“I am sure he will as soon as he is weel.”
Bethoc sat beside him until he was asleep. She did not know what to do. Her father had put them all at risk. The men little Cathan feared could well come after her father. If they came to this house, all of them would be in danger, and these men had shown no hesitation to kill to get what they wanted. She could not believe he would be so foolish. He had to have not known what trouble followed the boy although she could not feel confident about that. Her father often thought himself invincible because of his cleverness.
What had she got herself in the middle of? The minute she thought that, she sighed. All she had done was help someone in trouble and she could not see herself doing anything differently. She could not have left him to drown, or to just lie on the shore unable to move. A soft noise at her side pulled her from her thoughts and she turned to see Bean and Colin flanking her.
“Ye ken this Callum he asks for,” said Bean as he sat down.
For a moment she thought about lying, then grimaced. They had closely heard what was said. They were also at risk. It was only fair that she let them know. If nothing else, they should be prepared for the possible arrival of bad men.
“I ken who he is, aye,” Bethoc said quietly.
“How? And how do ye ken he is hurt?” Colin asked.
“Because I found him. He was barely on the riverbank, half in the water, half out. And his leg was broken. He had also been severely beaten before being tossed in the river to drown.”
Cathan had also been beaten, she thought. If those men came to the house looking for Cathan she did not want to think what they might do to her boys. How could her father have put them all in such danger? She was certain he had some grand scheme to make money but he was ignoring the danger he risked, a risk they now all shared.
“Are ye going to take the laddie to him?” Bean asked.
“Nay yet. It wouldnae do to suddenly have him go missing. Yet he must go soon. I think these men he speaks of would be a great deal of trouble for us.” She idly tucked the covers more firmly around the sleeping child. “They were harsh in their handling of him, leaving bruises, and appear to be after some inheritance he has come into. They nearly killed a mon over it. They have already killed his father and frightened his mother into running off. What will they do to us? Nay, I need to be verra careful in what I do next.”
“Dinnae forget us,” said Colin. “We can help.”
“I dinnae wish to tangle ye up in this problem,” Bethoc said.
“I think we are tangled up in it now. Father brought the lad here and I think he kenned he wasnae one like us, alone or with no one who would care much if he went missing. Men after the lad dinnae ken that, do they? They may see us and think we are part of it all or ken more than we do. Seems to me they would be seeing us as a means to make Da do what they want.”
She wanted to tell him he was wrong but feared he was not. Colin was too clever not to have seen the risk this boy brought with him. Bethoc was reeling from the truths she had learned about her father in the last day. She was having difficulty thinking of any plan, any clear direction to take.
“I wish I had the courage to just demand some answers from the mon,” she muttered, and was surprised when Bean patted her on the back.
“Best thing is to speak as little as possible and ne’er ask questions,” he said. “’Tis how we all deal with the mon. I think ye need to talk to that fellow Callum. It would help to ken who the men are and how badly they want the boy. If they were willing to kill the mon with him, I suspicion they want the boy verra badly indeed.”
“True.” She sighed and stood up. “I need to get some sleep and shouldnae leave Margaret alone any longer. It would be best if I sleep on it, decide what to do on the morrow.” She looked at Bean and Colin. “And I thank ye for standing for me at supper.”
“Time he ceased beating on you,” Bean said. “Does it too often and has gotten fierce in the doing of it. Kicking ye like that. He could have broken something.”
She was rather surprised that he had not, but simply patted both boys on the shoulder and went down the stairs. Leaving a small lamp lit for her father, she got ready for bed. She had a tiny alcove and needed to share it with her sister. Slipping in as gently as she could so as not to wake her sister, she tucked the child up against her. Then she reached out to unhook the material that hung over the opening and let it fall, enclosing them both in darkness.
Bed was a hiding place. It was just not very secure. Her father had yanked her out of it before. When he was out she would sleep but she always woke when he came back, snapping into full alertness at the sound of the door opening. Then she would lie still, listening as he moved around the room. Just lately he had taken to stopping right outside her alcove and standing there for several minutes. She could feel his stare and it terrified her.
Bethoc had the sick feeling her father was slowly ceasing to think of her as a daughter, one he had openly said was not his, and think of her only as a woman. She feared the night he would take that final step in his thoughts. Tonight, however, his steps indicated he was well into his cups as he came into the house and stumbled his way to his bed. She doubted he had even bothered to take off his clothes. For a long time, there was no sound of movement and then she heard him start to snore.
Little by little she allowed her muscles to relax, surprised at how tense she had grown. He had left the light on. That, too, was becoming common even though it was both wasteful and dangerous. She sighed and, after a moment, slipped out of bed to put out the light.
The man had not even turned his covers down or removed his shoes. He looked as if he had just collapsed on the bed, falling asleep even as he fell. The smell of ale and sweat coming from him was powerful. Even if he had not turned down the covers she was going to have to wash all the linen just to be rid of that smell.
Drink had aged him, she realized. Drink and anger. The lines on his face were many and deep. Bethoc had to wonder what had happened to make him see the world through such a dark veil of disappointment. He always felt cheated somehow, that he was deserving of something greater and had been denied it by fate. She shook her head, snuffed the light, and crawled back into bed. There was nothing to be done to change the man now.
Margaret cuddled up against her, taking her braid and pressing it against her face. Bethoc smiled and patted her back. The children were why she was still at home. Without them, she was sure she would have run after the first beating or when her mother had died for that was when Kerr Matheson’s temper had grown out of control. It had become the kind of anger that ignited without warning or even reason.
And why was she still calling him her father? she asked herself crossly. He was not. She knew it for a fact now. Her mother had told her the name of the man who had sired her. It was, perhaps, past time she went looking for the man. Fate could not be so unkind to give her a real father as bad as the one she had now. He might not want anything to do with her, but he could bestir himself enough to find her a safe place—her, Margaret, and the lads.
With that decided, she fought to clear her mind when the drape hiding her bed was thrust aside. She felt panic swell then ebb as she saw, faintly, the shapes of two boys. A moment later, her eyes adjusted to the faint light in the house and she saw Colin holding the hand of a silently weeping Cathan.
“What is wrong?” she asked, and reached for the child who threw himself against her and clung tightly.
“He wouldnae cease weeping.” Colin sighed and rubbed his eyes. “It was keeping us all awake.”
