Chapter 8

Slayer sat at one of the tables in the longhouse staring at Rory, a short, wiry man who had no trouble providing answers to his many questions. He talked without being threatened, beaten, or prodded. The problem was Slayer didn't know if it was truth or tales that the man spoke. He glanced at Angus and John, who stood behind Rory, and one shrugged and the other shook his head.

Angus had told Slayer upon his arrival that they barely laid a hand on Rory, and that he talked and talked, not only answering their questions but providing them with information they never asked. The problem continued to be whether the information Rory was telling them was the truth or nothing more than a tall tale.

"He was an old man, old, lots of gray hair and endless wrinkles," Rory said, repeating the description of the man he heard talking about poisoning Lord Bannaty for the third time, and he shook his head. "But he was spry, able to get around good. I tell you the truth, my lord. I would not lie to you."

"Yet you add something to what you tell me each time you repeat it," Slayer said and saw that Angus and John nodded, agreeing with him.

"Because I recall something and I want to make certain I tell you it all correctly," Rory insisted, eyeing the jug of ale on the table. "I probably would recall more if I was not so parched, my lord."

"Or would your information become that more elaborate after having some ale?" Slayer asked, then downed the remaining ale in his tankard and refilled it from the jug on the table.

Rory licked his lips. "Nay, my lord, I tell you the truth. I swear to you that I tell you the truth."

"So, this man who you heard talk about poisoning my father is old with wrinkles yet spry," Slayer said, trying to find some consistency in the man's words that might prove to be lies since he found through years of questioning prisoners that lies were often elaborated on whereas the truth was told more simply.

"Aye, old he is, very old, but gets around good, though slow so no one pays him much heed," Rory said. "He was gleeful about his part in the poisoning and boasted how easy it had been to accomplish the deed without ever meeting Lord Bannaty or stepping foot past the castle wall."

Slayer sat forward on the bench and glared at Rory. "Mind how you answer me next, Rory, for if I find you lied, I will cut out your tongue so you can never lie again."

Rory locked his lips tightly and nodded vigorously.

"Are you saying this old man admitted to being the one who poisoned my father, yet he had never met him?" Slayer asked, finding that difficult to believe.

Rory spoke fast. "I cannot say that for sure since he never admitted that it was him who did the deed. I can only say what I heard and how he seemed to boast about it."

If Rory spoke the truth, then it was at least a lead Slayer could follow, which was more than he presently had, but if it was a lie, he would be wasting his time.

"This other man found dead," Slayer said, "how do you know him?"

"Jeb was a loner. He didn't pay much attention to anyone."

"Tell me why a stranger would confide in Jeb about poisoning my father."

Rory shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe a need to boast before he ran off."

"And this man said nothing about why he poisoned my father?"

Rory scratched his head. "I think he said that your father deserved it."

"You think he said that?" Slayer snapped, annoyed at what he was beginning to think were endless lies.

Rory took an anxious step back and bumped into Angus and John, who pushed him back to where he'd been standing.

Rory clasped his hands together, twisting them nervously as he spoke. "It was hard to catch all of what the two men said since they whispered at times. So, I caught only a few words clearly."

Frustration with the man had Slayer pounding the table with his fist. "Did you hear anything clearly or did you make assumptions on the whispered words you heard?"

"I may have added one or two words," Rory admitted.

"Bloody hell!" Slayer roared. "You will tell me again all you heard and this time only what you heard not what you assumed you heard, or I will take my fists to you myself."

* * *

"A waste of a good morning,"Angus said when midday arrived, and Rory was finally returned to his cell. "You cannot tell if any truth spills from that man's mouth."

"Well, at least we know blood does," John said and rubbed his red knuckles. "Though the earlier punches did little good. He continued to tell the same tale, elaborating even more on it every time he told it." He shook his head. "Torture would be wasted on him since his tale would probably grow along with the torture."

"Something doesn't seem right. He will remain a prisoner and continue to be questioned until somewhere in all of his senseless rambling we can discover a germ of truth," Slayer said.

"We will see to it, my lord," Angus said with a firm nod.

The door to the longhouse opened and a warrior hurried in a bit out of breath and rushed to the table where Slayer sat.

"I have important news, my lord."

"Sit, Ogden," Slayer ordered and nodded at an empty tankard. "Quench your thirst before you tell me." He then looked at Angus and John and nodded to the door and the two men left.

Ogden downed the entire tankard of ale without stopping, then dragged his sleeve across his mouth before saying, "Thank you, my lord. I needed that."

"Have more while you tell me the news." Slayer pointed at the jug of ale for the man to help himself.

Slayer had sent warriors far and wide to speak to his many contacts and learn whatever they could, not only about his father and brother's deaths but also about the Murdock sisters. So, he was eager to hear what news Ogden had for him and pleased that his warriors were finally returning with news.

Ogden spoke as he filled the tankard. "This news comes from those you know in the Lowlands. It seems that years ago, there was a group of Lowland women who helped women in trouble, women who gave birth to unwanted bairns for one reason or another. These women found homes for the bairns in the Highlands so they would be safe and no one could find them. It turns out that someone is searching for a female taken at birth and given away who belongs to a prominent, aristocratic family from the Lowlands. It is not known who searches for her or why."

"Two different reasons could be made for why someone searches for the now grown woman, the most prominent being that she is the sole heir of a sizeable fortune. Or she is an obstacle to someone inheriting a fortune," Slayer surmised, concerned by the news.

"Your friend did mention a dispute amongst a prominent family," Ogden said.

"I sense there is more you have to tell me, Ogden."

Ogden nodded and took another swallow of ale as if needing to fortify himself before he spoke. "Chieftain Norris and his wife took in three of those unwanted bairns and raised them as their own."

Slayer took in the shocking news, thinking of what it meant and the possible ramifications. "That would mean the Murdock sisters are not sisters after all."

"Aye, my lord," Ogden said, agreeing.

"You are to keep this to yourself, Ogden," Slayer ordered.

"I have not said a word about it, my lord, nor will I."

"I will let you know if I need anything more from you," Slayer said and left the longhouse.

He mounted Skell ready to return to Sky, his thoughts consumed with the startling news and if he should share it with anyone just yet, even Sky. She would have to know sooner or later. But was it better to wait or to tell her?

This news would change so much for her. To find out that her parents are not her true parents, and her sisters are not her true sisters could devastate her. But the news could also offer a plausible reason as to why someone wanted one of the Murdock sisters dead. It was a lead that could possibly help solve the baffling mystery.

Decisions normally came easily and quickly to him, so why he continued to debate whether to tell her the news or to wait as he rode annoyed him.

* * *

Sky stoodwith pride looking over the garden. She had pulled endless weeds that had been stifling the growth of the fresh sprouts and had carefully hoed and raked the entire garden until she got it into pristine shape. It looked wonderful and would produce a good harvest, not that she would have the pleasure of harvesting it. She doubted they would spend the summer here, though she wished otherwise.

The thought saddened her, and she rested the long-handled hoe and rake against the side of the cottage, her task done. Her hands showed the signs of a day well spent in the garden, dirty and blistered, and in need of a good cleaning and gentle care. She could do both at the stream and visiting with her squirrel friends would help her smile to return.

She wasn't far from the stream when she spotted the doe she had shared the berry bush with earlier now busy munching on a shrub. She hadn't mentioned to Slayer that the doe carried a fawn and would give birth soon. She intended to keep watch on the doe to see that all went well for her and her newborn fawn or fawns, some does often birth more than one fawn.

Once at the stream, she plunged her hands into the chilly water and cringed, the blisters stinging, though not her wrists. They were healing nicely. As she carefully cleaned the dirt off her hands, her thoughts of the pregnant doe had her thinking that she could very well get pregnant soon herself. If Slayer's seed took root quickly, she could get with child before summer and deliver a bairn in the winter. The thought amazed and frightened her. She had not given much thought to having a bairn, thinking she would never wed. And no mothers in her clan had ever let her hold their bairns, so she had no experience with newborns. And without her sisters' help…

"How will I know what to do?" Sky whispered to herself, upset, and removed her hands from the water to dry them gently with the hem of Slayer's shirt she wore.

She caught the rustle of leaves and turned to see the squirrels nearby, but they did not approach her. They were scurrying up a tree away from her. That meant someone was close by. A sentinel or had Slayer returned?

"Sky!"

She smiled recognizing Slayer's powerful shout.

"I am by the stream," she called back.

"What happened to your hands?" Slayer demanded when he reached her and looked down to see them laying palms up in her lap, raw blisters on both.

She glanced up at him and grinned. "Remnants of my garden task."

She spoke with such pride in her blistered hands that he almost smiled but caught himself when recalling the news that he had yet to decide whether to share with her.

"Those blisters could use some honey," he said and without asking if she was finished at the stream, he stepped around her, slipped his hands under her arms, and lifted her to her feet.

When first meeting Slayer, she had been eager to look upon his face and when she was finally able to, his stoic expression left no room to know what he thought or felt. It was only recently that she began to catch the slight differences on his face and began to understand them.

Presently, his eyes held concern and hesitancy while his body was taut as if concealing something. He had something on his mind that she surmised he was reluctant to tell her.

That grew her anxious and she said, "You have something to tell me."

"I have some news," he said, not surprised by her remark since she knew he went to talk with a man who might have information. But it was not information she would ever expect. "We will talk once in the cottage."

The walk was a short one, but she grew more anxious with each step, endless worries racing through her mind at what he may have learned.

"Sit and I will get the crock of honey," he said once inside the cottage.

"Something is wrong. Please tell me, Slayer," she said, having worked herself into a fitful worry. "Has something happened to my da? My sisters?" She caught the slight rise of his brow when she mentioned her sisters. "Is it Leora? Did something happen to her?"

"I have received no word about Leora yet and Elsie is fine as is your da," he said and set the small crock of honey on the table, then pulled the bench around to sit closer to her at the table.

"Then what is it? Your hesitance to tell me is causing me alarm."

Sky's worry made the decision for Slayer since lies would serve no good purpose here. She deserved to hear the truth.

"This is not easy news, Sky, but you have a right to know," he said and began to explain. "News arrived from the Lowlands. Years ago, there was a group of Lowland women who offered help to women in trouble, women who gave birth to unwanted bairns for one reason or another. Homes were found for the bairns with families in the Highlands so they would be safe, and no one could find them. But the past has caught up to the deed and now someone is searching for a female bairn taken at birth and given away. It is believed that she belongs to a prominent aristocratic family from the Lowlands. Who searches for her and why is not yet known. Two varied reasons could be made for why the now-grown woman is of interest to someone. The most prominent reason would be fear of what she could inherit, a fortune perhaps, if she were discovered. Or the need to find her so someone can inherit a fortune."

"What does this have to do with me?" Sky asked.

If she gave it thought, Slayer had no doubt she would have the answer for herself, though the disbelief or pain of such news might have her turning a blind eye to it.

He didn't wait, he spoke the words that would bring everything she thought she knew about herself crashing down around her. "Your da and your mum took in three of those unwanted bairns and raised them as their own daughters."

Sky's eyes turned wide, and she slowly shook her head at the shocking news. "It is not true. It cannot be true." She continued to argue against it. "It cannot be possible. It cannot be. My mum and da would never have kept something like that from me and my sisters. And Elsie and Leora are my sisters and my mum and da are my parents. Someone made a mistake." Sky sat staring but seeing nothing, her mind scrambling to try and make sense of what she'd been told.

Slayer remained silent, letting her be, letting her think through the alarming news. And feeling an unusual need to comfort her, when he never offered comfort to anyone, he took her hand and gently applied honey to her raw blisters.

His touch was tender and oddly enough comforting to Sky and the shock began to slowly dissipate, leaving her to absorb the ramifications of what it all meant.

"This means I truly do not have a family. My parents are not my parents, and my sisters are not my sisters." She shook her head. "Nay, my sisters will always be my sisters whether we share the same blood or not, and my parents as well. But this leaves me wondering who I truly am."

Tears began to surface in her eyes. Women's tears had once irritated Slayer, until he learned to ignore them, give them no credence, care nothing about them. Women either used tears to manipulate and get what they wanted or shed them out of weakness. Yet he thought neither of those when he saw the tears in Sky's eyes. Her tears upset him and caused an ache in his chest, and he wanted to spare her the pain, take it from her, and stop her suffering.

She rested her hand on his arm as one tear slipped out and rolled down along her cheek. "I know I did not lose my parents or my sisters, but why does it feel as if I suffer their loss?"

He had no answer for her just as he had no answer as to why he hurt so much for her. Why did he want so desperately to stop her suffering? It overwhelmed him and forced him to respond without thought. He stood, scooped her up into his arms and walked to the bed with her to sit and cradle her in his lap, holding her tight against him as if somehow his body could take the pain from her.

Sky pressed her face against Slayer's chest and let a few tears fall softly. She lingered there, feeling safe and comfortable and cared for, though Slayer would deny it. He was doing what he believed was his duty to her as a husband. But he would be wrong. She felt it in the way he kept her tucked close against him, in the way his arms restrained her not with force but with tender firmness, in the way he let her shed her tears on his shirt, and the way he rested his cheek on top of her head. He was there for her, trying to keep her pain at bay and letting her know she was not alone.

For a man who claimed he was unkind, not knowing if he could love, he knew how to comfort, and that revelation changed things for Sky. It meant that one day it was possible that he could at least come to care for her.

She lingered there letting the initial shock wear away and the pain of such news subside before she tilted her head back slowly to look up at him. "What else can you tell me about this?"

He wiped at her tear-stained cheeks with his thumb and though tears shined in her eyes, he was glad no more fell. He detested seeing her cry.

"I have so-called friends far and wide, learning long ago it was wise to know people in many places. They are mostly people who owe me favors, many of them large favors for what I have done for them. I have several of those so-called friends in the Lowlands. It helps to know what is going on there and it keeps me abreast of any matters that might affect the Highlands. One such person discovered this news."

"How can you trust what he says when you trust no one?" Sky asked, looking for anything that could prove the startling news was false.

"I do not trust him, but I know he would not report falsely to me for fear of what I would do to him if he did. He would only send me news that he confirmed beyond a doubt."

Her stomach roiled as she asked, "So, you believe that Elsie and Leora are not my sisters?"

"Not your blood sisters, but as you said yourself, sisters, nonetheless. You were raised together and as such have a bond that only sisters could have. It matters not if your blood does not run through each other's veins, it only matters that you care and love each other as sisters do. Ross and I are not brothers, but that does not stop me from thinking of him as my brother. We have shared things through the years that only brothers can, including my father and brother's deaths. He will always be a brother to me as your sisters will always be your sisters. I know this is difficult for you, but you will realize it for yourself soon enough." He raised his hand, his finger reaching for the corner of her right eye where a tear lingered, as if not sure if it should fall, and he brushed it away. "Besides, you are not alone. You will always have me. We will be together for the rest of our days until death parts us, wife."

He kissed her, not out of passion but out of need to comfort her.

It was a gentle kiss that Sky favored, and it was a kiss that to her sealed his words as a promise, that he would always be there for her.

When the kiss ended, she smiled softly and said, "You are kind."

"I am not," he insisted.

"I cannot deny what is in front of me."

"You do not see clearly," he admonished lightly.

Her heart skipped a beat, sure she had caught a slight turn of his lips, the start and quick ending of a smile that was near to being born, a playful one. "The animals have taught me to see more clearly than most."

He purposely frowned. "If it is the animals who you see clearly, then you must think me an animal?"

She gasped. "Never would I think that."

"But you said?—"

She pressed her fingers to his lips. "You twist my words."

He brushed her fingers away. "I heard them. They were clear."

Again, she thought she caught a smile so light that she could be mistaken, but she did not believe herself wrong. She wanted to believe he was being playful with her, trying to ease her pain.

"Perhaps you are right, husband, for if you are an animal, it will be much easier to tame you."

She saw it again, slight as it was, only this time his smile warned rather than teased.

"Some animals are too wild and vicious to tame, and I am one of them."

The sudden coldness in his voice and emptiness in his eyes should be enough for her to pay heed to his warning, but she didn't.

She rested her hand on his cheek, its warmth seeping into her. "Maybe, or maybe you never felt the touch of a hand gentle enough to trust."