Page 78 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
“Good morrow, Laird Everard.”
The man’s voice was deep-timbred, and well-bred. Mildred’s assessment appeared to be correct. Everard took a moment to scan the clothes the man wore. His great kilt was a fine woven wool in an unfamiliar plaid, but his boots were of polished black leather, his shirt made of silk under a waistcoat of black velvet. Across his shoulder he wore his kilt shawl with a gold brooch embossed wi’ a coat of arms. His grey hair was long, worn in a queue and tied at his nape with a black silk ribbon.
“Allow me tae introduce meself.”
Everard remembered his manners and before the man had introduced himself, he nodded toward the chair before the fire. “Please join me,” he said politely, although wishing the man anywhere but here, as he poured them each a dram of whisky.
“I am Dùghall MacKinnon, Laird of the MacKinnons of Pabhay.”
The glass almost slipped out of Everard’s hand and the whisky splashed. This was the man he’d sought. The man who held the key to a secret Everard was desperate to unravel.
Passing the full glass to MacKinnon, he took his seat beside him in front of the fire. He hauled in a deep breath, his eyes raking the man’s face for any hint of Davina. Mayhap those gold fleckedgreen eyes? Although his face was weathered, his lean features showed refinement, his nose was straight and his jawline sharp and well-defined.
“I am pleased tae welcome ye tae Kiessimul at last, laird Dùghall. I’ve long been anxious tae meet wi’ ye as I have many questions. I appreciate yer coming.”
“And I have many fer ye, Laird Everard. Mayhap our answers tae these questions will converge.”
Everard raised his whisky glass. “Slàinte math, Laird Dùghall. Please ask me whatever ye wish.”
Dùghall straightened his shoulders. “I believe someone connected with the MacNeil Clan has recently been on Pabhay inquiring about meself. Is that not so?”
Everard nodded. It was only reasonable to explain. “Aye.” He stood, his back to the fire so they could speak face-to-face. “What I learned is that as a lad ye were a close friend of the Lady Sorcha Comyn, daughter of the Laird Nicol Comyn of Freuchie Castle.”
Dùghall sighed. “Och. Ye’re cutting tae the bone already lad.” His eyes grew misty. “Sorcha Comyn was me true love. I’ve ne’er forgotten her, although she married me distant cousin, Murchadh, against her wishes.” His face darkened. “It is me suspicion that she met a tragic fate at the hands of this man.”
The MacKinnon’s remark gave Everard pause. He had already pointed the finger of suspicion at Murchadh for the sudden death of Davina’s mother. A grim possibility he might explore one day.
“I heard ye left yer home on Pabhay after Sorcha was wed and spent some years fighting against the English in France?”
“Mayhap that was a mistake. Had I but kent…” His eyes misted. “Before I departed Scotland fer France, I met with her and begged her tae leave that brute and accompany me. We could have lived abroad. France, Italy, Denmark. But she’d nae leave her wee son, Tòrr.”
“And, instead, ye made a cuckold of Murchadh and then left fer France.”
MacKinnon groaned. Leaning on his elbows he brushed his hands over his eyes. “I was a young fool and mad wi’ love fer the lass. Now that I’m a grey-hair and me blood has cooled, I see the foolishness of me actions.” He looked directly at Everard. “Mayhap if ye fall in love wi’ a lass, and yer world belongs to her and there is naught left fer ye, ye might understand me actions.”
Everard thought of his love for Davina and how willingly he had risked his life to save her from Murchadh Mackinnon and how he’d defied the Council’s wishes. His heart went out to Dùghall.
“Aye, I ken such a love.”
“After many years had passed and I returned tae Pabhay tae take up the lairdship after me father’s death, I sent a lad tae spy fer me. I wished tae learn if Sorcha was well and I entertained a faint hope that Murchadh may have met the kind of ugly fate he deserved and that me love was at last free. It was me fervent hope that someday we might wed.”
“And?” Everard rose and splashed their glasses with whisky again. He was already half-certain of Dùghall’s response.
“I learned that Sorcha had borne a daughter some months after the one and only time we shared the bliss of making love. I learned of Sorcha’s death.” Dùghall stared disconsolately into the rising flames. “I learned that me daughter with Sorcha was named Davina, and that she had been disowned by Murchadh as a bastard…”
Everard drew a sharp breath. “And ye believe Davina is yer true daughter?”
Dùghall nodded. “Aye, that I dae. Murchadh was away swearing his allegiance tae Edward Longshanks, the English King, when I was on Mull wi’ Sorcha. He was gone from the isle fer more than two months.” He grunted and when Everard looked at him, he saw tears trickling down the deep creases in the man’s cheeks. “There was nay possibility that Murchadh could be her faither.”
“And ye have come here, tae Castle Kiessimul, in search of yer daughter Davina?”
The Laird Dùghall nodded. “Me search over the years took me from Mull, where I was told initially that she had died drowned, tae the Priory at Iona. There were rumors that a girl had been brought there by the laird’s son around the same time of her death. Kenning me standing, the nuns admitted that Davina had spent almost a decade there but had just recently fled and was once again believed to have drowned. With a heavy heart, I returned again tae Mull, asking questions of anyone who would listen, hoping tae find out what had become of the lass I firmly believe is me daughter.
“After much investigating, I came upon a lass who told me a strange story of the Laird of the MacNeils and a lass rescued from drowning. She directed me tae the Widow Lachlan’s boarding house. The widow told me the story of how ye’d saved a wee lass. In me heart, I could only believe that lass ye saved was the one I sought.”
“And yer searching brought ye tae the Island of Barra.”
Dùghall nodded. “I think, by chance, I may have found the lass in the market at Castle Bay. I was so out of me mind at that moment, I simply let her disappear intae the crowd.”
