20
Everyone in the dungeon looked at Morna, flabbergasted as her words hung in the air.
“Morna, what the blazes are you talking about?” Malcolm asked. “I had no daughter…not one that lived, at any rate.”
Morna gazed at him with haunted eyes. “Please forgive me for my transgressions, Malcolm, I beg you…”
“More lies!” Seamus’s voice was hoarse and panicked, his bloodshot eyes bulging from his sockets. “More trickery and treachery! We must pay this duplicitous witch no heed!”
“How do you know she lies, Seamus, when she has not yet had a chance to say what she means to?” Malcolm asked with a frown. “You have the look of guilt about you, Brother. I believe it would be best for us to hear her out.”
“You may stand around and listen to such senseless fairy tales if it pleases you,” Seamus growled, turning to leave, “but I do not intend to do any such thing!”
“Guards!” Malcolm bellowed. “Do not allow him to leave this dungeon until Morna has spoken her piece!”
The guards hesitated; they were accustomed to taking orders from Seamus, not the laird himself. But Malcolm’s authority was clear, and so they seized Seamus, though some among them murmured apologies as they did so, just so he would not hold their actions against them in case this ended up being some sort of grievous error.
Malcolm put a hand on Morna’s arm. “Tell me the meaning of your words, Morna, and speak true.”
“Your brother was envious of you,” she told him. “He wanted his own eldest child to be the scion of the MacLeods, not yours. That way, he would have greater control over the affairs of the clan going forward, and his child’s legacy would have been secured. He threatened me, Malcolm. He swore that he would see me tortured and murdered if I did not…” Her voice faltered briefly, and then she found the courage to continue. “If I did not find some way to ensure that your infant did not survive the birth.”
“I did no such damn thing!” Seamus protested. “I would never do that to the offspring of my brother, no matter what the prize at hand!”
“I could not bring myself to commit such a vile and depraved act,” Morna continued. “Bad enough, I could do nothing to save Kenna, but I would not compound that by shedding the blood of a wee bairn who had never done a thing to hurt anyone. So I smuggled her out of the castle that night. I left her in the field of Old Fergus the farmer, knowing that he would find her early the next morning…knowing that he was a lonely man with a kind heart, who would take good care of her and see that she was provided for. I kept a close eye on her from that day until the day she went into service in this very castle.” She looked at Malcolm and Margaret imploringly. “I am so terribly sorry that I kept the truth from both of you for so long. I only did it to keep the poor girl safe from Seamus. I hope that you can forgive me.”
“Ye evil bloody harridan!” Seamus roared. “I’ll teach ye not to slander me!”
Seamus broke free from the grip of the guards and lunged at Morna, producing a small dagger he had hidden in his belt. The blade glinted in the dim light of the torches.
Brodie stepped forward, and despite his injuries, he still found the strength to land a devastating blow on Seamus’s jaw, sending him sprawling to the stone floor.
“I owed you that, right enough,” Brodie commented smartly.
Tears filled Malcolm’s eyes. “My child…has been alive all these years?”
“Look at her face, her eyes,” Morna urged. “Surely you see how she resembles your late wife?”
“I do! Oh, I do!” Malcolm sobbed happily, throwing his arms around Margaret and holding her close to him. “Oh, my sweet child, I have spent all these years wishing that you had lived, and here you stand in front of me!”
She hugged him back as tears poured forth from her eyes as well. “All this time spent wondering who my father might have been…and we have been under the same roof! How can this be?”
“Because Morna has made it so,” Malcolm said, “and for that miracle, I shall be forever grateful.”
“What are we to do with Seamus?” one of the guards asked, gesturing to the unconscious man.
“He shall remain here,” Malcolm proclaimed. “In fact, he shall occupy the very same manacles that Margaret has been forced to wear. I cannot order the death of my own flesh and blood. Unlike Seamus, I am not that blackhearted. Still, he shall be imprisoned for the rest of his days. And as such, he has forfeited his right to choose who his daughter must marry. The honor of granting the blessing for such a union goes to me as laird.”
Isla’s eyes lit up. “Do you mean…”
The laird smiled at her. “This Andrew fellow is of noble enough birth, even if he is not destined to be a laird himself someday. Moreover, he seems to have a good heart. If you wish to wed him, you may do so.”
Margaret looked at Malcolm, her eyes wide. “This…means that I, too, am of noble birth, then, am I not?”
“So it would seem!” Brodie said brightly. “Making you a fine bride for me! That is, if your father consents?”
“I do, and may you both live in happiness and prosperity!” the laird replied. “As Seamus said, all has been prepared for today’s nuptials. Why not proceed with both unions, and conclude this day with the ultimate joy?”
Isla laughed, turning to Margaret. “Do you know what this means? We are cousins!”
