Page 43 of Bride of the Mad Laird
Tòrr and Edmund were involved in a discussion, their voices low, as if they didn’t wish to be overhead.
Ha. If ye didnae wish fer a lass tae overhear ye lads, ye should have made sure tae close the door properly.
From the stern quality of their voices, she deduced the matter for discussion was of great importance. She held her breath, a painful knot forming in her belly. If they were discussing her, then it did not bode well.
She crept closer, placing her straining ears as near to the door as she dared.
Tòrr was speaking but the crackling of the fire prevented her from make out every softly spoken word. She heard “…the day after tomorrow, nae later…”.
Then Edmund, “Ye must make yer decision… then…”
Tòrr spoke again. “MacDougall wants us tae…”
The knot in her stomach tightened and she sucked in a frightened breath.MacDougall.They must have heard from their men who were searching for the gallowglasses.
She strained her ears to pick up the next words. They were Edmund’s. “…if the Council insists, we hand over the Lady MacInnes…”
Holding her breath, she waited for Tòrr’s response.
“I cannae say…”
Grasping her belly, she was almost doubled over with the pain.
The laird intends tae hand me over tae me family’s sworn enemy.”
Turning on her heel she dashed back to the sanctuary of her own bedchamber, her mind reeling with this new revelation. Laird Tòrr would betray her if his Council demanded it.
Of course, they’ll demand I be given tae MacDougall, like a chicken trussed fer the pot, with nay possible escape.
Once her breathing had almost returned to normal, and her heart was no longer hammering in her chest like a war-drum, she slumped into the chair in front of the fire.
I must leave taenight.
She jumped to her feet, her eyes looking around for what she might take with her. She harrumphed. With so few possessions, save for her precious wooden box,she would travel light. After taking down the box from behind the bedstand, she took the small gold key she wore on a fine chain around her neck and unlocked the box for the first time.
She knew it contained the few items of importance her mother had left. Nestled inside she found a gold amulet, an old crucifix, a locket, and underneath these items, a felt pouch. She pulled open the ribbons and shook out the contents of the purse. There were a number of gold and silver coins there, a ring and a pair of emerald earbobs.
Her mother’s silver coins would be enough to see her across the Sound of Mull to Lochaline. The distance was not great. If she could find a fisherman to take her across, she could be back in her Clan lands by morning.
Once there she knew she could find help to guide her to Kinlochaline Castle.
If only MacDougall daesnae find me first.
She was holding in check the pain that came from the knowledge that the Laird Tòrr was prepared to give her into MacDougall’s clutches.
Cold logic told her that the MacKinnon Clan would not wish to bring down MacDougall’s wrath on all their heads. It was but a simple arrangement to give her up and avoid war with a powerful clan.
Tòrr, as the laird, would never risk the safety and lives of his people.
Yet, though that logic made sense, she couldn’t help a crack opening up in her heart. The warm and trusting piece of it that had believed herself falling in love with Tòrr broke away, leaving behind a dark, hollow, space filled with unshed tears.
But there was no time now to dwell on a shattered heart. She was only thankful that she had been jolted into awareness and not allowed her feelings to mislead her into believing the Laird Tòrr would keep her safe.
She slipped on her mother’s earbobs. Then after exchanging her slippers for woolen socks and pulling on her boots and lacing them, she gathered her few items – a linen cloth, clean stockings and chemise, and the precious little carved wooden box, and piled them into a small cloth bag. She slung the bag around her neck and across herself for safekeeping, slipped on her tunic and shrugged on her cloak.
Then, with a soft and silent tread she made her way along the passage, past Laird Tòrr’s door – which was now shut tight – and continued down the stairs and out into the courtyard.
It was almost pitch dark, with only a sliver of moon hanging in a velvet sky to light her way. She slipped unnoticed across the bailey and past the guard at the gate.
