How did she feel, knowing the clan was watching her relationship with Cameron develop? “When Dougal MacBean was here, who were they rooting for?” She meant it as a jest, but the maid answered seriously.
“Sutherland, of course.”
Mary didn’t know how to respond. Even after Cameron left, and Dougal was here, the clan had seen which was the better man? How has she been so blind? Cameron was different, and the maid was right. He had returned when he didn’t have to. “I’m a fool.”
“Nay, Lady Mary,” the lass objected. “No’ a fool. Justsomeone who has been hurt before. Ye have a right to wonder.”
“Since when did ye become so wise?”
“Since I spent most of my life watching ye and yer sisters try to find yer happiness. Since I found my own. ’Tis never easy, but ’tis worth the struggle and all the doubts in the end. Ye will see. I wish I could say the same for yer poor father.”
“What do ye mean?”
“’Tis plain as the nose on yer face. That lass he married is carrying on with one of her guards. Everyone kens it.”
“Everyone but Da, I fear.”
“Aye, well, ’tis no’ my place to say, but I’m thinking he’d want to ken.”
Mary pressed her lips together and winced.
The maid nodded in sympathy. She followed Mary out of the building and patted her shoulder. “Now go on with ye. Find that handsome Sutherland of yers.” Then she turned back into the laundry.
Mary nodded and started back across the bailey. Out of nowhere, a horse charged right at her. Its hooves thundered on the straw-covered ground, kicking up tufts of dirt and grass. Mary froze for a second, then spun away and ran for the laundry door. Were the stables on fire? Were more horses coming?
It took her a second to realize she heard screaming. The horse had charged through the bailey and been stopped at the closed gates, rearing and screaming in distress.
Men ran toward it and fought to get it under control.
Mary’s maid bumped into her as she rushed out the door, attracted by the noise. “What’s happening?”
“I dinna ken. That horse nearly ran me down.” She pointed to the commotion by the wall.
“My lady! Are ye well?”
“I’m fine,” Mary replied. “Just a bit shaken up.” She realized silence had descended in the bailey. “At least the men have calmed the beast.” Mary left her and walked toward it.
One of the men pulled a sliver of wood the size of a small blade from the horse’s flank. Blood trickled down its hind leg. “From the stall?” the man asked the others with him. The horse shifted and rolled its eyes in distress. One of the stable lads took its head in both hands and talked to it softly, calming it.
“My lady,” one of the men said as he noticed her approach. “Are ye well? This beast nearly trampled ye.”
“It’s injured?”
“Aye. This was stuck in its flank.” He held up the triangular sliver of wood. Blood stained both sides of it. “I canna believe he did this to himself. This lad is usually as calm as can be in his stall.”
Mary took the piece of wood from him. “Could someone have stabbed him with it?” She turned it over in her hand, then hefted it. Thick enough not to break, it had a point sharp enough for that purpose.
“I suppose so, but why? Who would do such a thing to an animal?”
“Why, indeed,” Mary replied and tossed the offending piece of wood aside. “See that the horse gets good care. I dinna want his wound to fester.”
“Aye, milady.”
The stable lad led the animal away.
Mary watched it go as the others dispersed and her maid joined her.
“Are ye sure ye are well? Ye are pale as milk.”
