"If the ones sent to her were so bad, why did she allow them to stay?"
"Stubborn. My Lorraine could be stubborn. She wasnae going to let two lasses beat her." He frowned. "I think she also began to believe it was her duty to try and save them." He snorted. "I could have told her there was no saving those two, that they were damned ere they arrived here. If I had kenned what they would cost me, I would have thrown them out myself."
"What did they cost ye, m'laird?" asked Liam quietly.
"My wife. Och, I cannae prove it. If I had had proof I would have had the little bitches hanged from the walls. Weel, that Anabelle for certain. Nay sure I could have survived hanging the other one e'en though I am sure she was the one who did the killing."
"Why would hanging her have been so dangerous?"
"Powerful family."
Diarmot became aware that this was not the first tankard of wine the man had drunk. Lord Ogilvey was teetering on the edge of drunkenness. The ragged look of the man told Diarmot that Lord Ogilvey spent a great deal of his time in that state.
"What happened to your wife, m'laird?" he asked, anxious to get his answers before the man was too drunk to provide them.
"That Anabelle was a whore," Lord Ogilvey replied and shook his head. "She was a viper-tongued slut. My wife tried everything she could think of to change the girl. At first she just lectured Anabelle, tried to talk sense into her.
Naught worked. When she caught Anabelle with the shepherd's lad, she had the girl locked in her room for three days, no food, only a wee drink of water. My wife was nearly killed falling down the stairs that night. She couldnae say for certain whether she was pushed or not, wouldnae believe the girls would do it. I believed they would. Lorraine wouldnae heed me. She was so certain that discipline was all that was needed."
"But discipline didnae work?"
"Nay. Each time she disciplined Anabelle something happened to her. Then she caught Anabelle doing something that shocked her to the bone. She wouldnae tell me what. Lorraine was a godly woman and whate'er she had seen was too sinful for her to put into words. I tried to convince her that the church calls a lot of things sinful that arenae so verra bad, but Lorraine believed all the priest told her about sin. There was nay any mayhap or compromise about that. She had Anabelle beaten. Nay as badly as I thought the lass deserved, for past sins if nay the one that had Lorraine so upset. My Lorraine was dead two days later."
"Dead? How?"
"I dinnae ken, but she died screaming. I think she was poisoned in some way, but no one could find out how. I sent those bitches away and buried my wife." He rubbed a hand over his eyes. "All Lorraine wanted was a child. She wanted one so badly she was willing to borrow someone else's for a wee while and she got two demons who murdered her."
"Who was the other lass?"
"I think she was the worse. Anabelle was brazen, didnae hide what she was.
She was the enemy ye could see, if ye catch my meaning. That other one was so sweet, so calm. It took ye a while to see the evil in her, for when ye suspected it, ye had to doubt. How could such a bonny, quiet lass be evil? Ah, but she was. Behind that sweet face was a cold, evil woman, a killer. She was the enemy lurking in the shadows. She hadnae been here verra long when I began to see that she wasnae right, but Lorraine wouldnae heed me. The way that lass would sit there, so sweet, but with a coldness in her pale blue eyes that would chill ye to the bone, made me so uneasy I oftimes couldnae bear to be in the same room with her."
Diarmot felt a chill invade his bones at the man's words. Sweet, calm, pale blue eyes. There was only one woman he knew who fit that description, but he scolded himself for jumping to conclusions. There could be other women like that, and Lord Ogilvey's description did not have to be that accurate. Even so, he could not shake the suspicion growing inside of him.
"Who was the other lass, m'laird?" he asked again.
"Why, the daughter of my laird."
When the man said no more, Diarmot had to fight the urge to get up and shake him. "And who is your laird, Lord Ogilvey?" he pressed, trying to be polite, but feeling as tense and aggravated as the Camerons looked.
"Sir Lesley Campbell. He was so pleased that Lorraine was willing to train his lass Margaret." He frowned, vaguely cognizant of the shock in the men seated at his table. "There was some trouble with the lass recently, I think. Some marriage she was supposed to make, but didnae. I suspicion that is why she is gone to her cousin's."
It was taking all of Diarmot's strength not to race out of Muirladen and ride straight to Clachthrom. "Her cousin's?"