Saoirse nodded. “What did they mean they ken things?”
“I dinna ken. Mayhap things they remember that I dinna. Things that would hurt ye and embarrass ye.”
“Or mayhap they ken something aboot the mint and who tried to hurt ye.”
“I doubt it.”
“But they might. I want to ask.”
“Saoirse, stay away from them. Naught good will come of it. They’ll be spiteful and cruel.”
“I dinna care. If there’s a chance they ken why someone tried to kill ye, then I want to hear it.” Saoirse stuck out her hand. Magnus didn’t hesitate to take it, but he was in no hurry to walk back to the tavern. “Leslie, Amy, I want to talk to ye.”
“Hello, Lady Saoirse.” The two women dipped into pathetic pantomimes of curtsies. Magnus glowered at them over Saoirse’s head, making the women show a more appropriate level of respect.
“What did ye mean that ye ken things? What things? Were ye talking aboot how ye tupped ma betrothed? Or was it something more important?” Saoirse kept her voice light, pretending that the notion of Magnus bedding either of the women didn’t bother her.
“We remember plenty aboot Óg. If things dinna work out, ye ken where to find us.” Leslie, the blonde, winked. But she shrank back at Magnus’s withering glare. Amy, the brunette, opted to be more circumspect.
“One vendor said that ye were chasing Lady Saoirse’s skirts because the Mackenzies canna scrape two coins together. And since yer betrothal fell apart, ye need a Sinclair dowry. He said ye’re marrying Lady Saoirse for her money.”
Saoirse laughed. Magnus didn’t expect that reaction. She looked up at Magnus over her shoulder before looking at the women. “Óg doesnae need to marry me or any other Sinclair to get money if that’s what he needed. The laird would give it freely, and we all ken it.”
“Then why else would he marry ye?” Leslie appeared genuinely baffled.
“Enough. Since ye like to nashgab with whomever will listen, ye can share this piece of gossip. I love Lady Saoirse. I dinna need her dowry, nor do I want it. I’m marrying ma bride because there is nay one bonnier or better than Lady Saoirse. The next person who has an opinion aboot ma marriage can come straight to me.”
“Wait.” Saoirse shook her head as Magnus tried to guide her away. “Who told ye that?”
Leslie pointed across her chest and to the right. “That one. The one selling the ribbons. He said he’d just come from Clan Macrae, and people were talking aboot it.”
Saoirse and Magnus looked at each other before Saoirse handed a coin to each woman. “Thank ye for telling us. Dinna make me regret ma generosity. And dinna think me the weakling most do. Just because I’m nae the loudest of the cousins doesnae mean I’m nae the stubbornest. Stay away from Óg. I dinna share ma mon with anyone. He will never stray, but I dinna trust ye nae to touch. Come near ma betrothed again, and I will tell every woman in this clan to keep their sons and brothers from darkening yer doorstep.”
Saoirse took Magnus’s hand as they walked toward the vendor who’d arrived from the Macraes.
“How could he ken aboot us? They’re several days' ride from here.” Magnus was having a tough time making sense of what he’d heard. At first, he’d thought it was his annoyance that distracted him. But his thoughts felt jumbled.
“Óg, ye were ill for four days. That was after ye were away hunting for a sennight and had already been here a fortnight. It’s been a moon since ye arrived. If anyone saw us the first few days ye were here, they would have enough gossip to spread.”
“I suppose.”
The couple stopped at the merchant’s stand. The man turned toward them, but his smile dropped when he recognized Magnus. “Hello, ma lady. What interests ye today?”
“The gossip ye’ve been spreading. What did ye hear aboot Óg and me while ye were with the Macraes?”
“Naught much, ma lady. I just ken Mackenzie broke his betrothal with the Matheson lass and was trailing after yer skirts—pardon me, that’s just what I heard—as soon as he arrived. That he’d found a bonnier and wealthier bride. Some said it was incestuous, but most thought that a hideous accusation. Everyone kens the only Sinclairs Mackenzie is related to are his sister and her weans. Ye two arenae related by blood.”
“Is this something many people are clishmaclavering over?” Saoirse couldn’t understand why anyone would take an interest in Óg or her.
“Enough for me to hear aboot it. But I was at Dingwall, so nae far from the laird’s home.”
“What of the Mathesons? What have they to say?” Magnus wondered.
“Dinna ken. Nay one mentioned them. People seemed more curious than aught else. From what I heard, ye were a lucky mon to get away from that witch. She’d have shriveled yer bollocks from what I’ve heard.”
“Thank ye.” Magnus paid the man for his information before he and Saoirse turned toward the keep. As they walked, Saoirse’s foot slid over a stone, and she tipped sideways. Magnus caught her with a grunt. She looked up at him, surprised. She wasn’t the lightest woman she knew, but neither did she weigh enough for him to notice. She watched him scratch his waist, his fingers slipping beneath his belt.
“What’s wrong?” Saoirse steered Magnus to her healing room as they entered the bailey.
