“Then let her do what she must for a wee while as we come up with a sound plan to go and get her and Andrew.”
“I will.” Mora just hoped she could hold to that and not let fear and worry make her break that vow.
* * *
“Damn. Someone is staying in the manor.” Gybbon rode a little closer, almost out of the trees. “I guess we will have to go on and find the cottage and hope it is empty.”
“Wait,” Mora said as the door opened and some man stepped out. “Who is that? He has red hair. Could he be a Cameron?”
“Not only Camerons have red hair, ye ken, but aye, that is Sigimor.” Gybbon nudged his horse forward and the man turned to stare at him.
“What are ye doing lurking about in my woods?” asked Sigimor as Gybbon rode up.
“Keeping this lass from being killed by her greed-maddened cousin.”
Mora leaned around Gybbon and smiled at Sigimor. Now she understood why her own family had so much red hair. He looked big and strong and was frowning at her.
“Weel, come on in and tell us what the trouble is.”
Gybbon put his horse away, then led Mora into the manor. He entered the hall where Sigimor and his wife sat at the table and a maid was finishing the laying out of food and drink. After greeting Jolene, and introducing Mora to both of them, he urged Mora to sit on the bench and then sat beside her. She set her bag down under the table and a moment later Freya appeared at her side.
“Ye brought a cat?” Sigimor said.
“This is Freya,” Mora said. “She is my cat. Do ye wish her away from here?”
“No, of course not,” said Jolene, ignoring her husband’s frown. “I love cats, especially little ones.”
“So why are ye running about my woods, Gybbon?” asked Sigimor. “I shouldnae have Murrays skipping through my woods.”
“I was bringing Mora here. Her parents told her to come to ye if there was trouble, and there was. Someone killed her parents as they were coming home from the market.”
Sigimor looked at Mora and asked, “Who were your parents, lass?”
“They were Rona and David Ogilvy.” She saw a brief flash of sadness touch his face and was both saddened by the news she had just given him and pleased he had remembered her parents.
“A shame, lass. Your mother was very prompt in replying to any question I wrote her about when I was raising my brothers and sister. She would have stayed to help me if I had asked even though she ne’er mentioned it, but there was great comfort in kenning I had someone I could ask who would answer promptly.”
“I think she knew that.”
“Who killed them?”
“My cousin Robert. His brothers ride with him, but I begin to think they havenae had anything to do with killing anyone.”
“Then why are they riding with him?”
“I think they ken he is mad and wish to keep him from doing something even a nearly dead laird’s son cannae escape harsh punishment for.”
“Is he mad?” Sigimor asked Gybbon, and Mora used the chance to help herself to some food, carefully cutting up a bit of meat for Freya.
“Such a pretty little cat,” said Jolene as she sat on the other side of the animal and gently stroked her fur.
“And the best warning bell I have e’er had,” said Gybbon.
“Warning bell?” asked Jolene, staring at the cat, who calmly kept eating.
“Aye, she lets us ken when anyone is approaching on horseback. She growls or hisses when someone is coming, looks in the direction they are coming from, too. We now ken she hisses when it is Mora’s cousins.”
“Why would she do that?” asked Sigimor as he watched the cat his wife was cooing over.
