Page 82 of The Lyon and the Unicorn
The boy grinned and gave her a hug, then they set off.
Murdo’s heart swelled at her warmth toward the boy. What might she be like tending to her own child?
Totheirchild…
As the parsonage came into view, Gregor pointed ahead. “That’s my home.”
Murdo saw his wife stiffen.
“Your father’s the parson?” she said, her voice tight.
“Aye,” Gregor said, tugging at her hand. “Come along, Mrs. McTavish—I want ye to speak to my ma.”
Clara glanced over her shoulder at Murdo, then let the boy lead her to the house, where she hesitated for a heartbeat before knocking on the door.
The parson’s wife opened it.
“Ma!” Gregor cried. “I’ve brought Mrs.—”
“What are ye doing here?” she snarled, almost baring her teeth at Clara. “And with my son! I thought I told ye…”
“Mrs. Stewart,” Clara began, “your son hurt his—”
“Keep away!” The parson’s wife pulled Gregor to her, then slapped him on the rump. “Get inside, child, and clean the filth off ye.”
She turned to Clara. “I already said I don’t want a whore near my family,” she snarled. “It’s bad enough that on Sundays we must endure—Oh!” She yelped as she caught sight of Murdo approaching.
“Please continue, Mrs. Stewart,” Murdo said, taking Clara’s hand. “There’s nothing ye can say to my wife that ye shouldn’t say to me.”
She had the grace to blush, if nothing else. “Forgive me, Mr. McTavish, but—”
“It’s notmyforgiveness ye should seek,” Murdo said. “But I’ll not ask it.” He lifted Clara’s hand to his lips. “Not because I think my wife undeserving of an apology—she’s the most deserving soul I know—but because no apology is worth the words uttered if it’s not given with sincerity.”
Her color deepened.
“Ye might well blush, Mrs. Stewart, being a parson’s wife,” Murdo said. “Gossip doesn’t become a woman. Does Mr. Stewart share yer opinion of my wife?”
She shook her head. “He’s said I mustn’t listen to talk, but yer father said—”
Murdo raised his hand. “Nobodyhere has the right to speak about my wife, least of all him,” he said. “My wife is kind and virtuous. Since she’s come to Strathburn, she’s done more to benefit the clan than my father ever has, and ye know why? Because she cares whether the people here live or die—unlike some, who wish to see others as subordinates.” He thrust his face close, and her eyes widened in fear. “If I hear one word against my wife, uttered on the lips of any woman hereabouts, I’ll hold ye personally accountable.”
“Mr. McTavish, that’s hardly fair. I—”
“Oh, isn’t it?” Murdo said. “Just because I’m a man doesn’t mean I’m not aware who peddles gossip. Or perhaps ye’d like me to discuss the matter with yer husband?”
She shook her head.
“Good,” he said. “Now go and see to yer son. Consider yerself fortunate that my wife was there to tend to his injuries. And remember,” he added, jabbing a finger at the woman’s chest, “one word against my wife and ye’ll face the consequences.”
She nodded and retreated inside, and Murdo steered his wife toward the castle.
Before they reached the building, he felt her little hand slip into his.
“Thank you.”
“I promised to cherish and protect ye, didn’t I?” he replied. “I failed ye once, but I’ll never fail ye again.”
He met her gaze, and the smile in her eyes gave him a shred of hope that one day, she might once more be able to give him her trust—and her love.
