“Born that way,” said Manus. “Got it from his mama. The laird’s first wife was mad or sick or something. She would rage at time over nothing worth such anger and other times would weep and wail as if she was watching her bairn die. There were times when she was fine though and could be the sweetest lass. That’s when the laird fell in love with her and wed her. Then she had Robert. As a bairn, Robert was much like any other. The laird himself took over the bairn’s care with the help of some of the women here because his wife tried to smother her child during one of her weepy spells. She killed herself a few weeks later. It wasnae until Robert got older that one began to notice that something was not quite right with the lad. Robert was mean, bone-deep mean.
“Laird married again and the lass was fine, except that she hadnae wanted to wed him. She had Duncan and Lachlan and she was good enough as a mother but ’twas certain she didnae want to be one to Robert. She died in a fall from her horse. It was whispered about that it happened as she had been riding back from her lover’s arms.
“Then we had Murdoch’s mither. Sweet, sweet girl, a lot younger than the laird, scared of everything, but tried hard to be a mother to the laird’s boys. Then she had Murdoch. She adored that child, played with him all the time but ne’er ignored the other lads. Laird was real fond of her. Murdoch had his mother the longest, too, right up until he was walking and talking. Then the lass who wouldnae e’en stroll by the burn she was so afraid of the moving water, went to the burn and drowned. Robert was the only witness to it.”
“What a sad life my uncle has had,” murmured Mora. “So, Robert killed more than Murdoch’s pet, didnae he? He killed the poor lad’s mither.”
“Aye, I think he did,” said Hilda. “Near the end she was afraid of him and kept him away from Murdoch.”
“I dinnae understand why the brothers dinnae unite against him.”
“I have been here all my life, lass, and I have seen how Robert keeps them down,” said Manus. “Ridding the keep of anyone or anything they love. Just as he did with Murdoch. Then he showed them how easily he can get to them when they are sleeping. He has ground Lachlan and Duncan beneath his boot since the day they were born. The only rebellion they have ever shown is how they try hard to defend Murdoch in some way. They are tugging on a wee scrap of bravery to do even that much.”
“It is a horrifying tale,” Mora whispered, then stiffened in shock when she saw who entered the keep next. “Gybbon,” she whispered, and took a step toward him only to feel Manus’s grip tighten on her arm.
Hilda turned, putting herself between Mora and the men at the door, probably to keep her from acting on seeing Gybbon, so Mora took a moment to collect herself. Just because Gybbon was here did not mean she would be freed. She caught the glimpse of a redhead over Hilda’s shoulder and smiled a little. It was Sigimor and he was holding the doors to the hall open for someone to go through. He was at least on a standing with her uncle, so there might be a bit of hope.
“Weel, I didnae expect such a fine answer to your letter, lass.” Hilda turned and smiled at Mora. “It is hopeful, aye.”
“Aye, but I am nay allowing it to be too hopeful. I think the disappointment would be more than I could bear and I am trying to look brave and calm.”
“That is probably wise. But, ne’er underestimate the Laird of Dubheidland.”
“Oh, I would ne’er be that foolish. I am verra sorry I have brought him this trouble, however.”
“I doubt he is bothered. If he was, he would have just sent ye on your way. The mon doesnae bother with all that politeness some folk do.”
Mora could not believe she could, but she laughed softly. “Ah, nay, he isnae. He has married a woman who kens how to deal with him verra weel indeed though.”
Hilda nodded. “The English lady. She has spirit. It showed when he brought her here to look at the laird and she said he was being poisoned. No one argued and have done all she told them to. Laird’s better, too.”
“If ye are done gossiping, ladies,” Manus said, “Jonathan is signaling us to go in.”
Mora looked toward the doors to the hall. Jonathan stood there angrily signaling them to come along. She did not know what he had to be angry about. She was the one who faced hanging for lies told by Robert.
“Does he expect me to run over there just to hear the laird condemn me?” she muttered.
“Probably.” Manus started walking and she hurried along with him. “Mon is so proud of his new station and fears any mistake will lose him the post.”
Mora took a deep breath to steady herself as they walked through the doors.
* * *
Sigimor reined in when the Ogilvy keep came into view. Harcourt and Gybbon reined in on either side of him and Mora’s brothers reined in beside Gybbon. “Sigimor, why are we just staring at the keep?”
“Weel, Gybbon, I think ye have kenned me long enough to ken I dinnae just storm a place. I have to think on it and plot the best approach.”
“I would wager that hurts. Why make your head ache before a battle?” drawled Harcourt.
Harcourt let out a quickly muffled yelp as he suddenly went flying out of the saddle. Gybbon was impressed. He had not seen Sigimor move, yet the small grin on the man’s face as he looked down at Harcourt was proof enough that he had done it. Mora’s brothers chuckled, but softly. Sigimor’s men laughed freely.
“Curse ye, Sigimor. I hate it when ye do that,” muttered Harcourt.
“Then ye should ken when to keep your clever remarks to yourself.”
“Ye must kick a lot of people out of the saddle,” he murmured, “because ye do inspire the remarks.”
“I did find that it had become a habit and I should be more careful when I suddenly saw my wife on the ground once and realized I had kicked her out of the saddle. She wasnae pleased with me. I even got down to help her up and she punched me in the face.” He sounded outraged.
