Page 36 of The Heather Wife
His brows drew tight. She went on.
“From the moment I opened my ears to the clan’s counsel, Calum, there was but one judgment ever asked for Niall—banishment. No man or woman called for his death; they knew well he could not remain among them, but neither did they thirst for his blood. Had I believed otherwise, I would not have stayed my hand. I would have had no qualm seeing him hang.”
Her fingers curled at her side. “But to kill Niall, when his guilt—great though it was—was born of weakness and sway, would have been like killing you. You did not loose the gates, but your blindness to those who stood beside you let the raiders through all the same.”
His breath caught, though he said nothing.
“I could not put him to death for what the clan itself did not ask,” she finished softly. “Nor would I stain my hands for vengeance alone.”
She turned then, meaning to walk away, but her steps slowed. “It was not easy, writing home,” she said, her voice lower still. “Almost five months I have been gone, and no word has been sent to me—not until I wrote first with that request. The reply was short, but my father agreed. The cottage outside Glenbrae’s walls was set in order for them. It is not much, but it will be safer for them there than being cast out into the Highlands.”
The words left a faint ache in her chest. She had not wanted her first letter home to be a plea for the lives of those who had betrayed her. Yet so it was.
Calum’s silence pressed on her as heavy as theHighland sky. At last she looked at him once more.
“You wished to ken the truth. Now you have it.”
She left him there, though she felt his eyes on her back until she passed beyond the yard. And when she glanced toward the cottages, her gaze lingered on the old Dunn smithy—now filled with the clang of a new blacksmith, John Dunn's apprentice who had taken up the post. The sound rang strange, a reminder that nothing in Strathloch stood still.
***
Calum
Calum remained rooted where she had left him, her words ringing in his skull.To kill Niall would have been like killing you.The comparison cut deeper than any blade, for it was true. He had not loosed the gates, yet his folly had paved the way all the same. And if mercy could be granted to Niall, then what reckoning still awaited him?
Chapter 31
Calum
Calum found his father in the solar, the fire burning low, the scent of peat and old smoke clinging to the stones. Domhnall sat in the great oak chair, cane braced across his knees, the lines of his face carved deep with age and thought. Yet when Calum stepped into the room, those eyes snapped open—keen as ever, sharp as a drawn blade.
For a moment Calum stood rooted, the weight of his own shame pressing him down. He had faced raiders with steel in hand, but this was heavier by far—as though every misstep of the past months had bound itself about his chest.
At length he crossed the chamber and lowered himself into the chair opposite. His gaze wandered the room, and a memory stirred—Sorcha at seven and ten, standing in this very place in her gown of blue. He remembered, against his will, how bonnie she had looked, the colour bright against her grey eyes and amber hair.
“Did ye ken,” he began, voice rough as gravel, “that she wrote to Glenbrae for Niall and Mairi? She asked her kin if they might dwell in an old cottage outside Glenbrae's gates.”
Domhnall leaned back, his brows drawing close. For a moment his face was unreadable. Then the corner of his mouthtugged in a wry half-smile. “That lass… No. I had nae notion.” The smirk faded swiftly, replaced with sober weight. “But I do ken what such a thing means. Calum, think on it. Near five months she has been gone from her father’s hall, and in all that time not a single word has been sent her way. Not once have her kin written to ask after her, nor to see how she fared. And yet it was she who reached out first—aye, and not for her own comfort, but to beg mercy for a man who sought her death. Do ye grasp the weight of that? For her first words home to be a plea, and to folk who left her in silence—that takes a courage and a humility ye’ve yet to measure.” He rapped his cane once on the stone flags. “That silence from Glenbrae is its own wound, and she bore it with none the wiser.”
Domhnall’s eyes hardened. “Dinna mistake her silence for ease, lad. Every word she gives ye costs her dear. She speaks little, but when she does, it is carved from the bone.”
He shook his head, a shadow crossing his face. “I once thought her father a wise and honourable man. Yet he wed her off for alliance, set her in your hands, and then let near half a year pass without so much as a letter. They used her well enough when it suited Glenbrae, and then cast her aside as though she were naught but a pawn. Remember that, when ye look upon her. She owes none of us aught—and still she gives more than any of us deserve.”
Calum’s chest ached. His father’s words cut deeper than he wished to hear. He had thought Sorcha cold, unyielding—but it wasna coldness. It was endurance.
“When I asked her why she would grant Niall banishment and then help him and Mairi after he conspired with Elspeth to have her killed. She said…” His throat closed, but he forced the words out. “She said to kill Niall would have been like killing me.”
Domhnall’s eyes narrowed. “And was she wrong?”
The answer burned in him, bitter as ash. Calum lowered his gaze to the floor. “No.”
He dragged a hand over his face. “I’ve done naught but err with her. I shunned her, scorned her, called another the wife of my heart when Sorcha was the one bearing the weight I cast aside. Now the clan looks to her, and I cannot fault them for it. I want to ken her, to make things right, but I dinna ken where to begin.”
Domhnall rose, his cane steadying him, and crossed to lay a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder. His voice was stern, yet not without a measure of kindness.
“Ye begin by kenning her, lad. Not as the lass ye wed in duty, nor the stranger ye made of her, but as your wife. Sit with her. Listen. Let her words speak and hold your tongue. The clan sees her worth clear enough—you’d best open your own eyes, if ye mean to stand at her side and no’ trail behind.”
Calum swallowed hard. “And if she will not forgive me?”
