Page 12 of When a Scot Gives His Heart
Marsaili sucked in a shocked breath. “Maria?”
“Aye,” the Campbell medicine woman, who once had been her friend, answered in a hushed tone as she moved toward the cell, unlocked it, and stepped in to take hold of Marsaili’s elbow. “Can ye walk?”
“Depends on where ye’re leading me,” she said, guarded. As the room started to sway around her, she reached back, glad her hand met with the wall. It was slimy and she wanted to draw away, but she refused to fall on her face and she could not be certain her legs were going to hold her upright on their own.
The woman sniggered. “I see yer time away has nae made ye any friendlier.”
“I’m friendly when I ken I’m amongst friends,” Marsaili replied, catching a faint trace of something that smelled suspiciously and enticingly like bread. Her mouth instantly began to water. “Do ye have bread?”
“Aye,” Maria said, pitching her voice lower. “For my friends.” Sarcasm dripped from her tone.
“I’m sorry,” Marsaili said, lowering her voice as Maria had done. “It’s just the betrayals are stacking up faster than I can count them. I dunnae ken who to trust.”
Maria squeezed Marsaili’s shoulder. “I was sent down here by Jean to tend yer wounds,” she whispered. “She wants ye up above in the great hall shortly. Yer father’s men, the ones who were supposed to be accompanying ye here, have arrived, as well as the Earl of Ulster’s men.” She motioned toward the door. “I overheard Jean say the earl is demanding ye be delivered to him at once.”
Marsaili’s skin crawled at the thought. “So are ye simply here to tend me?” It seemed she could trust Maria as she once had, but she needed to be certain.
“Nay, though yer head surely needs my care. Ye must have hit it quite hard whilst ye were away because I clearly recall helping ye escape once before. I also clearly recall ye saying ye would nae step foot in this castle ever again.”
Marsaili snatched the bread that Maria was now dangling in front of her face and shoved it in her mouth. In between chewing, she said, “I was compelled to come back.”
“Nothing on Earth will compel me to ever come back here again when I leave,” Maria announced in a quiet tone.
Marsaili swallowed the bread and swiped a hand across her mouth to rid it of crumbs. “Are ye finally leaving?” She had begged Maria to come last time, but the woman had stayed because of her sister.
“Aye,” Maria replied, linking arms with Marsaili. “With ye.”
Marsaili was glad to hear it, yet she had to know what had changed. “What of yer sister? I thought ye could nae leave because of her.”
“I could nae, but she married a Grant”—Marsaili flinched at the mention of Callum’s clan—“nae long ago,” Maria continued, oblivious to the havoc she had just wreaked inside Marsaili. She had never confided to Maria what had occurred between her and Callum. She wanted to, but she had been waiting to share her secret when he returned for her, but soon after he left, Helena had told her that Callum was promised to wed another and had been for years. Helena had been thrilled, sure that was why Callum had not succumbed to her charms, and Marsaili had been devastated and confused. Both emotions had given way to anger and betrayal when she hadn’t heard from Callum again. Her father had immediately discovered that she was with child, and from then until the birth, her mind had been consumed with fear. After the birth, grief had consumed her.
“Anyway,” Maria said, “my sister departed. I was hoping to be allowed to join the Grant clan, but I wanted to give her time to settle into her new married life before she asked her husband to go to the laird and make a request on my behalf.” Maria shrugged. “I’ve nae heard from her yet, but I’m departing with ye anyway.”
“What if the Grant laird denies yer sister’s request?” Marsaili asked, thinking of how Callum had deceived her so long ago. Perhaps his father was as terrible a laird as his son was a person.
“I dunnae think he would. I’ve heard naught but good things about Callum Grant.”
“Callum G-Grant?” Marsaili sputtered.
“Aye, ye recall him, I suppose, from the time he was here for the Gathering.”
“Aye.” Her face heated with shame of the truth she needed to admit. It was rather daunting having to tell someone she had given her virtue and her heart so foolishly, but she needed help. She had no notion how to find the Summer Walkers and her son, or even how she would know her son if she did find them. Not only was Maria a healer but she’d always seemed wise to Marsaili and she had always been kind. Her husband, who had been a warrior, had been killed by Marsaili’s father for refusing to obey orders to turn women and children from her father’s land after their husbands, fathers, and sons had died in battle for the Campbell. “He’s laird now?”
“Aye. Has been for near three years.”
Marsaili frowned. “Near three years, ye say?”
“Aye,” Maria added, her words suddenly sounding rushed. “We’ll talk more later, aye? When we are free from here? There is a guard outside. I’ll tell him I need to tend ye in the healing room, and then we can take ye to Jean. He’s been ordered nae to let ye out of his sight. But once we’re in the healing room, I’ll offer him a drink, which will be laced with a sleeping draft.”
“What if he will nae drink it?”
Maria shrugged. “Then I’ll hit him over the head with my candelabra. It’s good and heavy, and should put him straight to sleep.”
Marsaili shelved that bit of information for the future. “Then what?”
“Well, then we slip out of the castle, through the woods, and to the trails that lead us away from here. But as ye were compelled to come back here, I suppose ye seek something, and I would like to ken what.”
Maria started to walk toward the cracked door, but Marsaili pulled her back. “I came here to find my bairn,” she blurted.
