“I was a young girl, happily spoiled by my parents and the servants,” she said. “I thought life was a joy and I was special. My husband taught me that was a lie.”
“Ye said he died after only a week.” Rory folded his arms. How much could she have suffered in a week with a feeble old man on death’s door? “I suppose ye had this elderly husband wrapped around your wee finger.”
“He was a strong and handsome young man.” Sybil fixed him with an unwavering gaze. “He was also an arrogant, unfeeling, selfish brute—both in and out of bed.”
Did Sybil lie to him now? His gut told him no. Her tale had the ring of truth.
“I can understand when a man must inflict harm on an enemy to protect himself or others,” she said. “But to take pleasure in being cruel and to do it simply because he can, well…”
Jesu.Rory rubbed his hands through his hair.“He hurt you?”
“After being sorely used and beaten by turns for a week,” she said, “I told him that if he ever touched me again, I would kill him.”
Where were the men of her family? In the Highlands, the lass’s family would come with their swords drawn. And if the bride was a member of the chieftain’s family, mistreating her could easily lead to a clan war.
“He laughed at my threat. Why wouldn’t he? I was just a weak, young girl.” Sybil turned to face him, and she had that determined look in her eyes. “But I would have killed him.”
Even at thirteen, she had expected to deal with a threat to her life on her own. His heart ached for that brave young lass.
“His horse threw him and broke his neck that very day,” she said. “That’s how God spared me from committing the sin of murder.”
Sybil was a survivor, and she did what she had to do.
Rory wished she had trusted him instead of deceiving him. He wished even more that she loved him. But if she was only trying to protect herself, he had judged harshly.
He started to reach for her hand when someone pounded on the door.
“Laird,” the man called through the door, “the men are ready to ride.”
“I must go now,” he told her. “But we’ll speak more when I return.”
Rory had much to think about, and the ride to Lovat’s and back would give him the time he needed.
CHAPTER 34
“How dare that weasel Hector of Gairloch call my sister a whore,” Lovat said as he paced in front of a giant portrait of himself. “I’ll tell the council this is an affront I’ll not tolerate.”
Rory was relieved Lovat was willing to go to the king’s council on his behalf, though Lovat was perhaps more motivated by the insult to Fraser honor than by his desire to see Rory’s claim to the chieftainship recognized by the crown.
“Of course, Hector can have no proof to support his despicable lie because there is none. No man knew my sister Agnes, before or after your father,” Lovat said. “But if you could find that papal bull, that would settle the matter for good.”
“If my mother had it at Killin, it was destroyed in the fire, and Alex has not been able to find the church’s record,” Rory said. “But I brought something else for ye to show to the council.”
Rory set the ledgers from Eilean Donan on the table. As Lovat looked through them, Rory explained the thievery Sybil had uncovered.
“These will be an enormous help in swaying the regent and council against Hector. As chieftains themselves, they will judge him most harshly for stealing from his laird,” Lovat said, which was exactly what Sybil had said. “Not only will I ask for a royal declaration that you are the rightful heir, but I’ll also petition for an order commanding Hector to relinquish Eilean Donan into your possession and to repay all that he’s stolen over the years.”
“I appreciate your going to Edinburgh to speak on my behalf,” Rory said as Lovat walked him out.
“Ye say it was Lady Sybil who uncovered the scheme?” Lovat said. “She’s a clever lass.”
“Aye.” Rory waited for Lovat to harp again about Sybil being the wrong wife for him. She may have won over Alex and Catriona, but Lovat was a cynical man of the world.
“I confess I made an error in judgment about your wife,” Lovat said with a smile. “She’ll watch your back, that one will.”
Rory thought of the times she had stepped in to support him, even when he did not know he needed the help, as with the Munro chieftain.
“Ach, what a queen she’d make,” Lovat said, shaking his head. “That lass understands the fine art of negotiation and how to gracefully apply the right pressure at the right time without engendering hard feelings.”
