“Giorsal loved ivy,” Lady MacKay said quietly. “She said it represented fidelity and eternal love. Bean knew that she liked it and had some planted on either side of the doors to please her. He then set a servant to the task of cutting it back regularly to make sure it did not go wild.”
“He sounds a wonderful husband,” Kenna said on a sigh.
“He was,” Lady MacKay assured them. “And Giorsal was a wonderful wife to him. They truly loved each other and Bryson. They were a happy family and a joy to be around. I missed them terribly after they died.” She sighed, and then confessed, “I still do.”
Claray glanced to the woman, noticed that Kenna had reached out to take her hand in a comforting gesture and turned her eyes quickly back to the keep.
“Conall was six when they died,” Kenna said after a moment.
“Aye,” Lady MacKay said, but there was a question in her voice.
“But they had no other children?” she asked with a small frown.
“Nay. That is the only thing that made her sad during all the years I knew her,” Lady MacKay told them solemnly. “She wanted more children, little brothers and sisters for Bryson, but year after year passed with nothing . . . and then it happened.”
Claray glanced at her sharply to see her nodding.
“Giorsal was with child when she died. She was only four months along at the time, but so happy.”
Claray let her breath out on a sigh, her gaze moving back over the ivy spread out before them. The more she heard, the more tragic it all seemed . . . and so unfair. Conall’s family was not the only one destroyed by the poisoning all those years ago. The entire clan had been all but decimated that night. They deserved some happiness and some real good fortune, and Claray determined then and there to do what she could to ensure they got it.
“Well,” she said, straightening her shoulders and stepping carefully over the ivy as she moved forward. “I guess I’d best take a look inside and see what needs doing.”
“Aye,” Lady MacKay agreed, following her. “As Ross likes to say, ‘Once done, ’tis over.’”
“And as ye like to say, Mother, ‘It can no’ get done without starting,’” Kenna added on a laugh.
Claray smiled faintly at the women’s words as she reached the steps and started up, careful of where she was placing her feet. The ivy had been around a long while and some of the vines were thick and likely to trip her. She was moving cautiously to avoid that and was halfway up when Stubborn Bastard whinnied with alarm and Lovey started to growl. Pausing, she glanced around with surprise.
Lovey had followed when they’d first started into the trees, but had soon wandered off on his own to explore. Apparently, he was back though, and while Stubborn Bastard was tossing his head and stomping his feet at the base of the stairs, Lovey was creeping up them toward her, his head lowered in what she recognized as a defensive mode.
“What’s the matter, Lovey?” Claray asked, and frowned when she noted the wolf was staring past her to the hole in the ivy where the door should be. Turning back, she eyed the hole now herself. At first, she didn’t see anything, but then she thought she saw movement in the shadows beyond the hole in the ivy.
“It looks like Deagh Fhortan has inhabitants already,” Lady MacKay said with concern. She was half a dozen steps back, and no longer moving, Claray noted, and then turned to look through the hole again, trying to better see what might be inside the keep. She would have expected bats or birds of some variety to have made nests, and tons of mice, of course, but whatever she’d seen had been much larger than a bird or mouse.
“Mayhap we should have the men check inside first,” Lady MacKay suggested, retreating down the stairs as Kenna rushed down to grab Stubborn Bastard’s reins and soothe him. Much to Claray’s surprise, he allowed it.
She started to follow Lady MacKay, but glanced over her shoulder as she did. She was just in time to see a piglet scurry out through the hole on wobbly legs. It was adorable, wee and round with striped fur down its sides . . . and her heart melted.
“Ahhh,” she crooned, and stopped to stare at the cute little creature. She had no intention of approaching it. Claray knew better than that. She also knew that she should probably back slowly away in case the mother was around too. Before she could though, she was tugged down a step by her skirt. Whirling around, she scowled when she saw Lovey had grabbed hold of the hem and was backing down the steps, trying to drag her with him.
Pulling back, she said with exasperation, “Let go. I’m coming, Lov—”
That was as far as she got before the wolf suddenly released her skirt and leapt past her, snarling and growling. Having been pulling back against the wolf’s tugging, Claray lost her balance the moment she was released and cried out as she staggered back. She tried to twist around as she fell, to get her hands out in front of her to soften the landing, but was only halfway around on impact.
Claray grunted as pain shot through her hip on landing, but otherwise ignored it and twisted her upper body toward the source of snorting and snarling behind her. Getting slapped in the face by Lovey’s fluffy tail was more a shock than anything. She hadn’t expected him to be that close, but he was right behind her, his jaws clamped on the snout of a huge boar sow that was just a step or two above him. The boar was shaking its head, dragging Lovey from side to side in an effort to make him let go. It had obviously come out through the ivy after its piglet and charged on her while her back was turned.
The beast must have been damned quick to get down the stairs as far as it had before Lovey had lunged past her to stop it, Claray thought grimly. The wolf had probably saved her life. There was nothing more dangerous than a boar. Many a hunter had been killed in a tussle with them. They were unpredictable, with tough hides, and could take what one would think was a killing blow, and get up and charge again. Boars, both male and female, had a tendency to ram the legs out from under you. If they got you on the ground, they were deadly.
Knowing that, Claray scrambled back to her feet, but didn’t rush down the stairs as Lady MacKay was doing. Instead, she pulled her sgian dubh and watched anxiously as Lovey struggled with the boar, intending to help if she could. There was no way she could just stand by and let him be killed for trying to help her, and while wolves were a boar’s main predator, they usually attacked as a pack, or with at least two or more wolves. One on one, the odds were not in Lovey’s favor.
“Claray!”
She didn’t even get a chance to look around at that shout before she was picked up and swung around, then set down at the base of the steps next to Lady MacKay.
“Get back,” Conall growled, and then was gone.
She watched with concern as Conall rushed up the steps, retrieving his sword as he went to help Lovey. She was more than a little relieved when his uncle, Payton and Roderick rushed past her and started up after him, their own swords already out.
Claray’s gaze shifted to Lovey, and she bit her lip anxiously as she saw that though the wolf still had the boar by the snout, he was obviously tiring. On the other hand, the boar seemed just as energetic and frenetic as it had been when she’d first seen them tussling and was emitting furious huffing, screeching and piercing cries that nearly drowned out Lovey’s growls.