“I was a lad of seven when ye were brought into the castle to serve my father,” he told her in a voice meant only for her ears, but Constantine heard him. “Ye were a wee thing of two—” Wait! Constantine took another step forward.
“Hugh. Roderick MacDonald was yer father?”
“Aye,” Hugh confessed. “My mother was one of the servants there.” He looked at Constantine. “I wasna treated any better than any other serving boy.”
“How come I never knew this aboot ye?” Constantine asked him.
“Ye were a young lad when I came to live at Tor.”
“Hugh?”
They both turned to Ismay, sitting up straighter.
“Ye knew ’twas me who killed yer father,” she said quietly, with fear lacing her voice.
Constantine wanted to drag his steward outside and beat him senseless.
“My love,” Constantine said reassuringly. “Ye have nothin’ to fear. No one will ever harm ye again.”
“Aye, but they might try. We must train harder.”
Constantine didn’t want any more fighting but if anyone came for Ismay, he would kill them all. For now, though, he would love it if she grew strong enough again to train with him. “Aye, love.”
Hugh coughed into his hand and rolled his eyes heavenward until he got Ismay’s attention. “My kin didna see yer face. No one will tell them yer true name.”
Ismay shook her head and let Constantine take her hand when he came near. “Nae. I want everyone to know the truth. I willna hide my father’s name any longer. Whatever sins the MacPhersons committed before this had nothing to do with Lord John MacPherson, Baron of Raigmore. He rescued me from life in servitude to anunholy man and asked nothing in return.”
“I know my father was unholy and ruthless,” Hugh let her know. “He was void of compassion and demanded that his sons, bastards or not, followed his example. But my heart broke fer ye. In the beginning it did. Ye were whipped behind the legs often. I saw his gaze change when ye entered the hall carrying a jug of his ale.”
“Ye will stop there,” Constantine told him.
“I couldna help her,” Hugh went on. “I tried twice and was beaten.”
“Dinna tell it to me,” Constantine said, coolly. “Tell yer kin, and then be an example to them by pleadin’ her forgiveness fer lettin’ the bastard hurt her fer so long.”
Hugh nodded and then set his eyes on her. “I will live my life helping ye understand how I regret the past. I think I cared fer Gilbert and Constantine so much because I didna care fer ye enough.”
“Then ye dinna hate me fer killing yer father?” she asked quietly.
“Nae, lass. I often wanted to do it when he was mistreating my mother, but I was a coward. Ye have more courage than I.”
“Nae, I was terrified. I acted out of pure instinct to keep him away from me.”
Hugh lowered his gaze.
“There now,” Ismay comforted him! “’Twas a long time ago. Since then I have been rescued by two wonderful men, and I have developed friendships with others.”
Constantine marveled at her and soon asked his steward to leave so she could rest—and he could be alone with her.
“I dinna remember him,” she admitted to Constantine when Hugh left.
“He’s not memorable,” he teased lightly.
“If it were ye, I would never forget,” she told him. Smiling as he neared.
“Of course, ye wouldna,” was all he said and she giggled and lethim kiss her.
He would have more with her, but now she was recovering. He would let her sleep—but he didn’t leave her bedside.
