six years ye have ridden with such beauty at your side yet ne’er touched the lass?”
“I swear to God I never have, even though, as she so often tells me, I can be a lecherous dog.” He smiled briefly when his father laughed. “What feelings I have for her are as a brother for a sister. Even if that were not true, ye would have naught to fear. The lass is better born than I, and legitimate, though her birthright’s been stolen from her. Howbeit, I can only tell the tale if she gives me leave to do so. ’Tis hers to tell.”
Farthing and Lord Magnusson joined Sine Catriona by the fire and shared a meal. When they were through, the older man asked her to relate her life’s story. It was only natural that he should wonder about her. She felt no qualms about telling him everything. They all sat far away from Lord Magnusson’s men-at-arms and the cart where Margot and her maid slept so that none could overhear and she quickly gave Farthing permission to tell all.
As Farthing began to speak she studied Lord Magnusson. The likeness between father and son was truly startling. No one regarding the pair would question from whose loins Farthing had sprung. Seeing Lord Magnusson confirmed an opinion she had long held. Farthing’s looks would age well. Lord Magnusson still held all that was needed to catch a maid’s eye.
“They stepped out of the wood one night, six years ago,” Farthing said. “Hungry and dirty they were, seeking warmth and a bit of food. When I gave it to them she told me what had driven three such young children into the wood.”
“And he told me what a rogue he was,” Sine Catriona said.
After sending her a brief admonishing glance he continued. “She told me her father and the twins’ mother were dead. Ah, and her grandmother. All dead by the hand of her mother, Arabel Brodie, and the woman’s husband, Malise—a cousin who took everything her murdered father had left behind—land, title, money, and wife. This cursed pair sought to place Sine Catriona and her brothers in the cold clay as weel.”
“Her own mother would allow such a thing?”
Sine Catriona briefly took over the tale-telling to explain how she had slowly realized that her mother felt nothing but hate for her. Arabel Brodie resented her daughter’s youth and that resentment had grown with the passing years. Then Sine had discovered that Arabel planned to rid herself of Sine and the twins. She had taken the twins and fled into the woods.
“With our deaths, she and Malise truly would hold all.”
She carefully watched Lord Magnusson as she nibbled at the remains of her meal. Although she did not think the man would cry them liars or fools, she was relieved to see anger harden his features. It was an incredible tale. She would understand if the man had some doubts, but it was clear he did not.
“But would no one have questioned where ye went?”
“Malise told everyone that we had been ailing and died. He even held a burial. I pray that the three shrouded forms he entombed were sheep, but he and Arabel had already killed three innocent people so…” She shrugged.
“The murdering bastard,” Lord Magnusson hissed.
“Ah, so ye have met my stepfather,” Sine murmured.
Smiling with honest enjoyment, he drawled, “Such a tart tongue. Aye, I have met Malise Brodie. He is a beast who parades himself as a mon. I could see the rot beneath his smile and fine manners, although I fear others could not. And his wife…” He choked to a halt, eyeing Sine a little warily.
“Please, dinnae think that you must restrain your tongue for my sake. I have disowned my mother.”
“Have ye now? I thought it was the privilege of the parent to disown the child.”
“I have decided to do it the other way around. In truth, m’lord, I may have slid from her body, but she is no mother of mine and never has been. She doesnae possess any maternal feelings at all. Nay, not even the natural softening any woman holds toward a child, any child. She plotted my death and that of my half brothers. She murdered our father. I will make her pay for that. Nay, she isnae my mother, despite what the law might say. I am but my father’s child.”
“Such strong feelings.” Lord Magnusson shook his head. “I believe ye, yet ’tisnae easy. A mother wishing to murder her own child?”
“She hates me and has done so from the start. From the moment of my birth I was put completely into the care of my father and grandmother. They sheltered me from most of my mother’s venom while they were alive. Carrying me within her womb marked my mother. Not much, but she bears each tiny mark as if it was some battle wound. She believes that I steal her beauty, as if I am some sorceress who sucks it away. ’Tis hard to explain.”
“Aye, but I can see it clear enough. She ages and ye are young. There is no real sense to all she might blame ye for, but she believes each charge. So, do ye mean to regain what has been stolen from ye and your brothers?”
“I do. For now I search for a mon who holds the soldiers and arms to aid me in my fight.”
“Farthing now has both,” Lord Magnusson said in a soft voice, then grinned at her surprise—a reaction echoed by Farthing.
“By the saints, so I do,” Farthing muttered, looking completely stunned by the realization.
“And will ye help me?” she asked him, sure that he would, but needing to offer him the choice.
“Of course, if my father permits.” He looked at his father. “After all, I am but the heir, not the master. And, God willing, I shallnae be for many years yet.”
“Fight away,” Lord Magnusson commanded with a smile. “The cause is a good one. S’truth, there are many about who would like to see that devious pair sent straight to hell. I fear it must wait just a wee bit longer though. My journey isnae merely for pleasure.”
Sine Catriona shrugged. “I have waited six years already. Patience is something I have in abundance.”
“At times,” Farthing murmured. Ignoring her scowl, he turned to his father. “Where do ye travel to?”
“To Duncoille. ’Tis but a half day’s journey from here.”
“Oh? And what is the purpose of this trip, Father?”
“To try and get my niece, Margot Delacrosse, a husband. I doubt that ye would recall the child from when ye lived with me, but that doesnae matter for ye will meet the lass tomorrow. She sleeps now, exhausted by the travel.”
“No match was made for her?”
“Aye, there was one, son, but the plague took the mon. A pity, for they were in love. Her dowry is small, but the mon I hope to wed her to is a bastard son. He may not have much of a choice, despite his rumored wealth and fair face. His father has many another legitimate son.”
“The lass isnae fair?” Sine asked.
“I see naught wrong with the child, but what is thought to be beauty is ever changing, Catriona, my lass. There are more brides than suitable grooms, so a poor, modestly bonny lass could be left aside. I will travel the length and breadth of the country ere I will allow that. She is a good girl, but more than that, she is all that remains of my wife’s family. It was dying out even before the plague struck.”
“Who do ye hope to match her with?”
“The bastard son of the fierce Red Logan himself. Now there is a clan to be allied with. Aye, I will be weel pleased to wed Margot to a Logan.”
Chapter 4
“Something ails the lad, William.”
William Logan smiled at his petite wife as she paced the solar. “A mon can have his moods.”
“True, but this is no mere mood. It has lasted since his return from the fair. Cannae ye speak with him? Our visitors are due at any time.”
Dropping a kiss upon her forehead, he