Highland Fire. Hannah Howell

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      “Why do ye persist?”

      It had to be a jest, and she found that a little painful. She had more or less resigned herself to spinsterhood, perhaps spending her days as nursemaid to Una’s children. Since no marriage had been arranged for her or even been discussed, she assumed that she had no dowry. That lack combined with her red hair, something many considered an unacceptable color if not a mark of the devil himself, made marriage an unattainable goal. And there was her “gift,” her healing touch, which she kept a close secret for it also stirred people’s fears. She doubted she could keep it a secret forever from her own husband. That fact made her believe that it was probably for the best if she remained a maid, to forgo marriage forever. Now this man continually teased her about it. It seemed somewhat cruel of him.

      “Ye dinnae even ken who I am,” she continued. “Our acquaintance is too short a one for ye to be talking about making it a permanent partnership. Not that your life looks to be a verra long one anyway.”

      “I should remind ye that I am not dead yet, lassie. I dinnae suppose ye would believe me if I told you that I was completely innocent, that I ne’er killed those men,” he said, pouring them each some of the wine.

      “If ye are innocent then why are ye condemned to hang? Aye, and by your verra own kinsmon? I heard what Cousin Bearnard said, and ye didnae deny a word of it.”

      “Just because I am condemned to hang doesnae mean I committed the crime. The carcasses of many an innocent mon have dangled from the gallows. I am certain of it. And as for being tried and convicted by my own kinsmon—what better way is there to be rid of the rightful heir to all that ye covet?”

      He sounded very sincere. There was a wealth of bitterness in his rich voice which only added veracity to his words. Moira wanted to believe him, but fought to cling tightly to her doubts and wariness. It was a very bad time for her to be too trusting.

      “Where were the rest of your kinsmen?” she asked. “Did they all believe this lie? Did none stand up in your defense?” She could see a pained look in his dark eyes, but refused to let sympathy temper or halt her questions. “Did no other stand as your advocate? Did none protest the sentence handed down or argue against the accusation?”

      “The answers to all of those questions must be aye, but a tempered aye. The mon who did this to me, my cousin Iver, has many a strong ally. I have some allies, too, but if they had openly come to my aid they would have harmed themselves more than they could e’er have helped me. They have neither the power nor the wealth to stand against Iver and his friends. I couldnae and cannae allow them to risk their verra lives for me. They did what little they could for me, which is why I was able to escape.”

      “Ye didnae stay free for verra long or ye would have reached Mungan Coll by now.” Moira heartily wished that his tale did not sound so very plausible, for it strongly tempted her to believe him.

      “True. I fell victim to a bonnie face that hid a black heart.”

      “A verra pretty way of saying that ye were caught because ye dallied instead of ran.”

      Tavig grinned. “Aye. A mon can be verra easily diverted by the glint of welcome in a lass’s eyes.” He reached across the table, gently clasping her hand. “Howbeit, ye willnae have to fear my wandering from the marriage bed. I am a mon who takes a vow verra seriously.”

      She snatched her hand out of his. “Ye are a mon whose wits are sadly addled.”

      “Such harsh words.”

      He looked so ridiculously mournful that Moira almost laughed, then caught herself. It was far from funny. If he was not taunting her because she was so clearly doomed to spinsterhood, then he was mad. There was no cause for laughter in either case. She told herself that she had to try harder to ignore his ridiculous talk of marriage. Since she now faced the enormous task of staying alive until she was back with her kinsmen, Moira told herse If that she must concentrate on that task and only that task.

      “Why did ye get onto our ship?”

      “As I was fleeing my cousin’s faithful lackeys, I heard that your ship was sailing to my cousin Mungan’s lands. ’Twas risky, but not as risky as staying where I was.” He gave her a small smile. “Ye dinnae believe me.”

      “I must think about it first.” She clasped her hands together, trying to effect a stern look. “Now, I think our time would be much better served if we discussed what we must do next.”

      “I told ye—we are going to my cousin Mungan’s keep.” He picked up her dishes as well as his own and moved toward a pan of water.

      As he started to wash the dishes, Moira briefly contemplated taking over that chore since he had prepared the meal. She knew it was not completely fair to allow him to do all the work, but she did blame him somewhat for the dire circumstances she found herself in. It would serve as a penance of sorts if he had to wait upon her a little bit.

      She watched him, idly wondering how he could look so good when he was in such a disreputable state. His clothing was ragged and stained. His thick black hair was tousled and stiffened from the salt water they had floundered in for so long. She could also see bruises and swelling upon his face as well as on the patches of skin peeking through his ragged clothes. Some of those marks could have been caused by the rough treatment of the stormy waves, but she suspected most of his wounds were suffered in his battle with Sir Bearnard. When she began to think rather tenderly of nursing his many injuries, she was startled and a little appalled. The man had not only plunged her life into chaos, but also he was starting to have an alarming effect upon her good sense. Moira forced her errant musings back to the matter of what they needed to do next. That was far more important than how smooth his dark skin was or how well shaped his long legs were.

      “Sir Tavig, I hadnae forgotten that ye planned to take us to Mungan Coll’s,” she hurried to say, hoping that by talking she could clear her mind of all thoughts save how to get to safety.

      “Then what else do ye need to be told?”

      “How do we get there? We are ragged, without horses and without supplies.”

      “Verra true.” He wiped his hands on a dingy rag and sat back down at the table. “I think we can find enough here to start us on our way.”

      “That would be stealing.”

      “Lass, the mon who used to abide here is dead, I am fair certain of that. And if by some odd miracle he isnae, then he has fled this place without a thought to what is here. Cease fretting o’er the right and wrong of it all. Whatever happened to the mon, he left everything here to rot or to be taken, and we have a sore need for what little he may have left behind.”

      “I can understand the reasoning ye are using, and ’tis sound, yet it troubles me to take someone else’s things.”

      “If I had any coin I would leave it in payment, but ’twould only be stolen. To ease your acute conscience, I will swear to either return or have someone else come back here later. If the mon is still alive, he will be paid.”

      “’Tis verra kind of ye, but ye may not be able to return.”

      “Then ye can.”

      “I would, but I fear I have no coin.” She felt a mild blush СКАЧАТЬ