Grace in Thine Eyes (47 page)

With a soundless cry she ran up and clasped their hands, only to discover their palms bruised and bleeding.

“What’s this?” Mrs. McAllister demanded, her sharp gaze roving over their disheveled clothes and filthy boots. “Ye didna return from Goatfell in sic a state on Monday.”

“Nae, we did not.” Will and Sandy straightened with obvious effort. “If you might fetch us two pitchers of hot water, Mrs.—”

“Aye, and weel I maun, or ye’ll have
bluid
on me linens.” She was already bound for the kitchen.

Davina opened their hands, staring at the torn skin.
Poor lads
. Had they not worn gloves?

“ ’Tis nothing,” Will said, pulling free of her grasp, then lightly brushing his fingertip along her chin. “You are safe. That is all that matters, lass.”

Safe?
When she turned to Sandy, he nodded but made no comment. His hand in hers was limp.

The innkeeper returned promptly, holding up two pitchers. “I’ll tak these tae yer rooms, for yer hands dinna leuk as if they’ll grip the handles.” She headed for the stair, calling over her shoulder, “ ’Twas fearsome on the hills, aye?”

Sandy did not look at her when he answered. “It was.”

Davina followed them up to their room, unwilling to let the lads out of her sight. Something was very wrong. Had the men quarreled? Lost their way? And where was Somerled? Surely he’d not departed without bidding her farewell.

To her relief, Mrs. McAllister poured the steaming water into the bowl yet did not tarry. “If ye need oniething, I’ll be doon the stair.”

Davina helped her brothers remove their coats, then gave them room to bathe, dismayed to see them wincing in pain as they splashed hot water over their cuts and bruises.
Whatever has happened?
she asked them with her eyes, touching her lips with trembling fingers.
Speak to me
. When they did not respond at once, Davina tugged at their shirt sleeves, her desperation mounting.
Look at me. Please, for I can bear it no longer
.

At last her brothers turned to her. Their hands were dry, but their faces were wet with tears.

Her throat tightened. ’Twas even worse than she’d feared.

“Davina … oh, my dear sister.” Will took her hands in his, squeezing them until they ached. “Sir Harry … fell.”

Fell?
Her eyes widened in shock.

“From the summit …,” Sandy said, his voice breaking.

But did he … was he …
As if by rote, she pulled one hand free to pat her forehead.
I don’t understand
.

“Davina, he did not … survive the fall.”

Nae. ’Tis not possible
. She shook her head, slowly at first, then harder.
Not Somerled’s father. Not Sir Harry
.

“We are so very sorry, lass.”

The room began to spin.
He cannot be dead. Cannot, cannot
.

“Somerled tried to rescue him …” Will’s voice was raw, painful to listen to. “He did everything he could, Davina.”

“Everything.” Sandy took her free hand, numb as it was. “Somerled was very brave.”

“And he …” Will choked on a sob, then looked down at the floor.

He what?
Davina tried to mouth the words but could not. She wrenched her hands from their grasp and pressed them to her brow.
What? Somerled what?

They did not answer her. They could not look at her.

And then Davina understood.
He fell too
.

She sank to the floor. A faint groan, low and deep, came pouring forth like blood from a wound.
Not my betrothed. Not my Somerled. He cannot be dead
.

He had kissed her. That morning. And she had kissed him. That morning.

He cannot be gone
. Davina began to rock back and forth.
Nae, nae, nae, he cannot
.

Will knelt beside her and gathered her in his arms. “Davina, you must believe me.” The words sounded bruised, like his hands. “We tried to save Somerled. Truly, we did. We wanted him to live. We wanted him … for you.”

For me, Somerled. You did this for me
. Tears flowed from the well of her heart, from the place where sorrow had its source.
’Tis my fault. My fault completely. If not for me … oh, Somerled, if not for me …

Sixty-Seven

See, sons, what things you are!
How quickly nature falls into revolt.
W
ILLIAM
S
HAKESPEARE

J
amie leaned forward on his borrowed mount, urging the mare on, even as he cast an eye to the darkening skies. The inn at Cladach was only a mile hence. Might he escape the coming storm?

One plump drop of rain hit his cheek, then another.

Pulling the brim of his hat more firmly over his brow, Jamie rode hard for the inn where his daughter waited for news: They would indeed sail in the morning. Home to Glentrool and to Leana, who would be shocked to learn their daughter was betrothed to a Highlander.

I had no choice, dear wife. She was already his
.

The rain was slowly increasing by the time he reached the small settlement. Doors were still propped open, and folk stood about in twos and threes, engaged in their endless gossip. At the sight of him the cottagers bent their heads together, making no attempt to conceal their scorn or lower their voices.

Circulating among them was Mrs. McAllister, Cladach’s leading purveyor of clack. Jamie would not miss her meddlesome ways or her thin mattresses or her thinner broth.

“Thar ye are, Mr. McKie!” Despite her girth, she hastened toward him with surprising speed, her visage more ominous than the clouds overhead. “Ye maun see tae yer family wi’oot delay.” She waved toward the inn. “Mak nae mistake. ’Tis a tragedy what’s come.”

“My
family
?” Jamie had already dismounted and was running for the door, dragging his horse and the innkeeper with him. “Tell me what’s happened, woman!”

Breathless, she managed a single sentence. “Sir Harry MacDonald
tummled
from the
heid
o’ Goatfell and didna survive the
fa’.
”

He stopped as if struck. “Sir Harry is … dead?”

“Aye.” She dabbed at her moist brow with her apron. “MacDonald’s son tried tae save him, they said.”

Jamie stared at her. “Who told you this?”

“Aye, weel …” Her cheeks grew ruddy. “I
hearkened
near yer sons’ door. From the landin’ on the stair, ye ken.”

Disgusted, he thrust the reins into her hands. “ ’Tis nothing but blether you’re peddling. See it travels no further ’til I learn the truth.” Fueled by anger, by grief, by fear, Jamie marched through the inn door and up the wooden stair, grinding his teeth when he turned on the landing and heard voices from above.
How dare the woman eavesdrop on my sons!

Jamie took the rest of the steps two at a time, then knocked on the door out of habit before flinging it open. “Lads?” He found them pulling on their coats while the storm unleashed its fury on the slates above them. “Can it be true?”

The twins looked at each other, then at him. Their hands stilled, and their faces grew ashen. “You know?”

“Aye.” He gestured toward the stair, then closed the door behind him. “Mrs. McAllister tarried on the landing and jaloused some of your conversation.”

Sandy’s shoulders sagged beneath his unbuttoned coat. “Goatfell was covered in clouds. We should ne’er have climbed it.”

“Then why did you?” Jamie regretted his sharp tone; Sandy was clearly in enough pain. “Did Sir Harry insist upon it?”

“The four of us struggled to reach the summit,” Will admitted. “Once there, ’twas difficult to find our bearing.”

Jamie slowly nodded, imagining the harrowing scene.
Poor Sir Harry
. To have lost his life for no good reason. Somerled must be suffering as well, having witnessed his father’s deadly fall. And Davina would be inconsolable.

His heart stopped at the realization. “Where is your sister?”

“We left her not a minute ago,” Will said, “in her room down the stair, curled up on the bed. She is …” He paused, struggling to find the words. “Grieving. Terribly.”

“And no wonder.” Jamie shifted his weight, torn by his responsibilities. Davina needed him; so did his sons, who’d beheld a grisly sight. Mindful of the need for prudent action, Jamie pressed the twins harder than he liked. “I assume you’ve reported Sir Harry’s death to the duke’s steward.”

Sandy was attempting to button his coat without much success. “We’ve told no one. Yet.”

Jamie’s hands went cold. “You were witness to a death and did not report it?”

“We’ve been on Arran only a few days,” Will reminded him, “and didn’t know where to turn.”

His son’s words chafed at his conscience.
I should have been here. Nae, I should have been on that mountain
.

Jamie leaned against the door with a weary sigh. “Finish dressing, for I must comfort your sister, then take you directly to Brodick castle. I met the steward on Monday, you ken. He also serves as Arran’s justice of the peace. You’ll be prepared to answer his questions, aye? About how Sir Harry fell?”

“Father …” Will bowed his head. “The news is far worse than that.”

Jamie straightened, even as the hairs on his neck rose.

“When Sir Harry slid down the north side of Goatfell, Somerled tried to reach him and … fell … onto the rocks.”

“Somerled is dead as well?” Horrified, Jamie stared at his sons. At their stubborn jaws and their averted gazes. “Did you do nothing to prevent this?”

“We tried to rescue Somerled,” Sandy murmured at last.

“He slipped from our grasp, Father. I promise you, we did everything we could.”

Jamie remembered another of Will’s promises.
My anger will burn far longer than that
. Had his sons done the unthinkable?

Two strides and Jamie was face to face with them, his hands clenching their collars. “Tell me this was an accident and not an act of vengeance.”

Will flinched when Jamie tightened his grip. “We did not murder them, Father.”

“That is not what I asked you.” Jamie shook them both, even as his heart began to break. “Did you deceive these men and then allow them to die?”

“We tried to rescue Somerled.” The same answer from Sandy, which was no answer at all.

Jamie wanted to shout at them. Wanted to throttle them. He could do neither in a public inn, but he would not let go of them without knowing the truth. “Did you want these Highlanders dead?
Did
you?”

“We did.” Will yanked free from his grasp and stepped back. “From the day we arrived on Arran. But we did not murder them. They fell. Both of them.” His voice was ragged, as if scraped across granite, and his dark eyes shone like glass. “We could not save Sir Harry, because he was too far down the hillside. But we did everything possible to save Somerled. I risked my life—”

“He did,” Sandy interjected. “Will climbed down and tried to reach him.”

“But you did not succeed. You watched him die and his father before him.” Jamie released his grip on Sandy, then backed away, clenching his fists in frustration. “What am I to do with you? Let the justice of the peace probe and question until he has enough evidence to hang you both? What will I say to your mother? And—God, help me—how will I comfort your sister? You have torn apart Davina’s life. Twice.”

“Please, Father.” Will begged him with his eyes, with his hands, with his tears. “Help us do whatever must be done. To make things right.”

Right?
Did they think such a travesty could be mended with words? “Two men are dead because of you. Never forget that. You can be sure I will not.” Jamie turned away with a groan, unclenching his hands, releasing some of his anger, if only for the moment. There was too much to be done. Too much to be explained. And a daughter who needed him.

“Make yourselves presentable,” he ordered them, “while I attend to your sister. Do not tarry, for tongues are already wagging round Cladach.”

Jamie did not remember walking down the stair, turning at the landing, reaching the entrance hall. Shock and disbelief numbed his mind, dulled his senses.
We did not murder them
. The men were
nonetheless dead, and his sons were in some way responsible.
God forgive them
. No one in Scotland would be so merciful.

Standing before his daughter’s door, he lifted his arm as if a sack of oats hung from his wrist, then knocked twice. “ ’Tis your father.” Jamie gave her a moment to compose herself, then eased open the door of the small room with its single, flickering candle and rain-soaked windowpanes.

Davina was sitting on the side of her bed, her hair unkempt, her cheeks chapped from crying. The handkerchief Leana had embroidered for her was clutched in her hands.

Undone at the sight of her, Jamie simply held out his arms.

She leaped into them with a sob, knocking him back on his heels, then clung to his shoulders and buried her face in his chest.

My poor child
. He held her for a long time, saying nothing. Smoothing back her tangled hair. Drying her tears, though they would not stop.

“I am sorry,” he whispered at last. “So very sorry.”

She touched the handkerchief to her heart again and again.

“Aye.” Tears tightened round his words. “Somerled loved you very much.”

Davina’s features crumpled as she nodded her head.

Searching for some word of comfort, Jamie finally said, “I will take you home to your mother. Before the week is out, Lord willing.” He could think of no greater solace to offer her. Leana would know what to do, what to say to help their daughter, an innocent young woman who’d lost her virtue and then her only hope of redeeming it.
God, help us. What is to be done?

Footsteps in the hall, then a tapping at the door announced her brothers. Jamie gently stepped back, making sure she could stand on her own. “Forgive me, Davina, but I must take Will and Sandy to the castle. We’ve some business to attend to.” He did not burden her with details. “I’ll ask Mrs. McAllister to remain withindoors, should you need her, and will send for Reverend Stewart. We’ll not be gone more than an hour.”