Aidan drew forward. ‘Fortune has smiled on you bastard, to get such a woman, but what torture for Ilene to be married to such a low born brute. I wonder how she bears to share your bed and look at that face of yours every day.’
‘Oh I make her happy enough, and as to sharing my bed, I think she bears it well as she seeks it often enough,’ replied Murray locking eyes with him. ‘I feel myself the luckiest man in the world to have such a beautiful and strong woman beside me, for I know her worth and have long known it, as others do not.’ He thought he saw pain cross Aidan’s features then or was it shame? But spite and jealousy drove it away as quickly as it had come.
‘Aye, well, I don’t doubt you’re happy as we both know how well she can please a man, do we not?’
‘Speak of her again, Aidan, and I will tear out your throat here and now and to hell with negotiating.’
‘Well it seems that unlike you, your son in law is easy to provoke,’ said Lachlan.
Aidan drew closer to his father and sneered at Murray. ‘It’s all you’re good for, bastard, taking my leavings. When this is done, I’ll have her, over and over, and she’ll beg me not to stop… just like before.’
‘You bastard, you’ll die for that,’ snarled Murray, tugging hard on the reins, as his horse, sensing the awful anger in its rider, stamped and reared.
‘No I will sendyoustraight to the devil,’ shouted Aidan, all pretence of indifference gone.
‘The devil and I are old friends these many years you dog. And mark me, as God is my witness, I swear I will kill you today.’
‘Save your anger for the field Murray for we are done with talking,’ said Duncan, his voice cold with anger. ‘Lachlan, you had your chance and now you may have your wish to meet God with that clear conscience of yours, for today I send you to your maker, and that whoreson with you,’ he said, pointing at Aidan.
As they turned their horses away from each other Murray stayed facing the Grants with a face like fury and shouted at Aidan’s retreating back. ‘When the fighting startsboy, try not to piss yourself.’
Then all hell broke loose.
Chapter Thirty
Ailsa and Ilene sat before the fire. They had taken to being together at all times and though they did not always speak, the presence of one for the other gave them strength to bear the dreadful wait for their men to come home. Ilene suddenly burst into tears.
Ailsa went over to her and took her into her arms. ‘Ilene, however hard it is, you must bear it, you must be strong for him. He’ll fight hard to come home to you.’
‘But I never really showed him how much I love him, I didn’t treat him well and now I might never be able to make amends.’
‘What do you mean?
‘I hurt him so very badly.’
Ailsa felt something shift between them. What on earth could Ilene have done to Murray to have such shame, such anguish in her voice? She didn’t really want to ask but she did. ‘How did you hurt him? Did you quarrel?’
‘No much worse than that. I…mother...there is something I should tell you though it is so hard to say the words aloud…and I am so ashamed I…’
The clatter of hooves against cobbles in the yard below had them both freeze. Ailsa’s heart leapt into her throat but she forced herself to be strong for her daughter. Taking Ilene by the shoulders she said, ‘Whatever news is coming now Ilene, we will bear it, no matter what.’
A messenger burst in some moments later. He was young, no more than about thirteen, and on his face, pale with exhaustion, it seemed that there sat the weight of the world. He blurted out his bad tidings in a rush.
‘It is started. They sent me back to give word,’ he said breathlessly. ‘The Grants would not make terms so they were going to fight, up at Mallach Moor.’
‘When?’ demanded Ailsa.
‘They were forming lines as I was sent off.’
‘How many sided with the Grants?’ said Ilene.
‘As many as us as far as I could tell Lady, and heavily armed, archers, pikes, muskets and such like. ‘T’was your husband lady, who sent me off from the fight. He bid me deliver a message to you, said your life depended on it.’
‘What message?’
‘I was to tell you this.’ He took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling as if trying to pull out of his head the words, which he had repeated to himself, over and over, on the frantic ride home. The scarred one terrified him so he didn’t want to get it wrong and be on the receiving end of a thrashing. ‘Lady, he said to tell you, if it goes bad, remember your promise. Do not wait for me, do not fail me. Go north.’
***