I need to find out what he’s hiding. And if he’s gonnae hurt Myrna, I need to end it.
Chapter Nineteen
The Funeral
It felt terribly strange to have a funeral without a body, much less four. Still, if this was what Eithne and her little sister needed, then Ivor was more than willing to play along. His own friends mostly had gone without a grand affair for their death – they had whiskey poured in their name and salt sprinkled where they were buried, but that was it.
For his late sister and brother-in-law, though, Laird MacDonnell was going all out. There were no bodies, so it would not be a kirkyard funeral; there was simply going to be a memorial for the lost, especially the Laird and Lady Kinnear, their son, and Eithne’s friend Neal.
Ivor and Eithne were alone in her room while they waited for it to start, the poor woman trying and failing to keep herself together. She’d told Ivor that she wanted to be strong for Myrna’s sake today, but he could see the agony just beneath the façade.
“Ye dinnae need to pretend to me,” he said gently. “Ye really dinnae. I ken how much pain ye’re in. The version I’ve been through was smaller, but I ken what it is to lose the ones ye love and who love ye in return.”
She laid her head against his chest, miserable, cuddling into him for warmth and comfort. He could feel her tears staining the front of his sark. “Do ye think they’ll still be able to go to heaven or the faerie world or wherever it is that spirits go when we die?” she asked.
He paused, then started to stroke her hair, offering what little gentleness he could. “I dinnae see why not,” he said. “From everything ye’ve told me, yer mam and da were good people, and yer friend Neal as well. As for Killian, well, we both ken that he had one of the kindest souls that the world has ever seen.”
Eithne smiled, but she still looked uncertain. “I dinnae ken. Their bodies…I dinnae even ken where they are. I dinnae…from what Myrna’s contact said, Rory MacDuff disposed of them as if they were waste from the kitchens.”
“Doesnae matter. Their souls are their souls,” Ivor said with conviction. “Besides, it’s almost better that way. There’s nae room for a woman at a graveside in a kirkyard. This way ye get to say goodbye properly.”
Eithne pulled back and nodded, tears in her eyes. “Ye’re right, of course,” she said, kissing his cheek gently. “Och. What am I gonnae do when I dinnae have ye to calm me down?”
Ivor’s heart broke at the vulnerability in her tone, but all he did was touch her cheek in gentle adoration. “What ye’ve always done,” he said. “Live. Flourish. Be happy.”
He could see her response in her eyes – how she didn’t want happiness without him, how she loved him, how he was her life now, and he begged her silently not to say it. To his eternal gratitude, she did not, instead just pressing her lips to his.
It was a gentle kiss, full of love, but without their usual passion. Ivor felt all of her love and all of her sorrow in that kiss, and he wondered if she felt the same mirrored from him. When they pulled apart, they rested their foreheads against each other, staring into one another’s eyes.
“I’ll try,” Eithne said at last. “I cannae promise ye much, but I promise ye that I’ll try me best.”
He tucked her hair behind her ear. “That’s all I can ask from ye,” he said gently, though he wished he could give her more. He wished he could give her the entire world.
* * *
The strange funeral passed in a blur. It was not a formal ceremony, but something halfway between that and a wake. Ivor felt awkward amongst the mourning family – the two sisters, wracked with grief, the strangely silent uncle, the two cousins, sons of Laird MacDonnell, who said very little at all.
Callum had wanted to come as well, but Ivor told him he should stay inside with Mossie. No doubt he spent the whole time running about the kitchens with his dog, bothering the cook as he played with her daughter Ellen, to whom he had obviously taken a shine. He was probably curled asleep somewhere now.
The only person other than Ivor not related to anyone involved in this strange goodbye was Jonah, Myrna’s friend whom Ivor found himself liking despite not really trusting him.
That’s nae saying much. I dinnae trust anybody.
Jonah looked even more awkward than Ivor felt, and no wonder. At least Ivor had the connection of Killian to bind him here. This boy had nothing but a few weeks of flirtation with the youngest of the bereaved. Ivor wasn’t even sure why Jonah was here, except that he imagined that Myrna had asked him.
The sisters had taken it in turns to talk about their parents. They’d spoken of their mother first, of her wit and beauty, of her cleverness. The Laird had added comments about their shared childhood and how he missed her when she left to marry Eithne’s father. Myrna spoke particularly of her mother’s bravery, taking over when Eithne got too overcome to continue.
“Eithne tells me that me mammy died in her arms,” Myrna said, her eyes shining but not yet overflowing. “Both of them, they could have been safe here – but Mammy, she wouldnae leave me faither’s side. They loved each other, truly and deeply, and she loved Clan Kinnear. She was everything a Laird’s wife should be and more.”
Myrna turned and touched Eithne’s shoulder. “I dinnae ken much, but I ken this – Eithne, Mammy would be so proud of ye for everything ye’ve done.”
Eithne burst into tears, and they fell into each other’s arms. There was a pause, then, to drink and remember.
Then the Kinnear women spoke of their father, of the Laird who had raised them and loved them. Myrna told stories of how he had taught her to walk, and Eithne told a tale about how he had caught her once with a bow and arrow after a secret lesson from Killian.
“‘Ye ken ye’re nae supposed to have that?’ he asked me,” Eithne said, laughing through her tears. “Och, I was terrified. Twelve years old and convinced he was gonnae lock me in a tower until I became a proper lady like I was supposed to be. I told him that I’d picked it up meself – I didnae want to get me brother into trouble. Me Faither didnae believe a word of it, of course.”
“What happened next?” Ivor prompted gently, seeing she was struggling to go on again.
