Page 17 of Highland Crown
“Quiet,” Cinaed barked.
But the lad only cried out louder. With a determined sigh, Cinaed pushed the lad’s face into the sand for a moment. That was enough to frighten him into silence.
“What will it be, Jean?” Isabella asked softly. “We can’t stay here all day. Others are sure to come.”
The old woman nudged the dead man with the tip of her shoe, a look of sadness and resignation on her face. Crouching beside the body, she took Isabella’s wedding ring out of Habbie’s pocket. Then, without ceremony, she pulled the knife from his chest and wiped it clean on his jacket.
“No point in wasting anything of value on this one,” she murmured. “I’ll just tidy up my home afore we go.”
Relief washed through Isabella. No one could have foreseen the series of events they were dealing with. As it was, trouble and death had found their way to Jean’s cottage door. Staying here was not a viable option.
John Gordon would surely see that when they all reached Inverness. The man was capable enough to handle the details for spiriting three fugitive women out of the country; he’d know what to do for his aunt. And he could find a place for this one to recover. Perhaps the captain had his own people in the port.
As Jean started for the front of the cottage, she gave the knife to the ship’s master and placed the ring in Isabella’s palm.
“Ye better be killing me too, ye auld witch,” the boy cried, talking tough to Jean, since she was the only one of the three that he might be able to handle. “I’ll tell everyone what ye done to Habbie. Ye won’t be getting away with this, hear me?”
Isabella had raised a sister and a stepdaughter from the time they were slightly older than this boy’s age. Putting aside their education and the life of privilege they’d grown up with, neither of the girls were reckless. They both were thoughtful and shrewd when it came to danger. She’d witnessed Maisie and Morrigan’s behavior since they’d fled their home. And they were anything but stupid.
“Have at it. Kill me too. I’d fancy seeing ye hang for it.”
This one, Isabella thought, was stupid.
As the captain shook his head, she saw the tug of a smile that quickly disappeared, replaced by a frown. He seemed as amused as he was unimpressed with the foolish whelp squirming beneath his knee. She imagined he’d commanded many boys as young as this one aboard his ship. And she was glad that he was in control of his temper and not about to give the lad his wish.
Cinaed called to the older woman before she rounded the corner. “What should I do with him?”
She paused and then shrugged, looking from Isabella to the captain. “The lad’s right. Two killings amount to the same thing. Ye’d best cut his throat. They can only hang ye but the once.”
CHAPTER6
So shall he strive, in changeful hue,
Field, feast, and combat, to renew,
And loves, and arms, and pipers’ glee,
And all the pomp of chivalry.
—Sir Walter Scott, “Marmion,” Canto V, Introduction
“Youtoldhim to kill the lad.”
“Go on. Say it again. Just keep on accusing an auld woman unjustly,” Jean argued. “Ye two are the ones running from the law. I’ve got no say in what ye do or don’t do.”
Listening from behind them in the cart, Cinaed had already learned the doctor’s name was Isabella Murray. He knew she was married, for the two women had argued fiercely about a wedding ring that Jean would not accept from her as some sort of payment. There was no discussion of any husband, however.
He shifted his body slightly to look over his shoulder at her. She was a bonnie thing, and he couldn’t let go of their time in the woodshed. She must have dragged him there by herself. And there was the moment when he’d known she was frightened. He’d so much wanted to hold her, to tell her he wouldn’t let the blackguard in the cottage hurt her.
“It was ruthless of you even to say the words,” Isabella retorted.
Jean flicked the reins just to keep the broken-down cart horse from wandering off the coast road. The journey had been slow, but since the old woman’s cottage was on the Inverness side of Duff Head, at least they didn’t need to go through the village in the stolen cart. Still, Cinaed was watchful of anyone following them. So far, he’d seen no one.
“Ruthless? Bah!” Jean scoffed. “Do ye truly have no idea how to put the fear of God into bold lads? That scrawny cur was showing no respect for his elders at all.”
“And you don’t think ordering the boy killed was a bit much?”
“Killed? Killed by who?” Jean asked in a mocking tone. “Ye wouldn’t kill anyone if they were ready to cut yer throat. And there’s no way that man sleeping back there would have killed the boy either.”
