Entrusted to a Highlander Page 23

  Purity realized then that she hadn’t seen her father in a while as well. “He may have already retired, Abbott Thomas.”

  “Then please give him my regards and tell him I truly enjoyed my time here, and I bid you both good-night and wish you a happy and fruitful life together.”

  “You want to check his bedchamber, don’t you?” Arran asked as he entered the keep with his wife still in his arms.

  “Would you mind?” she asked. “I just want to make sure.”

  “I want you completely relaxed and not worried about anything when we finally slip into bed together. So if seeing that your father is safely tucked in bed will alleviate your worry, then that is what we will do.” He nodded toward the hearth in the Great Hall. “At least we know where King and Princess are.”

  Purity looked to see King curled against Princess close to the hearth. They had filled themselves with food and attention and were sound asleep. She kissed her husband’s cheek. “You are a good husband.”

  He nibbled at her ear. “I’m going to be a wicked husband tonight.”

  His nibbles sent a shiver through her and she drew her shoulders up. “I love when you’re wicked.”

  “Then you’re definitely going to love me tonight, wife,” he whispered near her ear and nibbled along it some more.

  Purity almost regretted asking her husband to stop at her father’s bedchamber when he placed her on her feet. “A quick peek,” she said, wanting to return to his arms. She eased the door open and with the light of the blazing flames in the hearth it was easy to see the bed was unoccupied. She pushed the door all the way open and entered the room, her husband entering right behind her. She looked around, then turned to her husband, stating the obvious. “He’s not here.”

  Arran heard the concern in her voice and took her hand. “We’ll find him, then we’ll settle in our bedchamber for the night.”

  King and Princess came awake when some of the servants were asked when they had last seen the chieftain. Quiver soon joined them, having been in the kitchen with Iona as she finished up for the day.

  “The last time I saw the chieftain, he was talking to your father,” Quiver said to Arran, “but that was before nightfall. I’m not one to ask, since I spent a good portion of the time with Iona.”

  “With the guests gone and most everyone retired for the night, it’s difficult to find out who saw my father last,” Purity said.

  “Have you seen Freen?” Arran asked of Quiver.

  He blushed. “He retired to his cottage with a woman from the kitchen.”

  Arran turned an inquiring eye on his wife. “Could your father have—”

  “I am ignorant when it comes to my father and women,” Purity confessed.

  Arran scratched at the back of his head. “He’s either with a woman or has passed out somewhere due to drink.”

  Purity didn’t want to voice her own thought, but felt it necessary. “Or he’s been met with foul play.”

  “It’s the dark of night, searching for him will do little good. We can walk right by him and not see him,” Arran said, knowing it didn’t help soothe her worry any, but she needed to see reason. A search now would be senseless.

  “So I pray the night away that he is unharmed and morning will find him well?” she asked, uncomfortable with the thought. “What if he’s been harmed and needs help? What if morning is too late?”

  Arran wanted to kill his father-in-law, searching for the man on his wedding night was not what Arran intended. But if he didn’t, he’d find no peace with his wife tonight.

  “We’ll search,” Arran announced. “Quiver go get Freen. He will join in the search.

  It was a grumbling Freen who joined them a short time later and with the keep having already been searched top to bottom with no sign of the chieftain, they spread out to search the village.

  “You should wait inside,” Arran urged his wife.

  She shook her head. “I can’t sit and wait. I must help.”

  He didn’t argue with her. He knew it would be senseless. He did, however, order, “You will keep close to me.”

  And she did.

  It seemed they only started the search when Quiver called out, “Over here!”

  His anxious tone alone warned Purity whatever he had found wasn’t good.

  Arran grabbed her arm and held her from going any farther when they reached the barn and Quiver shook his head at him.

  “Stay here,” Arran ordered sternly.

  “No!” Purity protested. “He is my father and I will see for myself.”

  “It is better you don’t,” Quiver advised when Purity stepped forward.

  Her legs suddenly grew weak and for a moment she thought they wouldn’t hold her up. Thankfully her husband’s arm slipped around her waist and held her firm.

  “Let me see to this, Purity,” he said gently. “Believe me when I tell you that you want the last image you see of your father to be one you want to remember, not one you will regret.”

  Something told her to listen to her husband, and she nodded.

  He saw her to a bench near the barn and ordered Princess to keep watch on her, then he walked around back and saw Freen standing near a body.

  Freen shook his head. “His throat has been cut.”

  Chapter 24

  Purity hugged her cloak around her against the cold that invaded the air and settled over the land. It had been that way a week now—the day since her father died. She cast a glance to the woods, wishing she could take a wander there. She needed to clear her head and her heart. She hadn’t shed many tears for her father when he was laid to rest and she couldn’t say she missed him. She had lived the last five years without him and it had been the first time in her life she had felt at peace. It took returning home to realize just how much she had favored that peace she had found. Losing her father hadn’t been a profound loss since the man hadn’t shown an ounce of love or affection for her. What troubled and upset her the most was that she would never know why he felt no love for his only daughter. The reasons she had surmised continued to haunt as they had through the years. He wanted another son. He was ashamed of her deformity. He thought her weak. Now she would never know.

  It hadn’t helped that she and Arran had spent barely any time alone together since her father’s death. He’d been claimed chieftain immediately and had easily taken on the duties that went with it. He was in constant meetings with his brother and father and the various chieftains in the area. And arrangements were being made for him to meet with Brynjar. The evil man had yet to take his leave and Purity knew what her husband would tell him—leave or else.

  He had the support of the other clans, and Brynjar had few men with him. He’d be foolish to battle Arran and he didn’t strike Purity as a foolish man. Though, she wondered why he remained in the Highlands. He had to know what he came for was lost to him, so why remain? Had it been to kill her father for what Brynjar saw as betrayal to their agreement? And did he remain to seek revenge against the Clan Macara?

  She sighed, the endless questions causing more grief than her father’s death. She also didn’t like that she and her husband had not made love or been the least bit intimate this last week. She’d either been sound asleep when he came to bed or he’d fall asleep as soon as he got beneath the blanket. She didn’t like it. She missed, terribly, the intimacy they shared, the way they kissed throughout the day, the way his hand would wrap around hers, closing firmly to let her know he was there with her, always with her. The simple gesture reminded her of how much he loved her.

  She felt a bit guilty for thinking that way. Her husband had not only the duties of the clan to contend with but the three deaths as well. Her father’s murder had upset the clan, not all cared for the old chieftain but there was no argument that he always provided well for the clan and for that they’d been grateful. The concern was more that if the chieftain could be murdered who was safe among the clan.

  The pounding of horse’s hooves drew her atte
ntion and she watched as Royden came into view, dismounting with haste and tossing his reins to a young lad who had been given the chore of seeing to the care of visitors’ horses. He rushed up the steps and hurried inside.

  Something was amiss and with the way the days and nights had been going, she doubted her husband would have time to share the news with her. Or perhaps he purposely kept it from her thinking she had enough to handle with her father’s death.

  She recalled the stories Raven used to tell her about sneaking around and listening in when her father and brothers talked in the solar. She waved to Quiver. “Would you look after Princess and King? There is something I must see to.”

  Quiver smiled, always eager to keep watch over the two. She left them happily following along after Quiver, knowing he would take them to the kitchen for treats.

  Purity left her cloak on a peg by the door and hurried through the Great Hall. She approached the area by her husband’s solar cautiously and quietly, seeing the door set slightly ajar. She heard Royden and her husband’s voice and she crept ever so slowly around the door, positioning herself in the shadows next to it in case anyone barged out unexpectedly.

  “It’s a huge buildup of warriors,” Royden said. “I tell you he’s planning something.”

  “And you’re sure of this news?” Arran asked.

  “I’ve made sure to keep watch on Clan Learmonth. After seeing the advantage the area holds, I knew it couldn’t be ignored.”

  “The views,” Arran said, recalling to memory of visiting the place with his father.

  “It’s astounding how far you can see in the distance. Nothing can approach that keep without being seen from a distance. It will never suffer a surprise attack,” Royden said enviously.

  “Yet troops amass there,” Arran said. “Wolf released us, at a price, and our warriors he had taken captive. Why do that, then turn around and attack us again? I don’t think he’s that foolish.”

  “Then why amass his warriors?” Royden asked.

  Purity mouthed the same word her husband spoke.

  “Brynjar,” Arran said. “The man never goes anywhere unprepared. Wolf is taking no chances.”

  Silence followed for a moment and Purity knew Royden was giving Arran’s words thought.

  “But Brynjar has few men. There is no way he can attack anyone and expect to claim victory,” Royden said.

  “Maybe it isn’t victory he’s looking for,” Arran suggested. “Maybe he only wants his anger and power made known.”

  “He killed two men and now the chieftain. Isn’t that enough for him?”

  “That is what has been troubling me,” Arran complained. “Why hasn’t he claimed those kills? Brynjar purposely has boasted about everything he has done. He wants tales told about him. He wants his name to instill fear in people. So why hasn’t he claimed these kills?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Royden said.

  I have, thought Purity.

  “It’s a thought that has nagged at me and Purity has suggested the same. I dismissed it, but it won’t leave my thoughts. What if we’re looking at the wrong person for these murders?”

  “If not Brynjar, then who?” Royden asked.

  Purity was not good at hiding or sneaking. She was a grown woman not a child listening in on adult conversation. She rounded the solar door and entered the room. “Someone who wants something that he feels belongs to him.”

  “I thought the mention of your name might stop you from lurking outside the door,” Arran said with a quirk of a smile.

  Purity turned a scowl on him. “You did not know I was there.”

  “Your footfalls are light, I will give you that, but my ears are alert to all sounds even the slightest ones,” Arran said and chuckled. “Of course, it did help that your lovely fresh scent drifted in through the open door.”

  Purity walked over to where he stood by the hearth and reached out to swat him in the arm only to be grabbed by her wrist before she reached him and swung around to land against her husband in a tight embrace.

  “It’s been too long since I’ve held you close,” he said in a whisper that sent a tingle racing through her.

  “It’s been too long for many things,” she murmured.

  “Of which I will remedy tonight.”

  “You both know I can hear you, right?” Royden asked with a laugh. “So let’s be done with this discussion so you both can try to catch up with Oria and me in making bairns.” He laughed again. “You know I’m going to have more bairns than you, don’t you, Arran?”

  “I wouldn’t count on that. Perhaps my wife will deliver two to your one,” Arran challenged.

  That had Purity turning wide eyes on her husband. “If that is what you intend, then I would suggest you attend to your husbandly duties more often.”

  Her blunt remark and Arran’s shocked expression had Royden bursting out in hardy laughter. “You’ve met your match,” he managed to say through his laughter.

  “And then some,” Arran agreed and pressed his lips next to her ear as if he was kissing her, but whispered, “You’ll find how well I tend to my duties tonight.”

  The glint in his dark eyes and his smug smile told her that his remark did exactly what he intended—it turned her wet.

  “I’m going to make sure that passion stays in your eyes for the remainder of the day.” He kissed her cheek and kept her tucked close against him and looked to his brother. “Who else would feel he had lost something that belonged to him besides Brynjar?”

  “Wolf,” Royden said. “The Clan Macara is lost to him with your marriage to Purity.”

  It was what Royden didn’t say that doused Purity’s passion-filled stupor. “And if Wolf killed Arran then he could force a husband of his choosing on me and regain the Clan Macara.”

  “That would explain Galvin’s death,” Arran said, feeling the slight tremble in his wife’s hand as she rested it on his arm that coiled around her waist. The thought had upset her while it had angered him to think that the man who had caused him such misery these last five years could rob him of a life with his wife, the woman he had lost his heart to.

  “But what of the warrior and Orvin?” Purity asked. “What part do they play in this?”

  “Both could have discovered something this person didn’t want revealed,” Royden said and shrugged. “Though reason would still see Brynjar as the culprit.” He gave a nod to his brother. “It still does not sit well with him that Wolf was victorious in rescuing you and another prisoner and that several of his warriors were killed during that attack.”

  “True, but he would hold that against Wolf, not me, since he ordered the rescue,” Arran said.

  “Still, you and the other man were taken from him and Brynjar does not like when things are taken without his permission,” Royden said.

  “We have Brynjar, Wolf, or an unidentified person who could be the culprit,” Arran said.

  “The most dangerous one being the unidentified person,” Purity said. “You can’t stop who you don’t know.”

  A light rain forced Purity to remain in the keep. She kept to the Great Hall, watching various men march through to meet with her husband. Princess and King were content to sleep by the hearth. They had adapted well to their new home, though Purity envied King. He’d disappear at times and she knew he went into the woods to explore and hunt. Sometimes she missed her days in the woods, but then she’d think of Arran and knew she’d miss him far more.

  “Excuse me, mistress,” Iona said bringing Purity out of her musings to turn a smile on the young woman. “A traveling merchant is here and asks if you’d like to inspect his wares. Your father would chase him away, but he says he has some spices that would flavor the food nicely. He also says he’s a friend of George’s.”

  Purity hurried to her feet so fast she had King and Princess jumping up and they rushed to follow along with her to the kitchen and out the door to where the merchant waited. She was anxious to see the man since he could have a me
ssage from George for her.

  The rain had turned to barely a drizzle and King and Princess were quick to stay close to her when they spotted a man unfamiliar to them.

  “Good day to you, mistress, I’m Clive, and a friend to George,” he said with a broad smile. “He assured me you would be interested in what I have to offer you.”

  She looked over the man as he talked. His beard and sparse hair were the same white and gray mixture and wrinkles hugged the corner of his eyes. Both spoke of age, yet his blue eyes were sharp and intent, not missing a thing, and his body appeared fit.

  “And what do you have to offer, Clive?” she asked, wondering if she should trust him or not.

  “Spices that tempt the tongue and beautiful cloth finely weaved by talented hands,” he said with a chuckle to his words, then quickly lowered his voice. “And a message from a friend.”

  “Let me taste these spices you praise,” she said and stepped closer to him.

  Clive rummaged in his cart and produced several small sacks he sat on the cart’s seat. He opened one, holding it out for her to try. “George hopes you have fared well with the man Arran he met.”

  Purity’s worry eased some. Clive had to know George if he had that information. Still, she would be cautious. “You can assure George all is well. Arran is now my husband.” She dipped her finger in the sack and caught a small amount between two fingers to drop in the palm of her hand and examine.

  “Then please accept this spice as a gift for such joyous news,” Clive said, seeming far more pleased at the news than Purity would expect a stranger to be. “And I will be sure to share the wonderful news with George when I meet him at Stitchill Monastery.”

  “He has not left on another merchant journey?” she asked.

  Clive smiled and lowered his voice. “He’s no longer a merchant, but you knew that and were testing me to see if I truly know George.”

  “He’s made no mention of you,” she said cautiously and caught a small amount of the spice on the tip of her finger to place on her tongue. It had a pungent but pleasing taste.