“Aye,but they will say nothing. Trust me in this, lass. Aye, Dougal may come tosuspect that something happened, but unless ye tell him the full tale, he willne’er hear it from us.”
“Iam grateful, and yet it somehow doesnae feel right to keep secrets from Dougal.He is my brother, but more important, for all his faults, he is my laird.” WhenNeil opened her mouth to argue, Sorcha held up her hand. “‘Tis best if secrecyis maintained howsomever. Dougal can have a hot temper and act withoutthinking. There is enough trouble between the Hays and the Kerrs. I certainlycaused my share of it. We dinnae need Dougal adding to it.”
“SweetMary, nay. That lad has a true skill for making good things bad, and bad thingsworse.” Neil winked at Sorcha. “For all that, ‘tis good to see the fool aliveand weel.”
“Aye,that it is. ‘Twould be even better if this taught him some much needed caution,but I have learned the hard lesson of hoping for something one cannae have.”
Neildraped her arm over Sorcha’s shoulders, briefly hugged her, and kissed the topof her head. “Dinnae completely lose the ability to hope, lass. That couldleave you with a cold, empty heart. Now, look there, Ronald returns.”
Sorchafrowned when she saw the serious look upon Ronald’s rough features as hecrouched beside her. “Are they still following us?” She spared one brief glancefor Dougal as he joined them.
“Nay.They have only just roused themselves from a heavy sleep and they will returnto England. The mon has some verra poor scouts with him. They passed withinreach of me time and time again, but told Sir Treacher we had all disappearedand they could find no sign of us.”
“Sohe has given up.” Sorcha started to breathe a sigh of relief only to have itcatch in her throat when Ronald shook his head.
“Hesimply returns to England. The mon is near to frothing at the mouth because yehave slipped out of his reach. He was cursing and threatening all his men withdire punishments for their failure. He means to seek ye out in the spring,lass, with more men and better skilled ones, too.”
“Weel,spring is many months away. There is more than enough time for the mon tochange his mind.” Sorcha could tell by the expressions on everyone’s faces thatthey did not believe it any more than she did.
Chapter Twelve
“Snow.Good,” Rosse grumbled as he stepped into the great hall at Gartmhor and shookthe icy damp from his clothes.
Ruarilooked up from the tankard of wine he had been morosely staring into. It wasnow late December, over three months since he had ridden away from Dunweare andSorcha Hay. The more difficult he found it to forget her, the angrier he got.Rosse’s terse announcement that winter had well and truly arrived in all itscold misery did not improve his dark mood at all, nor did he see anything goodabout it.
“Sincewhen have ye liked the snow?” he demanded as Rosse sprawled in the seat besidehim at the head table and helped himself to some wine.
“Sinceit means an end to the constant marching in and out of tittering, blushing,weak, and witless maids ye think ye wish to wed. At least now I can have a weerespite from watching the foolish lasses struggle to catch your eye when yearenae interested in them and ne’er will be.”
“Ineed to marry. I need to breed an heir.”
“Yedinnaeneedany of these children ye have inspected and weel ye ken it.Not one of these courtly bred bairns are really what ye want or need. Ye arejust too stubborn to admit it was a poorly conceived plan or to let go of youranger and poor wee bruised pride.”
Rossewas right, and that only annoyed Ruari more. He had planned his life carefully,right down to the sort of wife he needed, and he did not like the way it wasfailing so miserably. Rosse should be trying to help him instead of ridiculinghim.
“Isuppose ye would smile and forgive being taken for a fool, taken captive, andthen ransomed.”
“If‘twas done by a lass as bonnie as Sorcha Hay—aye.”
“Mayhap‘tis past time ye heard a few hard truths about that bonnie lass,” Ruari said.
“Idinnae think there is much ye can say that would prove bad about such asweet-faced lass. The bonniest brown eyes I have seen in many a year. Mayhapever.”
“Weel,aye, she does have verra fine eyes,” Ruari admitted. He would never admit toanyone that those eyes were what he had searched for in the long procession ofpossible wives that had wended its way through Gartmhor in the past few months.“I would ne’er try to claim that Sorcha Hay isnae bonnie, verra bonnie indeed.If ‘twas only a pretty face I sought in a wife, she would be admirably suited.Howbeit, everything else about her and her family is completelyunsuitable.”
Ruariproceeded to tell Rosse everything about the Hays, about Effie and her strangefancies, and all the aunts with their vagaries. He told him about the angryspirits, the curse they claimed to suffer under, and Sorcha’s belief that shecould see and speak to the spirits of ones who had died. Almost word for wordhe repeated Sorcha’s wild explanations for the things she did and the oddthings he had seen and heard. Ruari made it very clear that he did not believeany of it, but he was unsettled when he did not see the same disbeliefreflected in Rosse’s expression.
“Yedinnae believe all this foolishness? Do ye?” he finally demanded.
Rosseshrugged. “A lot of people believe in such things. Aye, ‘tis a wee bit odd thatso many in one family believe, but such unity might make me look closer.”
“Andjust how do ye think such ideas will be seen in court which, like it or not, Imust deal with?”
“Probablywith a lot less trouble than ye think. Even if ye still do not believe the lass’stales, ye came to acceptherbelief in them. Ye ceased to think she wasa madwoman, didnae ye?”
“Notcompletely,” he replied and wondered if he sounded as sullen to Rosse as he didto himself. “If Gartmhor is to continue to grow and prosper, I must wed with aneye to money, land, and position. Aye, a lass like Sorcha is weelborn, but herclan has little or no power. She has no money and no lands. There is also averra poor history amongst the Hays of producing sons.”
“Ifshe produces daughters like that strapping redheaded aunt of hers, it willnaematter.” Rosse met Ruari’s glare with a crooked smile, but then grew serious. “Weel,I still think ye are blinded in your search for a wife. Ye dinnae need thefaint-hearted, lack-witted females ye have been courting either. They couldhurt Gartmhor as weel, mayhap more than a poor, dowerless lass who speaks tospirits.”
