Whatever the case, with all that she admired, respected and enjoyed about her husband, Claray supposed it would be surprising if she did not love him. Conall was a man worth loving, and she simply could not bear the thought of this man ending his life.
Realizing that Hamish was talking again and that she’d missed part of it, Claray concentrated on what he was saying again, in case there was something she could use to save herself and Conall.
“—and I told her that, so I’m no’ sure why she decided to kill ye anyway,” he added with grim resentment.
“Told who what?” Claray asked uncertainly.
“Me mother,” he said with exasperation. “I told her that he’d ordered ye to enjoy it. That’s why I do no’ ken why she’s so determined to see ye dead.”
“Yer mother?” Claray asked with bewilderment, and then followed his gaze to the unconscious woman lying against the wall. Eyes widening with dismay, she asked, “Mhairi is yer mother?”
“Aye,” he admitted with disgust, and then glanced back to her. “She’s mad. Always has been. Used to brag to me on how she’d cleaned out the den o’ inequity that Bean and Giorsal MacDonald had wrought here. She thought she’d killed the son too, but obviously she mucked that up like she mucks up everything.” He turned a sneer on the woman and muttered, “She was no’ a good mother.”
Claray bit her lip, unsure what to say. She couldn’t imagine the childhood he must have suffered through. But that didn’t excuse his actions now. Conall’s own childhood had been a horror thanks to this man’s mother, and he wasn’t going around trying to kill others. Well, other than his mercenary work, she acknowledged, and then pushed that thought away and concentrated on getting herself out of this mess. The man kept saying he was saving her, perhaps she could use that to her advantage.
“Thank ye, Hamish,” she said now, and when he turned back to her, she managed a small smile and assured him, “I appreciate that ye’re tryin’ to save me soul. Now, do ye think ye could untie me, please? I should like to leave here.”
“Soon,” he assured her, running his hand down her cheek. “I ken yer scared, but I’m goin’ to help ye.”
“It would help me if ye untied me,” she pointed out.
“Aye, but like I said, I need to talk to ye first.”
Claray’s teeth ground together, but she held on to her patience.
“About what?” she asked. “If ’tis about yer mother knockin’ me out and draggin’ me here, I’ll explain to Conall that ye were no’ involved. He’s a good man. He’ll no’ hold ye responsible.”
Hamish smiled sadly. “Lass, I’m the one who coshed ye over the head and brought ye here, and I’m sorry fer that, but I could no’ take the risk o’ ye refusin’ to come with me or cryin’ out. And ’tis fer yer own good anyway.”
Claray swallowed the fear trying to clog her throat, but held her tongue. She wasn’t surprised by his words. She’d been hoping his mother had been behind it, but even as she had, some part of her mind had recognized that Mhairi MacDonald could not have carried her out to a cottage outside the wall.
“Besides,” Hamish continued, “Conall’s no’ a good man, lass. He’s forced ye to enjoy the beddin’, and we both ken that’s wrong. But ’tis fine,” he continued before she could respond to that, although she had no idea what she could say anyway. “I plan to tend to that fer ye. I’m lookin’ out fer ye.”
“How do ye plan to tend to it?” Claray asked, quite sure she didn’t want to hear the answer.
“I’m gonna kill him.”
Exactly what she hadn’t wanted to hear, Claray thought on an inward sigh. Hamish was obviously as mad as his mother. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised what with her raising him and feeding him all her bitter theories on what God expected and wanted.
“See,” Hamish went on, “that way, ye’ll be free and we can wed.”
Claray stiffened at that. This was not something she’d expected.
“And I promise I’ll never imperil yer soul by makin’ ye enjoy the beddin’,” he vowed, his hand moving to her knee and beginning to squeeze. “In fact, I’ll be sure ye do no’ enjoy it, so yer soul is safe.”
Hamish squeezed harder with every word he spoke. But Claray refused to show that he was hurting her. She’d heard some of the women talking, and from what she understood, Hamish had some unusual tastes when it came to the bedding. Pain excited him, and the last thing she wanted to do was excite him. So, Claray bit her tongue and didn’t react, until she felt the bones grind in her knee and couldn’t bear it anymore, and finally gave in and cried out in pain.
“There,” he said soothingly, releasing her leg the moment she cried out. “See. With me yer path to heaven’ll be a sure thing. Fer ’tis surer ye’ll get to heaven through pain and sufferin’ like His own Son did than pleasure. I’ll be a much better husband to ye, Claray, and a better laird to our people too.”
Claray thought she’d rather roast in hell than marry the man. She couldn’t believe he’d think she’d agree to marry someone promising her a lifetime of pain. Much as she loved God, if that’s what He expected of her to get into heaven, she would say, “Thank ye, nay.” But in her heart, Claray didn’t think that was what He wanted at all. Not if madmen and their mothers thought it was the only route, and that was what she was dealing with. A madman and his mother.
“How do ye plan to kill him?” she asked quietly, trying to sort out how much time she had to escape and warn Conall.
“Soon as he gets here, and that should be soon,” Hamish muttered, straightening suddenly. “I had mother spill the mead on ye so ye’d go up to change, and I put nightshade in Stubborn Bastard’s stall so he’d have to seek ye out to talk to ye about—”
“Ye poisoned Stubborn Bastard?” she interrupted with alarm.
“Nay,” he snapped with irritation at the interruption, and then grimaced and said, “Well, mayhap.” Scowling he said, “All I did was put the nightshade in his stall. If the stupid beast ate it, there’s naught I can do about it. Besides, ’twas necessary,” he assured her. “I needed to get yer husband alone, and the only way I could think to get him away from Roderick and Payton was to have him follow the path yer bleedin’ wound made when I carried ye out through the secret passage. That’s why I had to hit ye so hard. ’Twas part o’ me plan. Ye needed to bleed freely so he’d ha’e a trail to follow. I’m sure he’d no’ want the others kennin’ about the secret passage. He’ll usher them out o’ the room and come after ye alone. Then I can kill him, we can marry and all will be well.”
Claray felt her heart sink as he described his plan. Mostly, because she was very much afraid it might work. Conall probably wouldn’t want anyone else to know about the secret passage. He hadn’t even told her about it and she was his wife. Which meant he probably would follow the trail of blood alone. That in itself wouldn’t worry her too much, but he trusted Hamish and, seeing him here, Conall’s first thought might be that he’d got here first to rescue her just as she’d first thought. It might make him slow to realize the situation and give Hamish just a few seconds’ advantage. That might be enough to get him killed, Claray realized. She really didn’t want Conall killed.