“I fear they may have, or will, but I truly dinnae ken, am trying verra hard to nay think on it. But, aye, ’tis a possibility. They want her to confess.”
“She willnae. She did naught.”
He ruffled the boy’s hair. “That I am sure of and it does make me fear for her. I do swear, if they have done her any true, hard injury, I will see that they pay for it.”
Chapter Ten
Bethoc groaned, opened her eyes, and then scrambled to the far corner of the cell where she was wretchedly ill. Still shaking, she moved away from the mess she left and slumped against the wall, fighting to breathe deeply and slowly until the waves of sickness passed. She had been tossed in with the gray lump of rags she had noticed while being dragged off by the sheriff.
The fear that had not left her since the sheriff had arrived at her house took a sharp leap upward. Had they thrown her in with a man? Bethoc could not believe the sheriff would put men and women together. Then she narrowed her eyes as she stared at the lump and began to relax. Something about the size and shape of the heap of rags told her it was a woman or a child. There was also a scrap of graying lace among the scraps of clothing. She prayed she was not imagining the faint movement that indicated breathing.
As she worked up the strength, and courage, to poke at the rags and satisfy her curiosity, she thought of Callum. A small voice in her head insisted he would find her and save her. Another voice, that of her common sense she suspected, said there was nothing he could do except work up a good defense, do his best to prove she was innocent. He was going to find that difficult to do when the sheriff was so certain she was guilty.
For a few moments she thought on how there might be a way to defend herself that she had not used yet. Saying she had not done it and pointing out how she simply could not have done it was not working for her. Then she sighed. Bethoc doubted the sheriff would care whatever proof or logic she presented him with. He wanted a killer and had decided she would do. The question was why he was so unable to be reasoned with.
The pile of rags shifted and Bethoc froze. Slowly it rose up and leaned against the wall. One small, delicate hand lifted to brush away the dirt and fabric covering the face. Bethoc found herself staring at a young woman who, despite her bruises, was stunning in her beauty, from her wide blue eyes to her full-lipped mouth. A bath, some decent clothes, and her wounds healed and the woman could make kings bow before her.
“Ah, William has tried drowning ye, has he? First time?”
“Aye.” Bethoc frowned. “He will try again?”
“Four times they dragged me down to that cursed barrel. Then they got brutal.”
In an attempt not to think about what “got brutal” might mean, Bethoc asked, “Who are ye? I am Bethoc Matheson.”
“Laurel MacKray. The sheriff thinks I killed my husband. Thought of it often enough but I couldnae do it. He was a nasty bastard but I am nay a killer. Who wants that sin on one’s soul? Didnae do it when he did get killed. But the sheriff willnae listen.”
“Nay. He willnae heed me, either. He thinks I killed Kerr Matheson, a mon many ken as my father.”
“Hates women he does, ye ken. The fairer the lass the more he hates her. If she speaks up, the hate for her grows. The only ones he hates more than women is the magistrate but he cannae beat or rape that mon, can he.”
Bethoc gasped. “The sheriff raped ye?”
“Him, William, and those two fools who trot after him everywhere.” Seeing the horror on Bethoc’s face, Laurel shrugged. “They dinnae ken who they are dealing with. My husband could do me more hurt even when he was sober.” She looked curiously at Bethoc who was still pale with shock. “That these things shock ye so badly tells me ye have lived a sheltered life. Aye?”
“Weel, aye, I rarely was allowed to leave the house, though that has changed a bit of late.”
“Ah, ye met a mon.” She gave a laugh that made Bethoc shiver. “Watch him. The bastards are verra good at hiding the monster within. My husband was wondrous handsome, all right, and his monster appeared a fortnight after our marriage. Fool in love, I was. Told myself he had just lost his temper, he would control it better in the future. He didnae. And, since someone killed him, I assume he showed some other lass his monster.”
“Nay, Callum isnae like that.”
“They all are.”
“Nay, he takes in the bairns, and occasionally their mothers who have been mistreated. Margaret adores him and she avoids men usually as our father was one to beat us, badly, from time to time. He didnae hit her but she saw him hitting the rest of us too often.”
“Margaret?” Laurel asked.
“My sister. She is but two years and some. Nearing three. My mother died bearing her and made me swear to never leave her.” Bethoc frowned. “This will be the first time I have been away. The lads will be there but I have ne’er left her and she may nay be able to understand. She must be scared.”
Laurel reached out and patted Bethoc’s hand. Bethoc was astounded that after all she had endured, the woman could still be kind, still sympathize with someone in any way. It was at that moment she decided that Callum would be asked to do what needed doing to set Laurel free and see it done.
“There is something verra wrong with all of this.”
“What do ye mean?” asked Laurel.
“The mon doesnae care about anything ye say. He has decided ye are guilty before he e’en hears what ye have to say. It makes no sense.”
“Ah, nay, it doesnae, but I dinnae think the why makes a lot of difference to us. Whatever moves the sheriff he decided we were guilty and that is all that matters.”
