Page 9 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
“In the meantime, she is our guest and, if she wishes, she may join our healer and tend the garden.”
Hugo huffed. “Has it occurred tae ye that she might bring trouble on our heads? I daresay ye dinnae ken that some clan chief may take it badly if he was content his daughter was with the nuns. Ye ken that many lairds see a daughter taking holy orders as a great blessing and something that could bring great good fortune tae a clan.”
Everard nodded. “I’ve given it some thought. It has occurred tae me that I could travel tae Iona meself and enquire if they are missing a novice. But I’m reluctant tae dae so, as I would then be unwittingly giving away that she is likely at Kiessimul.”
“So ye dae admit there may be trouble following?”
“I was doubtful. But those two ruffians who questioned me before we sailed convinced me that the danger she spoke of was real enough. Two menwerepursuing her, there’s nae doubt of it. So, the question comes tae mind: ‘Why would two rough men hunt a wee lass who has fled the convent?’
Hugo gave a reluctant nod. “I see where ye’re going with this. There is something more afoot. We may be bringing trouble tae Kiessimul whether ye like it or nae.”
Everard greeted this remark with a shrug. “Come now, Hugo. Ye’re nae afraid of a little trouble, are ye?”
Hugo’s only response was another huff.
“The MacNeil War Chief, me brother Maxwell, and his wife will be visiting tomorrow. We’ll talk wi’ him about this and obtain his opinion.”
The morning sun was bright despite the chill in the air as Everard descended the stairs from the keep into the courtyard.
He’d considered Hugo’s words before falling asleep and they’d left him with strange dreams of being under the sea, floating, watching the smiling face of a silkie maiden, who wound herdark tresses around him and tugged him into the deep. He’d woken with a start, his thoughts immediately flashing to Davina.
Whatever her story might be, he would find out soon enough. He had no wish to pry into her lost memories. They would return when the time was right. Meanwhile, he was to meet his brother and sister-in-law arriving from their home on the island.
He glanced across the courtyard and glimpsed the little cottage that had been made available for Davina. Hoping he might see her, he was rewarded by a glimpse of her, clad in a fresh kirtle, stooping to pick a snowdrop from the tiny scrap of earth that served as a garden near the front door of the cottage.
She did not notice him, so without wishing to disturb her, he kept on across the courtyard and through the gate. Strangely, his heart had started beating a little faster at the sight of her. She was like a dainty sprite with the morning sunshine bright in her hair as it trailed over her shoulders and down her back.
He hastened on, looking forward to the visit. He’d seen little of Maxwell and Aileen since their wedding three months prior. They were busy with the building of their fine stone house on the Isle of Barra and absorbed in the deep love they had found in each other.
The pair had not long returned from Dunvegan Castle and he wished to hear the news of his sister Raven, her husband Arne, and their new wean, Ulf, a wee boy only months old, brother to their other child, Thorsten.
As Everard reached the spillway, Maxwell was already tying their small sailboat to the mooring. He looked up and a wide grin split his face. Aileen waved from the boat and stepped lightly onto the jetty. It warmed Everard’s heart to see the happiness flowing from these two.
Aileen gave her brother-in-law a warm hug, while Maxwell greeted him with a slap on his back and an energetic shake of his hand.
“Come, let us break our fast in the Great hall. I wish tae hear all the news from Dunvegan.”
“And I wish tae hear all there is tae tell about yer discussions with MacDougall and the MacKinnons when ye were on Mull.”
Everard nodded. There was much more to tell them about that eventful visit to the Isle of Mull.
After they’d broken their fast with lavish helpings of porridge with honey and cream, a dish of fried salmon, followed by flat-bread and raspberry jam, all washed down with warm mead, it was time to speak of his business on Mull.
Maxwell grew thoughtful as Everard related the details of his discussion with MacDougal.
“Is the man tae be trusted?”
Everard laughed. “Nay. Of course, he’s nae tae be trusted. But it is in his interests tae keep the peace wi’ us, as he has nae wish fer his ships tae come tae harm. He well understands that we have some influence with the privateers and, although they’ll nae touch his ships, they’ll take the bounty from the French and the English ships carrying the goods he’s paid fer.”
This was a constant thorn in MacDougall’s side. While he was occupied with smuggling wine and other goods from France and Europe, they were rich pickings for the privateers who were under the Scots King’s protection. Once the cargo was in the hands of the privateers, MacDougall’s business of smuggling was a loser.
Maxwell couldn’t contain a chuckle. “And MacKinnon? He’s nae bothered by the privateers?”
“I didnae speak with the laird but with his son, Tòrr MacKinnon. He’s a sensible lad, nae a hot-head like his faither. Yet the MacDougalls and the MacKinnons are allies.”
Maxwell nodded. “Hmm. So, if we have trouble with Alexander MacDougal, we can also expect trouble with the MacKinnons of Mull.”
“Aye.” Everard poured them each another cup of mead. “And that brings me tae another matter altogether concerning me visit tae Mull.”
