The Pledge (27 page)

“I did not know that the MacKay preferred men to women and would put her aside because of it.”

“Yes, ’Tis passing strange. Her cousin and I thought it important that we speed this nuptial to spare her lacerated nerves.
She suffered much being married to MacKay.”

“Yes, she must have. I was glad to see her retire to bed. ’Tis sad for a woman when she’s not wanted.”

“Yes,” Tarquin answered. “How kind of you to allow her to retreat to her bedchamber, Monseigneur. I’m sure
when I take her to wife her nerves will settle. Mayhap we may have a child this year.”

“Ah, that would be good for her.”

“I think so. Do have more wine. We are quite proud of this vintage.”

“Ah, thank you. Llywelyns and Trevelyans have vineyards across the sea, do they not? How kind of them to let you use them.”

“Yes,” Tarquin replied, eyeing the impatient Goll. “Perhaps you will allow me to show you our vineyards one day.”

“How kind. I have a love affair with Provence. Our monastery is there, you see.”

Goll moved away from the wall, but Tarquin waved him back.

It’d taken all Hugh’s strength not to push through the wall and slay the three who occupied the room. Morrigan wasn’t there!
She was his first order of importance. The fool thought he would touch her, take her to wife. For thinking such he’d die.

The scurrying of rats and other vermin that seemed to fill the tunnel halted him not one whit. The torch had flickered more
than once, but kept on burning. Wind whistled down the tunnel from the many openings caused by decay and neglect.

Then he stopped. He was at the top of the tunnel. Taking a deep breath, muttering a prayer to all the gods of
yore, and to the Savior, he pushed hard with his shoulder. Nothing!

“Try one of the bricks on either side of you, about head high. I recall this in one of my uncle’s holdings, though I’d never
expected it in Felim’s castle.”

Hugh recognized the voice as Cumhal’s. Though he still had his suspicions of Morrigan’s relative, he obeyed.

Again there was a very raucous, tooth-grinding squeaking, and a narrow door pushed open.

Hugh drew his dirk, having no room to pull his sword, and pushed into the room. Rolling to his feet, he whirled, gauging the
peril. No one—

“Hugh…”

The moan spun him toward the bed. She’d called him! When he was closer he saw that she’d made a sound, called to him, but
her eyes were closed. She was so very weak. “Morrigan! Look at me.”

She turned her head with great effort. She had to struggle to open her eyes. “Hugh! Am… I… dreaming… again?”

“No, love. I’m here.”

She tried to lift her hand. It fell back. “I… die.”

Hugh’s heart nearly burst in his chest. She’d been poisoned as his men had been? Could he get her to Diodura in time?

He turned to his men. “We don’t fight this day. We must get your lady to safety.”

Cumhal glanced at Morrigan, then at Hugh’s face. “I like it not. She won’t—”

“She will,” Hugh said through his teeth. “We must pass her down the tunnel. Get the horses. We ride for the sea.”

Cumhal hesitated, then went back into the tunnel.

Hugh looked around the room, noting the chalice near the bed. No doubt it carried the poison.

“God help me. She must be saved,” he muttered, then dove into the tunnel cuddling Morrigan. He didn’t want any to touch her,
but for speed, he had to pass her downward to his men. One MacKay remained to make sure the door was safely shut behind them.

Hugh hovered over her, each night sleeping with her held tight in his arms. Each day he rarely left her room, except to wash
and clothe himself.

Only once did he show himself down in the great room and only long enough to give instructions to Toric. Then he’d leave at
once and go back to his wife.

Cumhal had returned with them to Castle MacKay. He strode up and down the room, glancing at Hugh’s chief lieutenant. “What
plans do you make, Toric?”

Toric looked at Cumhal. “You expect too much if you wish our trust. Our lady could have died in that rubble called Castle
Druida. There were none to help her. Now you quiz me on what we’ll do.”

Cumhal flushed. “I can’t expect you to trust me, but I will stay here, and follow you into battle if I must. What was done
to Morrigan was done to me. If Califb was at
home where he should be, he would be summoning armies to right this wrong.”

“But he isn’t, is he?” Toric shot back. “Our lady has two brothers, Drcq and Califb. Neither protected her from the vermin.
Had she died we would have burned all of Wales, Cumhal. Believe that.”

Cumhal nodded, not trying to hide his bitterness. “I would’ve helped you, Toric MacKay.”

Toric nodded, though his visage didn’t lighten.

In the upper chamber, Hugh hovered as Dilla and Diodura changed her clothing again as they’d been doing on and off since he’d
brought her home three turns of the sun past. They’d risked heavy seas, and nearly killed their horses to get her back. Now
they would wait.

He leaned over the bed.

Diodura glared at him. “Move back, gomeril. You’re in the way.”

Dilla shook her head. “The witch presumes,” she muttered.

Norah, another MacKay, gasped. “None has ever called Hugh MacKay fool, in any language, including Gaelic.”

Dilla glared. “ ’Tis of no import.”

Norah winced, nodded, then went to gather the soiled linen.

Hugh took it in stride. “She doesn’t change.”

“She’s been poisoned, fool. What do you expect? Had not she the courage of Trevelyan and Llywelyn she would’ve died the first
day.”

Hugh had stopped wondering at the witch’s persistent mentionings of the family Trevelyan. As far as he knew his Morrigan wasn’t
even related to the family and was regent because the holding marched with her own. “I want her well.”

Dilla bit her lip. “I would comfort our laird in his anguish, but there are no words that could assuage.”

Andra, who stood with her, put his arm about her. “He’s lost a stone of weight with worry, ye’ ken.” He kissed his trembling
wife.

As though she felt him calling to her, Morrigan whispered his name.

Diodura cackled. “The herbs are working on her.”

Hugh dropped to his knees, pressing his face to the covering near his wife’s face. He’d never cried in his life, not even
when he’d once nearly been flogged to death by a captor as a young man. Now he could barely speak with the emotion that choked
him. “I’m here, beloved.”

Her eyes lifted as though they were weighted. She tried to smile. “I needed… you. Our babe—”

“The children are fine. And I’m here.” He looked up at Diodura, who was rubbing her hands together, and to Dilla, who was
holding her apron to her mouth, tears running from her eyes.

“Hold… me…” Her words were barely out of her mouth when Hugh scrambled into the bed and caught her close.

“You can never leave me again,” he told her, his voice torn with the worry that had weighed him down.

“No.”

Diodura backed away from the bed, turning to Dilla. “ ’Twill not be easy to speak to them of the babe, though I think Lady
Morrigan knew she carried.”

Dilla shook her head. “Have you told him?”

Diodura shook her head. “Soon.”

“God helped them before. He must now.”

“He will.” Diodura frowned. “But there are rough waters ahead.”

“How can that be? Our lady is back safe to us. We are protected here in Castle MacKay.”

Diodura released a long shuddering sigh. “I trust your sight is stronger than mine.”

Dilla stared after the witch when she shuffled away, her brow furrowed. “Andra, we will go. I would pray for them.”

Andra looked puzzled. “She is getting better.”

“The witch says there’s trouble ahead.”

“Och, no. They will prosper and have other bairns.”

“I will pray ’Tis so.” She glanced once into the bedchamber heated by a roaring fire, then closed the door. She shivered,
as though someone walked on her grave.

Hugh muttered love words into her ears, his hands caressing her, warming her. Though he was totally aroused by holding her,
his happiness was greater to have her safe in his arms again. It rocked him that even if they
were never intimate again, he would want her, need her, keep her. “When you are well, love, I shall take you to a small hut
on the cliffside. You’ll see the Orkneys and watch the wild water while I warm thee,” he said, in the ancient Icelandic tongue
of his mother.

When he leaned back to smile at her, her tears were there, though she was trying to fight them back. “Beloved! You’re in pain!”

“No, no.” She clutched him when he would’ve risen from their bed. “Don’t leave me. I’m not in the kind of pain that demands
Diodura or Dilla.” She inhaled a deep, ragged breath. “I need you.”

He moved beside her, gathering her close. “Tell me what hurts you so.”

“I think I lost our child when I was at Castle Druida. Dilla has not said, nor Diodura, but I sense it is so. What was given
me in Druida loosened our spawn from my womb, I’m sure. I will ask Diodura.”

Her breathy words speared him. Agony, such as he’d never known, filled him. More than once he’d been wounded in battle. No
laceration or contusion had pained as this did. His arms tightened. “Do you need attending now, beloved?”

She sighed. “I didn’t want you to leave me, but perhaps I need cleansing.” Since this was never done by any but women trained
to be attendants, Morrigan thought nothing of it when he rose from the bed.

Hugh went to the fire, pulling the pot toward him and pouring the steaming water into another flatter pot. Then
he collected clean swaddlings, and turned toward his wife again.

“You are hurt by my words, Hugh.” She tugged the tartan up to her chin.

Seeing the movement, eyes narrowing on her, he comprehended her restraint. “Beloved, we have lost a child. We will grieve.
But we have three other children who give us joy. Never ponder I could not think you the most perfect of wives, the most beloved
of mothers.” He edged back the tartan. “I see only a beautiful woman who shares my pain. Don’t shut me out of that.”

“No,” Morrigan answered, a tear running down toward her ear.

Hugh leaned down and caught it with his tongue. “Fret not, Morrigan. We have our two wonderful sons, Rhys and Conal. They’ll
grow strong and tall, and bring us much joy. Our beautiful daughter Avis will be the warmth of our lives and make us proud.”

“We could have more…” she began, then paused. “That angers you?”

“Not at you, beloved. We’ll not speak of having other children. You are ailing. ’Tis not necessary to have another child.
Three are more than enough.”

“But…” Her words trailed when he lifted her sleeping raiment and loosened the soiled wrappings. She watched him as he washed
her. “Your strokes are more than gentle, husband.”

“I revere you, wife. To touch you is an honor.”

“You warm me another way. Though I am fatigued, and my body sore and wrenched, my mind spent, my spirit wretched, my being
responds to you as it had on first sighting you.”

“Stop, wife, you’re seducing me.” He chuckled, though his hand tremored.

“Good. You’ve enthralled me, husband. It seems ages since our wedding, though it was mere turns of the moon. Yet, in my heart,
it’s as though I’ve always been with you, that we’ve traveled through many lives to be together.”

Hugh had lifted his head, his hand poised over her. “Wife, you warm me.”

“I… I have the feeling I’ve always known you.”

Pleased, he grinned, taking the soiled wrappings to the fire and tossing them in there. He stared down at his hands, colored
with her blood. Anger and sorrow shook him. “And so you have, beloved. Since you’ll be living with me for eons forward, we
shall discuss it fully.” He looked over his shoulder. “For now, I shall get into bed, and we’ll nap together.” He used hot
water and soap to lave himself.

“What if I should want more?”

“Though weakened from your ordeal, you cannot resist teasing me. For shame.”

“I’m most happy to be home.”

Hugh glowered at her. “You’ll not tempt me, woman. Behave yourself.” He slid in next to her, catching her close.

Morrigan put her hand on his chest. “Mayhap I already have tempted you. I feel the thunder. Here.” She poked him.

“Do you?” He let his mouth rove her face and hair. “To be truthful, you’re a sore trial to me.”

She laughed and wound her arms around his neck, stifling a wince at the pull from her middle and lower body.

Hugh kissed her over and over, trying to blot the anguish and fury from his mind. They had come at his Morrigan! For that
they would pay dearly.

Tarquin stared at Goll, his face mottled, ire and trepidation chasing across his features. He would like to be gone from Druida,
but Goll wouldn’t hear of it. Since Morrigan’s disappearance he’d been like a madman. “How could it happen?”

“Quiet! Do you think I’m not trying to figure it out?” Goll looked around the shabby great room draped in cobwebs, dirt everywhere.
Then he strode to the front door, pushing it open, the grating sound of it abrading the ears as it cast off slivers of wood
to the stone floor.

“What bothers you?” Tarquin inquired, his tone pitched too high. “We should leave this place. By this time messengers will
be on their way to Califb—”

“He’s in Egypt.”

“Well, Drcq and your brother Cumhal are not. If word goes out to your cousin Boyne of Hibernia, there could
be a bloodbath. Morrigan is a favorite of his. Boyne is not patient. In fact he is ferocious.”

Goll studied him. “You think I don’t know my cousin. I do. As for Califb and Drcq, I discount them. Neither cares for any
woman, including their sister. One dreams of the Land of the Dead, the other only of war and glory.” Goll’s mouth twisted.
“I’ll give both of them plenty of it when I take over Trevelyan.”

Tarquin’s face seemed to swell. “I was to take over Trevelyan. She is my wife according to our writ.” He frowned. “What does
it matter? She’s escaped.”