The Bruised Thistle (The Order of the Scottish Thistle) (31 page)

She finally moved, heaping out a good portion for the boy.

“I heard Malcolm’s men talking about us.” Calum poured the cream into his steaming porridge as he spoke. “They found out who we were, that there was a price on our heads.”

Dumbfounded, Iseabail and Seumas waited as Calum devoted himself to his food.

Finally noticing them watching him, Calum continued between mouthfuls. “When I left Seumas with Malcolm, I started to go back up to the room but heard men whispering down the hall. I hid. The little space beside the window? Well, I found I fit perfectly in there and no one could see me.” He paused, laughing at his own cleverness. “They said they had told Malcolm and he had formulated a plan. He would lure us away from Seumas by whatever means possible and return us to Uncle Henry.”

Calum glanced toward Iseabail when he spoke the name, and she lowered her head to keep from revealing her feelings. Seumas felt again the fierce hatred for the man who had taken advantage of his ward. The moment’s silence became uncomfortable for all until Iseabail spoke.

“He is dead.” Her voice held no feeling.

Calum nodded in understanding. “I snuck into our room and took the cloak to hide it after the men had left. It was when I was coming back out that the tall blond man grabbed me by my shirt and threatened me. He dragged me to Malcolm’s rooms and I heard their whole story. The way that man looked at me, I knew it would not fare well for me.” Scraping the bowl with his spoon as he gobbled up the last of his food, Calum raised his eyebrows in pleading.

Iseabail made a face as she grabbed his bowl to refill it. “Where is my cloak now?”

“In the trunk,” Calum said.

Iseabail locked eyes with Seumas.

“Is the will still inside?” Seumas asked.

“Of course.” Calum shook his head as if it were the most absurd question he had ever had to answer. “No one knows about the will. I hid the cloak in the trunk. That’s even better than a hook, eh, Seumas?”

Iseabail tipped her head at Calum’s insolence. “Then how did you end up stabbed?”

“Well, I tried to get away, of course. I had to warn you. They were going to kill
you
, Seumas.”

Iseabail gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Ye did it all to save my life?”

Calum smiled and shrugged. “I do not doubt you would do the same for me.”

Iseabail smiled through her tears as she dished more hot porridge for Calum.

Seumas shook his head, unable to truly grasp what had happened. He put his hand on Calum’s shoulder and waited for the boy to look up at him before he spoke. “If ye need me, Calum, I will be there.”

Seumas put his arm around the boy, and Iseabail came to stand beside her husband. He enclosed her with his other arm.

Calum hugged him back. “I had no doubt about that.” His muffled voice was barely discernible.

“Any food left for me?” Seumas settled himself on the bench opposite Calum. “Methinks we need to make some plans.”

Iseabail spooned the hot porridge into a bowl. “Plans for what?”

“I think we need to head back down to be sure whoever is entitled to yer family’s property gets it.”

Iseabail frowned and sat beside him on the hard bench. “That would be Calum.”

Seumas shoveled the food in and smiled at his wife. “We shall have to see to all that.”

She nodded in agreement, concern creasing her brow as she poured Seumas a cup of milk.

Seumas needed to sift through the many details for acquiring her family land. Either way, he was not about to give Iseabail or Calum false hope by sharing his suspicions about Iain. Now that the will had been found, Seumas would be sure her property was seen to as originally intended. Iseabail’s father sounded like a good man, and his family had been through a lot. Seumas wanted to honor the man and help restore his family and give his wife peace.

“I have a reputation to uphold here. When my assistance is sought, I am not remiss. I will do no less for the M
acNaughton lands.” Seumas inclined his head before tossing back his drink. “Rest assured about that.”

 

The End

 

About the Author

 

Ashley York has wanted to be a writer since her first story—a mystery she wrote in the sixth grade—kept her classmates guessing. She loved the history in the novels she read so much that she decided to get her MA in History. The early medieval period is her favorite time.

 

Although her works are fiction, Ashley often likes to incorporate authentic places, events, and people to increase the reader’s enjoyment.

 

She lives in New England with her husband, two cats and a y
ellow Labrador named Caledonia.

 

Connect with me online:

 

Website:
www.ashleyyorkauthor.com

Email:
[email protected]
.

 

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