The Promise of Peace (8 page)

She walked to him and when she stood close, he pulled her into his lap. His blue eyes shone with concern. “How are you feeling?”

She put her arms around his neck and kissed his forehead. “Fit as can be.”

“Good. Then ye won't mind this.” He kissed her lips and she quite lost track of time and place. Sometime later, she heard the familiar sound of her mother clearing her throat. Morrigan reluctantly pulled away—how many times had Eveleen found them thus?

But today Eveleen didn't smile as she usually did. White-faced and edgy, she stood at the open door and wasted no time with pleasantries.

“We have a visitor. Yer Uncle Angus.”

Morrigan jumped to her feet, romance forgotten. “But Uncle Angus is in prison.”

“He's been released.”

Four years ago Uncle Angus had tried to kidnap Keifer. For that offense and for supporting the English king, Robert the Bruce had imprisoned Angus Macnab.

And now he was free? How had Angus managed that? “Where is he?”

“At the gate. I . . . I refused him entrance.”

Fergus stood and walked over to Eveleen. “That was wise, good mother.” He took her arm as though he realized she needed his courage to bolster her own. “Come, let's see what he wants.”

“What will we tell him about Keifer?” Eveleen asked as they walked toward the keep's door.

Morrigan moved to walk at her mother's other side. “The truth. He isn't here. We are not required to tell him or anyone else where the boy is.”

The three of them went into the bailey and to the gate. Morrigan only hoped the man would pay his respects and be gone without upsetting her mother. Morrigan would hear him out and send him on his way. The portal was open, but Morrigan's men held the visitor at sword point.

Angus had dismounted, and though Fergus and Eveleen stopped this side of the gate, Morrigan walked forward and halted beside her guards. She could barely restrain her dislike of her uncle.

“Uncle Angus. This is quite a surprise.”

He sketched a courtesy. “King Robert released me a few days ago. Bruce has given me a small tract of land an hour north of here. I thought . . . I wanted ye to know I am close by if ye need anything.”

“We have never needed anything from ye, Angus,” Eveleen said with quiet dignity.

Fergus said, “Are ye for Bruce, then?”

“Aye. A few years in prison gives a man time to see the error of his ways.”

Morrigan wasn't sure she believed him but kept her thoughts to herself.

Angus stepped closer. “Eveleen.” He looked down at the ground. “I'll not come back here to disturb yer peace. But I must speak with ye in private this once.”

Eveleen looked to Morrigan.

She nodded. “It's all right, Mother, if you wish to.”

“Speak to me here, Angus. I have no desire to be private with ye.”

He drew a deep breath. “All right. They say that public confession is good for the soul.”

Again Morrigan worried that Angus would unnecessarily upset her mother. “Uncle Angus, confession might be good for you, but it might not be good for those who must listen to what you say.” She stared at him, and with a nod he acknowledged her point.

“That may be true, niece, but still these words need saying. First of all, ye need not fear for Keifer. I will not harm the boy. 'Tis the least I can do to repay—”

“You don't owe us anything,” Morrigan interrupted.

“Ah, but I do, Morrigan.” He turned to Eveleen. “Ye see, I killed Ian.”

Eveleen frowned. “Don't be ridiculous. He fell from his horse.”

Morrigan was struck dumb by this confession. What was Angus up to?

Stepping closer to Eveleen, he said, “Aye, so I told ye. I could not face ye with the truth.”

Morrigan said, “You killed my father? Why bother to confess now after all this time?”

“A man has time to think in prison, time to pray for God's forgiveness. And now I'm needin' yers.”

“Ye killed yer own brother.” Eveleen swayed, and Fergus steadied her. “How? Why?”

“We argued. He walked away from me and I charged him, knocked him down. He fell, hit a rock and broke his neck.”

“He didn't fall from the horse?” Eveleen whispered.

He laid his hand on her arm. “Nay, he did not.”

Eveleen shoved at his hand, pushing it away. “Ye lied and let me believe that lie all this time.” Her voice rose in obvious anger. “Why bother to tell me now?”

Morrigan wondered the same thing, though somehow his confession didn't surprise her. She struggled not to reach for her sword and cut him down here and now.

“I am not young, Eveleen. I want to die with this made right between us. I will never have yer love, nor do I deserve it. But I would ask for yer forgiveness.”

Eveleen said in a choked voice, “Angus, Angus. What have ye done?” She turned to her daughter, sobbing, and Morrigan held her close.

Fergus said, “I'll take her inside, lady wife. Finish with yer uncle.”

Grateful for her husband's offer, Morrigan watched her mother and Fergus walk away. Then she faced her uncle. “I should run you through and be done with it. But then I'd be no better than you.” Another thought came to her. “What of Owyn? Does he share your change of heart? Is Keifer safe from him?”

Angus swiped his hand over his face. “He will obey me in this matter.”

“Then are you warning me to beware of Owyn?”

“I don't know how my son feels. I've not seen him yet. But he may very well want what should be his—leadership of the clan. If so, then Keifer is not safe.”

Morrigan should feel compassion for the man. He'd done a brave thing today, confessing to Eveleen. To her. But try as she might, she couldn't soften her heart enough to invite him in for food and drink. “I thank you for the warning.”

With a nod, Angus Macnab turned and mounted his horse. As he rode away, Morrigan hoped it would be the last time she laid eyes on him. She didn't trust him, couldn't trust him or Owyn. Keifer must remain at Moy.

And when the boy was older and Seamus had taught him all he could of fighting as a highlander, then she would send Keifer to train as a knight. It might be the best way to ensure his safety—ensure his training was second to none. And far superior to Owyn's.

She would discuss it with her husband.

SOLACE. ANGUS SOUGHT SOLACE as he poured himself another goblet of whiskey. What had possessed him to go crawling to Eveleen and beg her forgiveness?

He emptied the glass, and the burning of the drink matched the pain in his heart.

No! He didn't feel pain. Wouldn't feel it. She was nothing to him, never had been. She was his brother's widow. Nothing more. Except that Ian had died at Angus's hands. An accident. He'd told her the truth today and it hadn't made any difference. She'd pushed him away, just as she'd chosen Ian over him all those years ago.

He poured another drink. Forgiveness. Why had he expected it when he'd never forgiven himself?

No hope now. Might as well see it through. She wouldn't speak to him, couldn't stand the sight of him. He was already damned in her eyes and God's. What was one more death? All Angus had to do was find Keifer. He could leave tomorrow and no one would be the wiser.

He rubbed his eyes. How could he even consider such a thing? 'Twould only bring Eveleen more pain and leave no chance for her to ever forgive him. Ian had been dead for a dozen years, and the lie had stood between them all that time. Maybe now that he'd confessed he would be rewarded with a second chance with her. Yes, there was a chance. Hope. He had to keep his chin up and off the tavern's table.

Resolute, he set the spirits aside. He would bide his time. He'd waited this long for Eveleen MacTaggert. A few more years wouldn't make much difference.

FIVE

Castle Moy, 1320

A
DAM LOOKED UP AT THE SOUND of the knock on the solar door. Gwenyth didn't wait for his nod but strode into the room holding a knife as if she held a distasteful rodent by the tail.

But it was not a mouse, it was a knife. And not just any knife. The handle wrappings clearly identified it as Keifer's.

Adam laid down the household ledger he'd been going over and gave his full attention to his wife. She stood in front of his desk and held the object out to him. He took it. The unsheathed metal gleamed in the light, unprotected.

Adam shook his head. “Where is the cover?”

“A good question, one I should like to ask the knife's owner. I came upon young Rob just as he plucked this weapon from the trestle. Why was it left to lay there?”

Adam came out from behind his desk to stand next to Gwenyth. “Is Rob all right?”

“A nick on his thumb. Next time we may not be so lucky.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “ 'Tis the second time this week he let it lay, isn't it?” Adam blew out a breath. “I'll speak with Keifer again.”

“You may speak all you like. He'll be scrubbing trestles with the kitchen maids for the next week, after I've had my say.”

“Aye, do that. Perhaps it will help him to remember. I'll keep the knife until such time as Keifer shows a bit more responsibility.”

Gwenyth sighed. “Are we doing the right thing, fostering him?

Perhaps he should have stayed with his family. Fosterage isn't right for every child. Sometimes he seems so lost.”

“Aye. Perhaps so. But Keifer is safer here, especially now that his uncle has been released. We must remember that the boy has had a hard time, losing his father so young. Who knows how that might affect a boy?” Adam had been an adult when his own father died, and yet there were still times when he missed the man keenly.

He continued. “As I recall, I tested my own father on more than one occasion. All in all I think Keifer's acting like a normal fourteen-year-old boy.”

“Then we have this to look forward to with our own sons?”

Adam grinned. “I'm afraid so. This and more. We can only do our best, Gwenyth. And pray for patience.”

“So, you rebelled against your father's rules?”

Now Adam laughed out loud at the memories of his arguments with his father. “Oh, aye. Had my bum caned more than once. We can train Keifer in the way he should go, but in the end, he must make his own choices.”

“Then we must pray that God will be with him when we aren't there to guide him.”

“ 'Tis all any parent can do, my love.”

SNOW FELL IN BIG SOFT FLAKES as Nola watched the bailey from her upstairs bedchamber. Her father had sent a messenger to let them know when he planned to return from Berwick, where he'd gone to meet with the king and other nobles. The big snowflakes had begun an hour after the midday meal, and now a thin white blanket covered the ground.

Da and Keifer had been gone for nearly a month, and Nola had missed them both. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and Nola prayed the weather wouldn't delay the travelers. Christmas Eve was her favorite day of the year. They would all tramp through the woods gathering greenery to decorate the hall. And Da would help them search for the perfect Yule log.

Nola closed her eyes and prayed. Every few minutes she opened them to scan the bailey. As the afternoon light began to wane, so did her hopes. But she kept praying.

A loud shout and the clatter of horses' hooves awakened her from prayer turned to a nap. Snow had piled against the wavy glass of the window, but she could make out two familiar figures dismounting below.

“Da! Keifer!” Nola banged the shutter closed and raced from her room and down the stairs. She found her mother and brothers in the hall. Mama struggled to put warm mantles on James as the excited little boy squirmed. Nola grabbed Tom and Rob and pulled them back. “It's cold; put your coats on.” Nola tugged her cape over her shoulders and they all went outside.

Da strode toward them, and when they met, he knelt in the snow and embraced all four children in a warm hug. He smelled of clean air and the outdoors.

He stood up with James, the youngest, in his arms, and for a moment Nola wished she were still small enough to be lifted so. Da faced Mama and kissed her.

“Welcome home, husband. We are anxious to hear the news you bring. Come children, let your da go in where it is warm.”

Searching through the snow-filled air, Nola asked, “Where's Keifer, Da?”

“He's seeing to the horses.”

“I'll help.” Nola raced off to the barn and found Keifer rubbing down Da's horse.

“Welcome home, Keifer!” She grabbed some straw and began to work on Keifer's gelding.

“You don't have to do that,” he said.

“But if I do, we can go in where it's warm and you can tell me all about your trip. Was it wonderful? Where did you stay? Did you see the king?”

“Whoa. One question at a time.”

She stopped rubbing the horse's hide and with a sigh said, “I wish I could have gone, too.” She resumed working on the horse. “Tell me everything. No, hurry up with the horses and let's go in where it's warm. My fingers are frozen.”

“If you'd taken time to find your gloves—”

“Don't scold. You sound like Da.” That always quieted him. Keifer didn't want to be like her father, for some reason.

Keifer fetched water for the beasts while Nola sat on her hands on a bale of straw.

“Are you almost done?” she asked when he came back with a second pail.

“Let me give them hay and then we can go in.”

She jumped up from her seat and followed him while he fetched the hay. “Oh, I can't wait. Tell me one thing right now. The best thing.”

He placed the hay in the stall. “The best part of the trip?”

“Aye.”

He stood with his fingers tapping his cheek. “Let's see now. The best thing.”

Nola smacked his arm. “Stop teasing!”

“Actually, the negotiations with England are stalled again, so not much was accomplished.” He closed the door to the stall and they started walking toward the keep.