“Jesu,” Niall whispered. “Why? We ne’er did anything to him.”
“Nay, but I do ken that he has always resented the fact that Grandfather gave our father that house and several acres of land. It took a bite out of what he saw as his.”
“It wasnae his; it was the old laird’s and then became his father’s.”
“And will soon be his. Rabbit is near done. We eat, then continue.”
“Mora might need us?”
“Aye. Her and wee Andrew.” David could see that Niall was puzzled and asked, “Why would our cousin hire men to kill us? Why nay just wait and see if fighting in France will end us?”
“Because he is getting rid of heirs to that bit of land until it has to be drawn back into the big lot his father holds?” Niall asked the question in a quiet, nervous voice.
“Aye. It is all that makes any sense.”
“I pray ye are wrong.”
“Nay harder than I do, but just the thought has me anxious to get back home. I need to see if I am wrong or right. Until I can see what awaits, I cannae rest. The question of why did he try to have us killed preys on me.”
“Then we willnae rest. Much. We will go get your answers.”
Chapter Thirteen
Mora blushed faintly as Gybbon hooked her arm through his and led her out into the garden. It was dark but there were a few torches lit to give light to the area, and the moon shone bright. She suspected everyone who had seen them leave the hall knew why he was taking her for a walk in the gardens when one could barely see what grew there, and that did embarrass her a bit.
They had been at Glenfuerach for a week and she loved the keep. It was well run and sturdy, with a guard obviously trained to watch and battle any trouble that came along. Annys was already a friend and Andrew was happy to be with other boys in a place behind big, thick walls.
“Triona, Brett’s wife, has done a lot of work here,” Gybbon said, sounding quite proud of his brother’s wife as he looked around. “She and Annys worked hard, although Annys was cautious because she carried her child. It was an overgrown, snarled mess. They even put in the herb garden. Then Triona returned to her home and Brett.”
“Why did they have to do so much work?”
“’Twas left alone for too long. The new laird cared naught about gardens. He did like to hunt down the meat for the table but cared nothing about all the rest ye need for a fine meal. ’Twas much the same with the whole keep. It all needed work. The laird here wanted Triona’s keep. He probably planned on living there and just allowing this one to rot and expanding his land holdings.”
“Annys told me some of the tale.” She shook her head. “I just find it difficult to understand. Aye, your brother and Annys have cleaned things, but the mon had a fine, sturdy keep and land. Why try so hard to grab even more? Why nay just make this one finer?”
“Annys’s lands were far more fertile and she had excellent grazing lands, so her husband’s cousin came after them. He thought to make his hold on the place more firm by wedding her, but that failed so he just tried to take them. He had the backing of his family, too, for they had always resented her late husband being given the lands. She has a lot of skilled people on her lands and their market day produced a nice profit. He wanted that, too. He even put all her fighting men in prison to rot. So, after the battle and after Harcourt got himself named laird of this place with Brett’s blessings.
“With Triona, it was her neighbor Sir John, with his family’s quiet backing at the start, as they all disliked the fact that their ancestor lost the lands and they had ended up in the possession of her late husband, Boyd. They felt it should be theirs. Brett had kenned her years before but came the moment she wrote him of trouble. There was e’en a battle o’er it all, but then that ended when her husband’s elder brother, Nigel, appeared from the dead and joined in. It appears France is a good place to try and rid oneself of unwanted relatives as Adam had paid someone to put Nigel in a prison to rot. So Brett weds her and is suddenly Laird of Banuilt, the keep John held. Annys and her son came here to be with Harcourt.”
“Ye didnae lie when ye said your kin had experience with greedy relations trying to enrich themselves. Seeing this, all I can think of is that Robert seeks to steal a pittance. It seems that the surest way to trouble for a woman is to be in possession of some lands.”
He laughed and led her to a bench set between two trees with gently arching branches. Gybbon sat and tugged her down beside him. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her up close to his side. It pleased him when she snuggled closer and rested her head against his chest.
He kissed her temple. “Ye are safe here. Andrew is safe here as weel.”
“Just being behind such thick, high walls has done a lot to ease the fear riding me so hard.”
Nodding, Gybbon listened to the sounds of the keep, the slow softening of the usual noise as the light faded. Harcourt had gained himself a good solid place here with people who were more than happy to call him their laird and bow to Annys as their lady. He also now had a well-trained fighting force.
As he slowly rubbed his cheek against Mora’s hair, he began to ponder about what he needed to do to have a place to live, some work to do, and get some coin. He had gathered a hefty purse during his travels, but more would help. Gybbon realized such thoughts told him he was done wandering around the land fighting other people’s battles. If he had to fight again it should be to protect something he owned.
Mora looked up at Gybbon and frowned. He had a look that told her he was meandering through a lot of thoughts and memories. She was not sure she wanted to know what they were but felt compelled to ask.
“Gybbon, where have ye gone?” she asked softly, and reached up to stroke his cheek.
Mora’s gentle question and touch yanked him out of his rambling thoughts. “Just thinking over the last year or two and all the places I have been.”
“Ye were doing a lot of wandering around? Selling your sword?” she asked warily, afraid that might be an insulting question.
“At times. But I often would wonder if I was really fighting for the right side, and that troubled me. Mostly I would ride to a kinsmon when he needed aid and lend a hand. Sold Jester’s services as stud to a few people.”
“They liked his coloring, didnae they?”
“Aye, that was mostly what they hoped to get, but he is also a good, strong stallion who can run fast, and any mon with men to seat cannae resist that either.” He nodded and said, “I ken everywhere he might end up having left a wee Jester.”
“Then ye had best hope he cannae pass on his temperament.”
Gybbon laughed. “True. Although tossing the wrong person out of the saddle is nay always such a bad thing.”
He picked her up, ignoring her gasp of shock, and set her on his lap, facing him, her legs settled just where he had wanted them to, on either side of his legs. He looked at her blushing face and then kissed her frowning mouth, feeling it soften beneath his lips.
“This is verra, weel, indecent, isnae it?” She looked around the garden but could not see anyone.
“There is no one here, Mora. No one to see your wee bird legs.”
“Oh! I dinnae have bird legs.” She smacked him on the arm knowing he did not even feel it.
Laughing, Gybbon pulled her closer and began to kiss her neck. This was why he was suddenly thinking of all he needed to do so that he could settle in one place. If anyone would have suggested such a thing would happen to him and because of a slender woman who carried a cat around, he would have laughed heartily.