“I dinnae hear anything.” She lied because she could hear Freya growling.
Still holding her, he stood up and walked toward Jester, dragging the woman with him. “It is coming from your bag.” He reached toward it. “And now the bag is moving. Open it.”
“Nay. They are just my belongings. Some clothes and such as that. Oh, and a few things I saved from the manor.”
“Clothes that growl? Open it.”
She sighed. His voice was hard and she sensed he was truly beginning to feel annoyed. In her experience, annoyed men struck out. Her father never had, but she had seen too many others who did. It seemed it did not take much for a woman to annoy a mon, either. She just hoped this man did not hate cats as much as her cousins did.
Carefully unlatching her bag, she took a deep, steadying breath. She could do nothing but hope she had not saved her pet once only to have another man kill her. The moment she opened the bag, Freya leapt out, landing on her shoulder and curling her tail around Mora’s neck. The small, gray cat stared at the man.
“A cat? Ye have been toting around a cat?” He took the bag from her.
“I had to. The men I am fleeing almost killed her because she scratched one of them.”
“Who would want to kill a kitten? The scratch couldnae have been a bad one.”
Trying not to think on the long, bleeding gouges on Robert’s face, several of them dangerously close to his eyes, she answered, “She isnae a kitten. She is two years old, probably as big as she ever will be.”
“Ah. A runt.” Still holding her by the wrist, he pulled her toward the campfire. “Sit.”
“I should continue on my way,” she protested, and reached for her bag.
He allowed her to grab it, then pulled her closer to the fire. “’Tis dark and nay a good time to travel. And where would ye go? I dinnae think there is another horse along the road for ye to steal. What is your name?”
“Mora Ogilvy.” She had opened her mouth to protest the word “steal” and then sighed, knowing there was no point in it.
“Sit.” He almost smiled at the way she narrowed her eyes as she stared at him, but she then sat down by the fire, setting her bag close by her side. The woman did not like to be ordered around.
Gybbon sat across from her and studied her. She was small, almost as near to being called a runt as her cat. Her hair was blond, but the firelight glinted off some red strands as well. From what little he could see of her figure, she was temptingly curved in all the right places. Since it was difficult to see her figure as well as he would like in the firelight, he turned his study to her face.
Her eyes were wide and what appeared to be a dark blue, the light from the fire occasionally highlighting that color. Even though her mouth was turned down in a frown, he could see enough of its shape to guess she had invitingly full lips. Her cheekbones were high, and just under the right one was a large, dark bruise.
“Someone hit ye in the face?” he asked, wondering why that angered him so.
“One of the men I am running from.” She sighed and tugged her cloak around herself as the cat walked down from her shoulders to settle on her lap, sitting within the folds of her cloak and staring at him. “Ye havenae told me who ye are.”
“Sir Gybbon Murray. Who are these men ye are fleeing? And why do ye need to flee?”
Mora sighed, still frightened, and saddened by all that had happened, but seeing no reason not to tell him. “My cousins. All three of them. The fourth is, I believe, a reluctant partner and I do wonder about the other two. The eldest is definitely determined. The old laird gave his eldest son the castle but he also gave my father, his youngest son, a fine manor house and a few acres. The new laird’s sons believe that was a mistake and that it should all go to their father, who would then hand it all down to one of them.”
“Why didnae ye just go to the laird and tell him?”
“He is ill and I couldnae tell how badly ill he is. He may nay have been able to understand what I told him and he certainly wouldnae be able to do anything to stop his sons. Also, telling him what his sons have done might weel make his illness worsen for he truly cared for my mother and father. For all of us.” She shook her head. “And if I was right about all of that, I would then find myself too close to the ones trying to get rid of me and without an ally to fight for me. Every time I considered going to tell Uncle Tomas what was going on, I then saw all the ways it could go horribly bad for me.”
He nodded. “True. Ye could have walked right into the lion’s den. So, are ye just running until ye find somewhere to hide from them?”
“Nay. For one thing, they need to pay for the killing of my parents. I am headed to some kin of my mother’s to ask for help.”
“Who are they?”
She frowned and stroked her cat. “Why do ye need to ken who they are? Ye willnae be having to collect your horse,” she added in a soft mutter.
“Weel, I may ken who they are. The Murrays ken a lot of folk in this land and are even connected to many through marriage. I may ken something ye need to learn to feel more certain that they will or can help ye.”
The way she stared at him, her eyes narrowing slightly, told him she was not sure she should trust him with that information. Gybbon was not sure why that irritated him so much as it was a completely understandable doubt. It did not help ease his irritation when he noticed that her strange little cat still watched him closely as well, its eyes also narrowed.
“My mother was their kin. Surely they would aid their kin, even if the connection isnae terribly close; ’tis, truthfully, a rather twisted, distant link. I cannae even recall the many steps it takes to make the link, but I have met them twice. Once when I was verra young and once when their clan suffered a fever that killed a lot of its people, mostly the adults. My mother felt he might need some help as there were a lot of them, so she and Da packed us all up and went to see them.”
“But he didnae want her help?”
“He didnae really need it so Mother ne’er really offered, just said enough to let him ken the offer was there if he wished to call on it. She said there were some elder women still alive and helping. Also said she would probably end up being more of a thorn in his side than a help as she suspected she wouldnae agree with the things he did considering all his siblings. So, we left, but he and my mother often corresponded.”
“It does sound like he would have no problem lending ye a hand. So, who is he and where do ye need to go?”
Mora sighed, seeing that he was just going to keep pressing her until he got an answer to that question. She thought about it and could see no real reason not to answer him. “I am headed to Dubheidland to request some aid from the laird there, Sir Sigimor Cameron.” She was not sure the surprise he let show and the chuckle he let loose were a good thing.
“I ken where that is and I ken Sigimor. I will take ye there.”
“Nay, I cannae pull ye into my troubles. . . .” She stuttered to a halt when he raised his hand.
“Greedy relatives trying to take what isnae theirs is a problem we have dealt with before. Money and land are the causes of a lot of family strife.”
“How sad. I dinnae understand why my cousins are so determined to be rid of us. They have e’en dreamed up a few crimes to charge me with to help them. ’Tis a fine house we have, but nay that fine and only a few acres. They have a castle and a large swath of land. I cannae e’en see how it would help in splitting up the inheritance they’d get when the laird dies.”
“When did the laird fall ill?”