

Granny scowled off into space for a moment before returning her attention to the embroidery in her lap. She licked the tips of finger and thumb, then smoothed them the length of the dark thread. Squinting as she twisted the end into a tiny knot, she finally spoke. “Well said, granddaughter.”

Trulie returned the rag to the bowl of lavender-scented water sitting beside the bed. She jerked around as the chamber door slammed open and bounced against the wall.

“Tamhas! Must you explode into the room? Our nerves are already shot because of the past few days.” Trulie pressed a hand against her chest, willing her pounding heart to calm down.

Tamhas arched a bushy brow and waved away Trulie’s reprimand. “Ready yerselves. Aileas has returned.”

This wasn’t going to be pleasant. Trulie smoothed her damp hands down the sides of her dress. Gray had sent for Aileas as soon as they had emerged from the tunnels. Who knew how much longer her son would last? A contented feeling of pride warmed Trulie and settled her nerves. Even though Gray despised Aileas, he would never deny her what would most likely be a last visit with her son. Gray was an honorable man.

“Did her carriage just get here or is she actually on her way up?” Trulie nervously glanced around the room. They had done their best to make Fearghal as comfortable as possible. Surely Aileas wouldn’t find fault with the room and make a bad situation even worse.

“What have ye done w’my son?” a nasal voice bellowed from the hallway.

Tamhas snorted out a disgusted grunt and glared at the door. “I believe tha’s yer answer.”

Lovely.
Trulie took a deep breath and faced the doorway.

Aileas blew into the room like a huffing black storm cloud. Her dark skirts shushed a warning as they shifted about her rotund form. In each of her fisted, masculine hands, she clutched fluttering squares of lace-covered linen. Her reddened cheeks paled to a lighter shade of pink when her gaze settled on what was left of her son.

“M’poor wee laddie.” Aileas stifled a sob with one bit of linen as she rushed to his side.

Fearghal didn’t respond. His slack-jawed stare remained fixed on the stone wall beside his bed.

With a shaking hand, Aileas smoothed a bent finger down the length of Fearghal’s sunken cheek. “What the hell ha’ they done to ye, laddie?” She wheezed in a shaking breath as she tucked his hair to one side. “I ne’er wouldha left without ye if I’d known. I thought…” Aileas’s voice quivered to a higher pitch as tears streamed down her face. “I thought ye’d gone on ahead as we planned. I thought ye’d a’ready left this accursed place.”

Trulie swallowed hard and sniffed against the tears stinging her eyes. No matter what Aileas had done, she was still a mother whose child was about to die.

“How did this happen?” Aileas choked out the words without taking her gaze from Fearghal’s face. “Who did this to m’wee laddie?”

Trulie glanced over at Granny and Coira standing beside the hearth. They shrugged in unison and nodded for Trulie to take the lead and explain.

Wonderful.
Trulie stood taller, clasped her hands behind her back, and eased toward Aileas. How in the world was she going to explain to Aileas that her son had bitten off more than he could chew when he decided to bully a mentally imbalanced maid into giving him sex?

“Well?” Aileas swiped a hand through the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Tell me. All of it.”

“Do you recall a servant named Beala?” Trulie waited a moment for Aileas to respond. The snuffling woman ignored her, just kept her hand pressed to her son’s cheek. Trulie cleared her throat and spoke louder. “I think she helped keep your rooms before she came to take care of ours.” Trulie moved closer. Maybe if she circled around where she could see Aileas’s face, the telling might be easier. Trulie wet her lips and cleared her throat. “She’s a small woman and walks with a strange rolling gait. Kind of blondish—”

“I ken who she is.” Aileas spit the words with such hatred Trulie jumped back a step. “What about her?” Aileas yanked the bedclothes back from Fearghal’s collapsed chest before Trulie could continue. “Surely, that worthless chit couldna do this to m’son.”

Where the crap was Gray when she needed him? Trulie cast a quick glance back at the door, wishing Gray would appear.

“Well?” Aileas hoisted her girth up from the edge of the bed and faced Trulie.

Trulie took a deep breath. There was no easy way to tell this, so she might as well jump in with both feet. “It appears Fearghal threatened to have Beala turned out if she didn’t sleep with him.” Trulie paused a second then blurted out the rest. “But evidently, after she gave in, in some weird twisted sort of way, Beala fell in love with Fearghal and wanted him to marry her because she was pregnant…or maybe she wanted them to get married before she got pregnant. I’m not sure about that part, but Fearghal must have refused…”
Dammit.
Could she sound any more idiotic?

The look of pure hatred on Aileas’s face ended Trulie’s babbling.

This was not going well at all. “Anyway,” Trulie continued. “We don’t know for sure how, but Beala must have lured Fearghal down to a hidden chamber.” Trulie glanced over at the dying man in the bed. “She succeeded in chaining him to the wall. And she kept him there with almost no food or water…for quite a while.”

All the color drained from Aileas’s face as tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped from her jowls. Spreading the squares of linen between her hands, she mopped the bits of cloth across her face. “Where is my son’s tormentor now?” she finally choked out as she blew her nose hard into the rag.

“We have her locked in a room where she can’t hurt herself…or anyone else.” Trulie forced herself not to cringe from Aileas’s sharp look.

“I would see her.” Aileas huffed and muttered under her breath as she plowed across the room. “Tell the MacKenna I would see his prisoner immediately.” She didn’t wait for Trulie’s response before flouncing from the room.

“Who are ye and why are ye here?” Gray barred the man from passing through the archway. He recognized him as the smithy’s helper—the man who had come to MacKenna keep along with the rest of Lady Aileas’s possessions. He wanted to hear what the man had to say. There were too damn many secrets in this keep and verra few people he trusted anymore.

“I am Gaedric.” The man respectfully tucked his chin and kept his gaze trained on the floor. “The Lady Aileas was and always will be the honored daughter of m’clan. I would…serve her.” The man shuffled uncomfortably and bobbed his head lower. “If the MacKenna sees fit for me to do so since she has returned.”

Gray studied the man. He seemed honest. Humble even. Gray admired loyalty, even to one as undeserving as Aileas. “The Lady Aileas will no’ be here long. And what of the smithy? Are ye no’ bound to him?” Gray was curious to hear how the man would explain leaving his current station.

The man shifted from side to side. His large hands nervously plucked at the tattered hem of his stained tunic. “I would serve the lady for as long as ye see fit. The smithy says I am free t’do so. He says he no longer has use for a cripple with few skills.”

Gray made a mental note to pay a visit to the smithy. Perhaps the coarse man of steel could use a lesson in compassion. Gray understood the smithy’s perspective, but there was ne’er a need to be cruel. “I ha’ no problem with ye servin’ the Lady Aileas while she abides here. But I must warn ye, after her son dies, she returns to her confinement.”

Gaedric flinched as though Gray had struck him. He glanced up with watery, bloodshot eyes filled with emotions Gray didn’t understand. “Her son will no’ get well?”

“Nay.” Gray turned and motioned for Gaedric to follow. “Come. Ye can join yer mistress once we have seen to her request to question her son’s murderer.”

Gray paused as he reached the first landing in the staircase. “Gaedric, come. Now, man.” Gray waited until Gaedric hesitantly moved forward and hefted his way up the first few steps.

Finally.
The man appeared to have decided it was proper to follow. Perhaps the smithy had not been so far from the mark in his summary of Gaedric.

Gray dreaded the chore set before him. Aileas wanted to see Beala and by rights as Fearghal’s mother, Gray couldna deny her. He scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes. Lore, he would be glad when all this was over. He hoped Aileas wished to take Fearghal’s body with her. In fact, he would suggest it. What better way to rid MacKenna keep of the wickedness Aileas and her son had stirred?

Trulie met him at the top of the stair. The love shining in her eyes was all that gave him strength. Gray held out a hand and felt the tension slip away as Trulie slid her hand into his. Blessed be Tamhas and Granny Sinclair for bringing this woman to him.

“Fearghal will be gone by sunset,” Trulie whispered. “Death rattles in his lungs.”

“Aye.” Gray sucked in a deep breath as he tucked Trulie’s arm against his side. What else could he say? No love or even basic respect had ever existed between himself and Fearghal. He regretted the coward had suffered such an end. But from what he gathered, Fearghal had chosen his destiny by his actions. Gray believed in accountability for choices made and Fearghal’s situation confirmed that conviction.

“Who is that?” Trulie whispered with a glance down the staircase.

“Aileas’s most loyal servant.” Gray actually felt sorry for the woman who had cursed him with so many unpleasant hours. “He will more than likely join her retinue when she returns to sanctuary.”

“The chieftain has stated I may question the prisoner.” Aileas’s loud, unpleasant voice boomed down the corridor.

Gray sucked in another deep breath as they rounded the corner. Lore, he felt as though he walked toward his own end. Two burly warriors barred Aileas from the room where they had placed Beala. They stood broad shoulder to broad shoulder with arms crossed and eyes fixed straight ahead.

Aileas waited with fists clenched just below her sagging bosom. Her expression soured even further when her gaze fell first on Trulie and then on Gaedric. She jerked her chin toward them. “Those two have no right here.”

Gray halted and slid his other hand atop Trulie’s where she held on to his arm. “My betrothed has every right because I say it is so.” He glared at red-faced Aileas, daring her to argue.

Aileas motioned toward Gaedric with a flip of her hand. “And him? He has no duty here.”

“On the contrary,” Gray replied. “Gaedric has sworn fealty to ye and yer father’s clan. Ye should be honored by his presence.”

Aileas huffed a disgusted breath as she whirled back and faced the stoic guards. “I have no time for such. Now, do ye mean to allow me to pass or no’?”

Gray motioned to the guard on the left. “Open the door.”

As the door swung open, Beala hopped down from the wide stone seat located below the room’s high, narrow window. Her thin hands fluttered nervously up and down the wrinkled folds of her plain linen shift.

When Gray bent and entered the room, Beala’s sunken eyes rounded even wider in her pale, drawn face. Her bare feet slapped against the floor as she skittered to the farthest corner with her odd hitching run. “Ye must no’ touch me. Fearghal is m’husband!”

“Lying bitch!” Aileas roared as she exploded into the room. Gray grabbed her arm and held her back as she strained to reach the girl.

“Get behind me,” Gray hissed to Trulie.

Gaedric limped his way into the room after them. The agitated man looked around, then moved to stand beside Gray. “Yer woman will be safe behind us.”

“Leave hold a my arm.” Aileas twisted against Gray’s grasp. “Leave hold a me now.”

“I said ye could come and question the girl. I ne’er gave permission to attack her.” Gray yanked Aileas back and brought his face close to hers. “If ye move to harm her again I shall have the guards remove ye.”

Aileas’s bloodshot eyes narrowed as her gaze darted first to Gray, then toward the corner where Beala cowered. “Agreed,” she finally said.

Gray forced himself not to recoil. For the thousandth time since he had known Aileas, he wondered how the hell his father had ever married such a vile woman. He released her arm and eased back a step. “Ye may question the woman. That is all.”

Aileas jerked the wrinkles from her sleeve and smoothed her thick hands down her skirts. She straightened her broad, rounded shoulders and walked slowly toward Beala.