Page 60 of Tair

When the bastart stopped moving, and his heavy body went limp, Kiamh climbed off the bed and watched the corpse for a long moment to be sure he wasn’t feigning death. He then slipped out of the chamber, returned to the privy, and changed back into his robes. The bundle of fleece and clothes he placed in a basket, which he carried back to the chamber he was sharing with a young gardener.

Bruce sat staring at the hearth, just as Kiamh had left him.

After casting the garments, cloak and fleece into the flames, he tossed a charm into the hearth that made everything burn swiftly to ash. He then released the gardener from the spell that kept him frozen, and Bruce blinked sleepily at him, unaware he’d left the chamber.

“Shall we sleep?” the younger man asked, yawning the last word.

Kiamh politely bedded down on the floor beside Bruce’s pallet, which was better than the days he’d spent sleeping on the ground while a captive. He experienced no shame over strangling Dugal, as expected. When he was younger he’d expected to suffer some remorse for his dark deeds, but since being outcast he’d left behind those ridiculous regrets. This traitor was not the first man he’d ended, nor would he be the last.

Once Kiamh found the cluet, no one would ever again call him anything but Master.

In the morning Garia came screeching into the laird’s chamber, begging Tair to come and see to someone named Dugal. Lucy pulled on her clothes and followed both of them to one of the chambers reserved for the clan’s vassals, the door of which stood open. The smell coming out of the room told her that Dugal was probably beyond help, but when Tair rolled the big man over and touched his throat she frowned.

That isn’t who I saw coming in here last night, Lucy thought.

Dorchad came to stand beside her. “Did that fool boak and choke to death on it?”

“Not with those bruises around his neck,” she said, frowning. “I saw someone come into this room last night when I went to get some washing water. It wasn’t one of your brothers or any of the vassals I know. He was dressed in a dark cloak and maybe some black trousers.”

“The sort our woodsmen wear,” the chieftain said under his breath, as if he were talking to himself. “What more?”

“He was short and a little plump—like some of the men I saw in the village,” she added when he frowned at her. “I don’t know for certain. It was late, I was tired and it was dark.”

“Mayhap you imagined such,” Dorchad said.

How could she convince him of what she’d seen? “Just after he went in there, he said something. All I heard was mow-grah.”

“Mo ghràdh,” he corrected her, and finally backed up. “You’re certain ’twasnae a wench?”

“He wasn’t wearing skirts. He had on dark trousers and men’s boots under that cloak.” She couldn’t recall the words he’d said after that because she’d gone by the room and had turned a corner. “What does mo ghràdh mean?”

His jaw tightened. “My love.”

At that moment Tair stomped out of the room and glared at Dorchad. “Why do you call my wench your love?”

“He didn’t.” As a show of solidarity Lucy tucked her arm through the chieftain’s. “We were just talking about something I saw last night. It’s okay.”

Tair glowered at her and then eyed his half-brother. “If I find a mark on her later, you die.”

“Aye, my lord. Happily.” He tugged free of her hold, bowed to her and then the laird before he went into the room.

“You are not endearing me to your brothers, you know.” She frowned at him. “By the way, what does ha gill ackam orsht mean?”

“Tha goal agam ort,” he said, as if correcting her. A sudden and decidedly sheepish look came over his face. “’Tis naught important.”

“Shall I go and ask Dorchad to translate it for me?” she asked sweetly.

“No.” His face reddened a little, and then he marched her away from the scene. Once they were out of earshot of Garia and the other servants, he told her, “’Tis how we say ‘I love you.’”

“Oh.” She’d never expected him to say it, but he had. “I really need to learn Scots Gaelic.” She glanced back toward Dugal’s chamber. “Someone strangled that man, didn’t they?” When Tair nodded she grimaced. “Why would someone want a stableman dead?”

“I cannae tell you,” the laird admitted, and then looked past her. “Druid, you slept close to here, aye?”

“Aye, my lord,” Kiamh said, and grinned at the young gardener beside him. “Bruce kindly permitted me share his quarters at the other end of the passage last night. ’Tis something amiss?”

Dorchad appeared beside Tair and murmured something to him before regarding the two young men. “Did you see a woodsman come into Dugal’s room last night?”

“No, Chieftain,” Bruce said. “Maister Kiamh and I played quoits until we tired, and then slept until now.”