Well, ye know that is a fact of life…
She did, and she recognized a twinge of guilt as her due for having a position which allowed her to do what other girls didn’t dare. With both her parents dead and as the laird’s sister, not many had been willing to deny her whims. She’d made the most of the unique situation, too.
Now? Well, now she still a laird’s sister, but on McKay land, she might just become a prize. Faolan didn’t seem to be thinking about wedding her quickly to secure her dowry, but that didn’t mean another McKay would be so gallant.
There were reasons for the rules which life was lived by. She’d heard that sage bit of wisdom more than once through the years.
“Yer brother indulged ye by allowing ye to ride with his men, and ye see what happened when circumstances became dire. Ye ended up fighting for yer life against the river.”
Faolan was hard. But he had the integrity of a man she might label as gallant. Otherwise, he’d have joined her in the bed and made certain he might demand her dowry by morning light.
She needed to leave.
The thought made her discontent, but the long hours of toil in the kitchen ensured she dropped off into sleep.
Even if her circumstances remained on her mind.
*
Rory Mackenzie gritted his teeth. In the distance, he could see the walls of the Mackenzie stronghold. It was a sight which had filled him with joy before. Returning home had always been marked with smiles and joy.
Today, it wouldn’t be.
One of the Retainers up on the walls spied them. The bells began to ring soon after, alerting everyone to their arrival. But the men up on the wall also noticed the three bodies lying over the saddles of the horses. When they rode through the gates and into the main yard, there was a hushed crowd waiting for them.
Buchanan Mackenzie was there as they dismounted. He made quick work of looking at the faces of the dead before he turned on Rory.
“We could nae find her.” Rory forced the words out. He’d have rather stepped off the gallows platform himself than admit his failure. “The river…swept five away. And we could no’ find two.”
Buchanan’s face tightened, but he controlled his temper while sweeping Rory from head to toe and noting the cuts and bruises and torn clothing.
“Let’s get ye inside, man,” Buchanan spoke in a clipped tone.
There was a short cry as one of the men was recognized by his new widow. The sound sliced deeper, leaving Rory fighting to move. The storm was certainly not his fault, and yet, any man who accepted command of others took with that duty a responsibility to prepare for any eventuality.
Inside the hall, the mood was somber. The conversation was muted as Rory followed Buchanan to the study. His laird turned to face him, his expression clearly showing how hard Buchanan was fighting to control his fury.
Rory began the tale, his tone rich with frustration. “I swear I combed the river bank for her, Laird. But the water came so fast and disappeared just as suddenly.”
Buchanan held up his hand. “So, it is possible she was carried in a direction ye did no’ search?”
“It is,” Rory confirmed. “I had to bring the…others back.”
The bodies had already begun to swell. Burying a husband was hard enough. Facing a rotting corpse was something Rory hadn’t been willing to force his clanswomen to do.
“Ye did the right thing.” Buchanan clasped Rory on the shoulder. “Cora is strong. If ye did no’ find her…there is hope.”
The laird’s tone was grim. Rory gritted his teeth. He reached up and tugged on his cap before he left. Washing the filth from his skin after being out on the road was normally something he enjoyed, but there was little cheer to be found in the Mackenzie stronghold. There was only the bitter reality of knowing it was unlikely Cora was still alive.
*
Buchanan frowned.
He quelled the urge to head for the stables. Instead, he reached for another piece of paper and dipped his quill into the ink well.
“I can write those,” Rhedyn spoke from the doorway.
“Ye will go back to bed and conserve yer strength for the birth as the midwife advised,” Buchanan instructed his wife.
“Lying in bed will make me weak,” she replied. “Perhaps it is the fashion for noblewomen in England to lay in, but I will no’ be doing such a useless thing.” She came further into the room. “I will help ye find Cora.”
Buchanan jabbed the quill back into the inkpot. He stared at his wife for a moment. “Aye. Well, ye can write this letter to the McKay. Once it’s finished, send it out with Muir.”
“Ye are trusting Graham McKay with the knowledge that Cora is missing?” Rhedyn questioned.
“She might be injured,” Buchanan responded. He stopped and bit his lower lip. “Forgive me tone, lass. I am no’ at ease sharing such information, but it is the best solution to finding Cora quickly. Even if it means I pay a ransom for her. Better to have more men searching for her.”
“I agree.” She lowered herself into the chair and reached for the quill.
Buchanan kissed the top of her head, pausing to inhale the scent of her hair before he strode out of the room. Rhedyn knew he was going to ride out.
*
The clouds were back by morning.
There was an ominous rumbling overhead as Cora forced herself to get out of the bed. Leaving the warm blankets behind took resolve and a couple of muttered words she shouldn’t have said, once the cold hit her. She happily put on her overdress, smiling as the wool added another layer between her and the elements.
With the storm, the light of day was muted. Cora found her way to the kitchen and began to stoke up the fires. The flames cast a cheerful light while warming her nose and cheeks.
“It appears I will no’ be sending ye down to the McKay castle today,” Faolan spoke from the doorway.
There was a rumble of thunder in response.
Cora turned and nodded. “It would seem not.”
Their gazes locked.
Faolan broke the connection, though, turning and heading back into the hall.
Was he disappointed?
Are ye?
“Christ!” Cora mumbled at herself. There was work to do. She paused for a moment as she looked around the kitchen and realized she was happy to have something to do. Not just a task to occupy her time, for she was actually needed here.
Back on Mackenzie land, there were maids aplenty to see to the work. She’d been at her leisure and free to run wild. Her education had been well attended to, but in the end, she realized she’d always known the castle would go on without her doing a single task. In the kitchen, there in the Mackenzie stronghold, she had been indulged for the sake of her education.
For the very first time in her life, she was truly needed.
That restlessness which had been needling her lately suddenly receded. Something else filled her—a sense of purpose after remembering all the lessons and skills she had been taught growing up.
So, she wouldn’t be idling the time away.
*
The storm didn’t break until the evening.
But the clouds kept everything dark.
Sometime in the evening, the impossible pace Cora had kept in the kitchen slowed. She took a breath and realized the table was clean, and so was the floor. No dirty dishes were waiting for her, and the copper was full of water, which was gently steaming. Supper was finished, which afforded her the time to notice just how much her feet hurt.