Highland Chieftain (9 page)

She had absolutely no idea how, but said, “Weel, that is convenient.”

Once done with his food, he took her hand in his, and asked, “Will ye introduce me to the boys?”

“Oh! I am sorry I didnae do that. Just thought they had introduced themselves.”

“Nay, they just burst in and told us what was happening. Then ye arrived.”

She sat up and signaled the boys to come over to the pallet where they lined up nicely. “Ye ken Colin, aye?” Callum nodded and shook the boy's hand. “He is the eldest at sixteen. Bean stands next to him and is fourteen. Then there is Liam, the boy with all the freckles, who is twelve. Gavin is next at ten. Georgie here”—she rubbed the boy's head—“is newly turned eight. Magnus is six and has a knack for recalling whatever he has seen. Then there is your Cathan.”

They were a varied lot. Colin looked most like Bethoc even if Callum knew they were not related, only his black hair was straight. Bean was fair-haired and blue-eyed. Liam had red hair and brown eyes to go with his many freckles. Gavin was surprisingly handsome even at ten with his thick, rich brown hair and smoky gray eyes. Magnus was the sort of child who could get whatever he wanted with his curly blond hair and wide brown eyes set in the face of a little angel.

Bethoc had a fine horde of boys to care for, he thought. He also suspected they would stay with her until they were old enough to set out on their own and, even then, would not go far away. A man who took her on would have to take on the whole lot of them. It would be a daunting chore.

Yet Callum realized even that did not stop him from thinking of taking her with him when they finally cleared this mess away and he could return to his lands. What he really needed to think on was what he intended to do with her when he got there. There was something between them, something that pulled at him, but he was not sure what. Until he was, and knew in his heart what he could offer, it would be cruel to take her away from the only place she had called home.

One thing he was sure of was that he had never felt for another woman what he felt for her. He wanted to give her things, to take care of her, and keep her safe from the harshness of the world. He certainly had liked bedding her, gained more pleasure from it than he had ever had, even including his first time with that talented dairy maid. But more than that, he had no urge to get up, dress, and leave when it was done. In fact, he had dreams of waking up in the morning curled around her, waking her up slowly with kisses so that they could make love again in the early morning light.

Margaret appeared at the side of the pallet, went around to the side that was not wounded, and crawled on the bed. She inserted herself between him and Bethoc and settled down, closing her eyes. Bethoc said nothing, just idly played with the child's curls and sipped her cider. Nothing could make the situation clearer to a man than that. If he took Bethoc with him, he took on the whole family. It was another reason to be absolutely sure what he wanted before he gave in to impulse.

“They are gone,” said Robbie as he walked in and Bethoc held his food out to him. “Thank ye, lass.”

“Where do ye think they went?” asked Callum.

“My guess would be back into the village to have an ale. Got weary of going in circles trying to find the lads.”

“Ye dinnae think that is the last of them though, do ye?”

Robbie shook his head as he finished off his meal in a few bites and poured himself some cider. “Nay. They want something from the lass and they dinnae seem to be the sort to give up. I was thinking o'er it all but the only thing she has is that house and land.”

“Why do ye think they wanted something from me?” Bethoc asked. “They asked after Cathan, nay me. Weel, they did ask where the children had gone but I suspicion that was because they thought Cathan was with them.”

“Did ye hear everything they asked?”

“Weel, nay, I went into the trees and hid.”

Robbie just shook his head. “I think they wanted Cathan but I think they wanted more. Lad was at your house for a long time yet they ne'er came after him. Now they show up? For a lad who can gain them only a payment or two? One they think Callum has already taken back to Whytemont? Nay, there is more to this. And ye were the one who could get them more. The only more there is is your house and land.”

Bethoc frowned. “They cannae take that, can they?”

“I have nay idea but my gut says this is more.”

“More what?” asked Callum.

Robbie frowned, dragged his hand through his hair, and said, “I dinnae ken. Just more. More than killing that mon,” he added softly so the boys did not hear. “Doesnae have the taste of revenge. May just be Cathan but I begin to wonder if they have e'en given the boy much thought e'en though they asked after him. I cannae explain it. Just say I really feel this is more complicated than we believed.”

“Then we had best find out what the ‘more' is.” Callum scowled down at his leg. “I hate leaving this all to ye and Simon. Makes me feel useless.”

“Only lasts a while and then ye will be back on your feet ordering us all around again.” Robbie grinned. “Me and Simon can look about. Leave Uven here in case the men come sniffing round.”

“Thank ye,” muttered Uven.

“My pleasure. Nay sure what we can find or what we are looking for but could turn up something.”

“Just beware of those men. They may wonder what ye are about and attack.”

“We will ask enough about ye to have them thinking that is all we look for but, aye, a close eye will be kept on them.”

They tossed a few ideas around for a while but nothing very useful. It was going to be a search for something, some hint that could lead them to the truth of what was going on, and that was hard to make plans for. Robbie wandered off to make his pallet and lie down. Callum turned to speak to Bethoc and grinned.

At some point during all the talk, she had settled down next to Margaret and gone to sleep. The sight of her and the tiny girl curled up together caused a pang in his heart and he wondered why. As he awkwardly moved so that he, too, could lie down, he realized he was really going to have to sort out what was happening to him. He had, after all, seen many a woman and child curled up asleep and never felt such a pang, a longing. Finding her hand, he held it close and smiled. This was not as much fun as his dreams played out for him, but it would do.

Chapter Nine

The sight of the house broke Bethoc's heart but she steadied herself. She looked around before stepping out of the trees but saw nothing, neither the men who had killed Kerr nor an angry Callum. She had thought to bring Colin with her but had suspected he would protest such a move as much as Callum would. Knowing neither of them would like what she was doing did not make her stop, however.

She had slipped out of his bed before dawn had fully broken. It embarrassed her to think she had fallen asleep so thoroughly and done so in his bed. Only Margaret's presence had made it innocent. The fact that she had heartily wished it had not been all so innocent also embarrassed her. When had she become a wanton woman?

Assured no one lurked about the place, she hurried up to the house. The smell of death, of blood and pain, hit her hard. She stood in the doorway taking deep breaths for as long as she dared before stepping inside. Kerr was still strapped to the chair and he was a mess. They had taken not only his fingers and toes, but his ears and one eye before he died. He had not been a good man but no one deserved to die this way. She felt her stomach roil and fought to be strong.

She grabbed a blanket from the bed and was about to spread it out on the floor to place her father's body on it when she heard horses. Going to the door, she peeked out, relaxing when she saw that it was not the men who had butchered Kerr. It startled her when two men hastily dismounted and grabbed her. Bethoc stared at the officious-looking man who slowly dismounted and wondered what trouble she had stepped into now. He kept staring at her as he signaled a third man to go into the house.

“What are ye doing?” she demanded as they dragged her into the house.

“Looking at what ye have done,” the man leading them inside said. He looked at Kerr's body and then gave Bethoc a look of disgust even as one of his men ran outside gagging. “Ye couldnae just cut his throat?”

Bethoc was speechless with shock for a moment and then choked out, “I didnae do this.”

“Do ye see anyone else here?”

“I but came here to bury him! I couldnae abide the thought of him tied to the chair.”

“Burying is a good way of hiding what ye have done.”

“I didnae do this!”

“Yet ye were going to bury him.”

“Of course I was. He is dead. He shouldnae be left to just rot in a chair. He was my father.”

“Was he?”

“What do ye mean by that?”

“Seems he was fond of telling the world and its mother that your mother was already carrying ye when he wed her. 'Tis why they allowed a mon like him to have such a fine lass. Why they gave him this land. Said she finally gave him one bairn, a lass, and it wasnae ye he was talking about. So where are the others?”

“The others?” Bethoc felt a cold wave of fear, wondering why these men would care about where the boys were.

“All the laddies that run about here, working the land for this fool. The laddies he stole.”

“Ye kenned that? Ye kenned it and did naught?”

“And what should I have done? They were cast-off children. He did weel by them. And now this is how ye repay him.”

“Are ye nay heeding me? I didnae do this! Look at the mon. Do ye think I could wrestle him into that seat, tie him to that chair, and then do that to him? Do ye think I could even lift him?”

“Tell me where the others are,” he demanded, and grabbed her by the chin, his eyes fixed on hers as his men wrapped Kerr's body in the blanket she had put down.

“They ran away when the men arrived,” she said, beginning to think speaking to this man was akin to banging her head against a wall.

“What men?” he demanded and made a sharp gesture to signal his men to carry Kerr's body out of the house.

“The five who came here and killed Kerr.”

The man frowned. “The ones who heard the poor mon's screams and told us to come here?”

“A tall mon with a scarred face? Rode here with four others who looked nearly as rough as he did?”

“Aye. Those men and they sent us here. To catch a killer. Came to warn the sheriff like honest men should. Come along now,” he said even as he began to have her dragged out of the house by his men who had just returned.

“They lied! They were the ones who did this to him.” She tried to pull free of the men's hold.

“Cease, woman! Ye have been caught. Now we will take ye up for punishment.”

“Dinnae ye mean justice?” She knew the men had decided on her guilt but hoped to shame them into what they were supposed to do. “Ye are the sheriff and ken weel I deserve a trial, a chance to prove my innocence.”

“Ye will get the chance to tell us exactly what ye did,” said the sheriff. “No less.”

“Ye mean tell ye that I did it,” she snapped.

“Aye,” he said flatly. “Ye and nay other.”

Bethoc began to fight the hold they had on her like a wild thing. To her dismay, all the men joined in trying to hold her still. All the while she loudly denied killing Kerr, protesting her innocence over and over again. When they tied her hand and foot and tossed her over the back of a horse, she was still protesting. They gagged her with a barely clean cloth, the sweaty smell of it making her want to vomit. Only her fear of choking held her back, even as the men mounted their horses and rode back to the village, adding more abuse to her uneasy stomach.

She thought briefly of Kerr. They had taken his body although she had no idea why. She dreaded the possibility that the boys would return and see the blood left behind. And a part of her, the one that had lived in the man's house for so many years, felt sad that no one was burying him. Or that they might never know where he was buried.

Once at the jail, she was dragged inside and the sheriff sat at a table. The officious man calling himself the sheriff demanded that she confess to what she had done as he tore the gag off her mouth. Bethoc yet again swore that she had not touched Kerr. He nodded and mumbled something about changing her mind. That did not sound good, she thought, and sat tensed and ready for trouble. She heartily wished she had told Callum where she was going.

* * *

“Where is Bethoc?” Callum demanded, walking cautiously as he tested the leather boot without a foot that Colin had strapped to his leg.

“I think she went to bury Da,” said Colin. “I saw her slip away.”

“And ye didnae stop her?” Callum could not hide his shock.

“They had already killed the mon. What more could they do? I kenned they must be gone by now.”

“I dinnae ken what else they might try to do, but they also asked after all of ye. They could decide to look about the house themselves, to see if they missed something, since they had lost your trail.” He felt bad when the boy turned pale but he had no time to coddle him now. “Robbie, I need to go after Bethoc.” Callum held on tightly to his fear, keeping it under control, and patted Colin on the back. “I will get her back,” he promised.

Robbie brought Stormcloud and his mount to the cave. “I will ride with ye.”

Callum opened his mouth to argue, took one look at his friend's face, and shut it. Robbie had that determined look on his face. It meant there would be no moving him in his decision. It could be annoying but Callum suspected it was what had saved him when he was a small, much abused child. He quietly followed the man as Robbie carefully moved the horses through the opening to the cave.

The ride to where they assumed Bethoc's home was took longer than Callum liked. Since he did not know where she lived, and Colin's directions were not easy to follow, he could not really complain, no matter how much he wanted to. When the small cottage appeared, he tensed. The door was wide open and it gave him a bad feeling. Callum told himself it was just because she had rushed inside but he could not shake his unease.

He stopped in front of the house and dismounted cautiously. Robbie was already striding into the house as Callum grabbed his walking stick to follow him. The chair and the blood surrounding it was the first thing that caught their eyes.

“This is where they tortured and then murdered the mon,” Callum said.

“Then they took him off with them.”

“Them?” he asked Robbie.

“Aye. More than one horse was here. Lots of tracks and footprints. Think one set of them might be your lady's.”

Callum immediately went outside to study the ground. The closer he looked the more alarmed he became. There had been at least three men and some sort of struggle had taken place. Then the prints he had judged to be Bethoc's disappeared.

“I think they have taken her, too, Callum,” said Robbie.

“But
who
has taken her?”

“Weel, I am fair certain it isnae the men looking for ye. I suspicion she has been taken up by the magistrate's or sheriff's men, or whate'er passes for the law round here.” He clapped Callum on the back. “We can follow the trail. They made no attempt to hide it.”

“Aye. If we hurry we can see who has her.” Callum went to his horse and sighed as he had to have Robbie help him into his saddle. “E'en if it is the law, we cannae leave her in their hands for long.”

The ride into the village was another too-long trip that left Callum annoyed. There was no sign of the men who had taken Bethoc. He feared they were wrong, that it was the men who had attacked him. The only thing that stopped him from immediately believing that was that they had not found Bethoc's body and he was certain those men would have tortured and killed her in their attempt to find him. He resolutely ignored the little voice that whispered they could have taken her elsewhere.

To his consternation, but also relief, the trail led straight to the sheriff's. As Robbie helped him dismount, Callum considered the approach he needed to take. Despite how much he wished to simply demand Bethoc's return, he knew he would accomplish more by being cautious in word and deed. Taking a deep breath, he prayed for strength and followed Robbie into the sheriff's.

* * *

Bethoc had been sore by the time the horse stopped and the rough way she had been brought to the cell had not helped. The way they had dragged her into the stone building, down some narrow steps, and along a hall to the cells had given her no chance to ease her aches and pains. A bundle of rags huddled in the corner of one of those cells caught her eye but, before she could look closer, she had been dragged around a corner and thrown into a cell. A quick look around as she pulled herself to her feet revealed that she was all alone. A shiver went down her spine.

“Now, perhaps ye will tell us why ye killed your father,” said the sheriff.

“Do ye nay ken? I have said, and I will keep on saying, I didnae do it.” She fought to keep her voice quiet and calm when she had the strong urge to scream at him in fury.

“Weel, we will have to see what ye have to say about it all, later.” He looked at the man behind him. “William?”

“Aye, sir.”

The man who stepped forward made Bethoc bite back a gasp. He was huge with a wild mop of brown hair, and muscles so big she was surprised he could move. The way he stepped into her cell showed that he could move just fine and the barrel he brought in proved his muscles were not just for show, either. Bethoc heard a splashing noise and knew it did not bode well for her.

“See that she tells us the truth,” the sheriff said.

“I am telling ye the truth. I—didnae—kill—him.” The sheriff started to walk away and she ran up to the bars of her cell. “All ye have to do is think for a moment on what it would take to subdue Kerr Matheson and ye would ken full weel that is wasnae me!”

The sheriff and his men did not even hesitate in their walk away from her. She cursed and turned around only to find William standing there. It took all of her willpower to stifle a scream when he grabbed hold of her. She struggled with all of her strength but it was of no more worth than a fly struggling in a spider's web.

He approached the wide-topped barrel and she realized it was full of water. Before she could protest, he flipped her around so that she was upside down, and did it so quickly and neatly, she knew he had had a lot of experience. With her hands tied Bethoc could do little to fight him but she tried anyway.

“Huh,” he grunted. “Braies. Takes all the fun out of me work.”

She opened her mouth to call him a depraved fool only to shut it fast and take a deep breath as he plunged her into the water. Bethoc went still, concentrating fiercely on just holding her breath for as long as she could. Despite all of her efforts not to, she began to thrash as her lungs ached with the need to take in some fresh air. He pulled her up just as she lost the fight and then held her upside down as she coughed out the water she had swallowed.

“Ye ready to confess?” he asked.

“Aye,” she gasped out. “I didnae kill Kerr Matheson.”

“Ah, lass, I dinnae think that is what the sheriff will be wanting to hear.”

He dunked her in the water again and again she gave the same answer to the question. His calm manner never changed and that infuriated her. It was a useless rage for it changed nothing.

By the fifth time she was put into the water she was sure she would drown. She could not hold her breath any longer. She was exhausted and her body ached from rough handling. When the water flooded in as she gasped for air, Bethoc thought of Callum, of how she would never see him again, and then wished she could kill William. He pulled her out and she hung limply from his grasp. When he set her on her feet and she collapsed, retching painfully as her body fought to rid itself of water, she wondered how long she could endure this. Rolling away from the mess she made, she began to slip into unconsciousness, and welcomed it.