Page 16 of Highland Sword
The physician gestured to Morrigan. “Come inside with me.”
The young woman’s eyes immediately found Aidan’s. A question lingered in the dark depths along with a fleeting look of vulnerability.
Aidan stepped aside and followed them in. The cottage was dark. The air inside damp and chill. His law clerk, Kane Branson, bowed to Morrigan as Isabella made a quick introduction.
Aidan stood inside the door and watched her. He doubted Morrigan would hurt Sparrow now. Not after what the doctor had shared about the man’s poor state of health. Not after their conversation. But he also wanted her to know about the informer’s value to the cause.
The moment Sparrow turned his face toward them, Morrigan’s shoulders stiffened, and she rocked back as ifshe’d been stabbed. The sick man’s reaction, however, was far different.
“I can’t believe heaven would smile so on a poor sinner like myself,” he rasped haltingly between labored breaths. “I must have done something right in my life for such a blessing. To find my own kin beside me at the end of my miserable life.”
A spasm of coughing shook him, and he struggled to breathe.
Kin?Aidan looked from Sparrow to Morrigan. She’d turned to stone. No visible movement. Silent as death.
Looking perplexed, Isabella touched her hand. “You know him? Is this true? This man is a relation?”
Aidan thought back to Inverness. She’d drawn a weapon. He had no doubt she’d intended to kill Sparrow.
“I know it’s been a long time, lass.” He raised a shaking hand to her. She made no move to take it. “The years have been hard and cruel on me. But don’t tell me you don’t remember your own uncle.”
The cottage became a sealed crypt, the air thick and heavy. Every sound died, inside and out. Aidan couldn’t tear his gaze from Morrigan. Her hands, hanging flat against her sides, ever so slowly curled into fists.
“My sweet child…” Sparrow managed to gasp.
Without uttering a word, Morrigan turned sharply on her heel and strode to the door. The dark eyes in her ashen face looked straight ahead. Her shoulder bumped against his as she passed, but Aidan didn’t think she noticed.
Wherever she was going, she never paused or gave any sign that she even heard Isabella calling after her.
CHAPTER7
MORRIGAN
Morrigan couldn’t breathe. She felt trapped, weighted down, buried alive. She needed to go somewhere, hit something, break free of this horrible feeling. Thankfully, the training yard was empty when she reached it.
Tearing off her tam and coat, she tossed them aside. She drew a backsword from the rack and swung the single-edged blade as she strode onto the yard.
The straw-covered pell summoned her. A dozen steps and she was thrusting, cutting, slicing, hitting the target with vicious strokes, again and again. Her heart raced. A fever raged through her, threatening to reduce her to fiery ash. But she continued with the assault on the training pillar.
She’d been only twelve years old when her father left her in the care of family in Perth. A motherless child. They were supposed to protect her, watch over her, keep her safe.Safe.Pain shot through Morrigan’s arms, jarring her from the force of the sword connecting with the wood through the sacking and the straw.
Kin! How dare you call yourself that? Blackguard!
The weapon whirled in an arc over her head and smashed down on the pell. She drew the sword back, striking again.
Her throat burned, but she refused to shed a tear. When had she become so stupid? She should have guessed he was in that cottage. The Grants had been speaking to him in Inverness. But she’d justified in her mind that they’d been speaking to many witnesses.Fool!
Over and over, Morrigan delivered more blows, feeling the impact of each one across her shoulders and down her back.
Seeing him here at Dalmigavie or a half-day’s ride away in Inverness, the effect was the same. The monster was alive. Every painful memory was back. Ever since hearing his disgusting voice and seeing his horrid face, she’d had no control over her thoughts. Her insides burned with sadness, with rage.
All these years, her father had been right.Forget. Pretend. Forget.
Her arms were burning, but she continued to swing the sword, punishing the sacking, straw, and wood.
Her father had taken her away. They went to the continent. To Wurzburg. The past was buried, never to be talked about. Their family was dead to them. It was easier to forget, not to remember, to pretend nothing had happened. Morrigan wished she could do the same thing now. She wanted this anguish to be gone.
She raised the sword high and brought it down with all her strength near the very top of the pell. The blade’s edge buried itself deep in the wood. Her head and shoulders rang with pain from the force of the blow. She tried to wrench it out, but the sword wouldn’t pull free. She let go of the handle of the weapon and kicked at the post, again and again, until her toes went numb.
