The Bard (Highland Heroes #5) - Maeve Greyson Page 0,99

look. “Poor Heckie. His madness nearly killed us both. I pray his tortured soul has finally found the rest he never wouldha gotten in this world.”

“As do I, my precious sister.” Sorcha patted Jenny’s hand, sending up another silent prayer that dear Jenny would be granted the healing that she herself had received.

“But out of all that evil, a precious gift was given to me.” Jenny inclined her head toward Lachlan. “I finally realized that fine silks from Edinburgh and games of chance in the guard tower were not what I needed to make life complete.”

The quiet warrior sat taller, squared his shoulders, and smiled proudly. Then he turned a serious look on Chieftain Greyloch. “I ask yer permission and yer blessing, my chieftain. I would like to take Jenny as my wife, if ye would allow it.”

“What do ye think, War Chief MacCoinnich? This man is under yer command.” Greyloch glowered at Lachlan, but Sorcha knew was a lie. Da did love teasing as much as he loved his whisky. She gave Sutherland a look that she hoped he would heed for poor Lachlan’s sake.

Sutherland made a show of scowling at Lachlan until the guard squirmed in his chair.

Sorcha nudged her husband under the table and cleared her throat.

“I think they are a good match,” Sutherland said with a wink. “And since I’m the one sitting within reach of yer daughter’s kick, I would ask that ye grant the man yer blessing.”

Chieftain Greyloch laughed. “Then I do so bless the union, and I will also say, God help ye, Lachlan. I hope ye ken what ye’re getting into. My foster daughter will keep ye on yer toes.”

“Thank ye, my chieftain.” Lachlan stood. “And thank ye as well, war chief.” He held out a hand to Jenny. “Come now. Ye promised ye would rest as Aderyn ordered if I brought ye to the garden for a wee spell.”

“Ye have paled even more, Jenny,” Sorcha said. “Ye need to be healed for yer wedding.”

“Fine.” Jenny relented and slid her hand into Lachlan’s. As soon as she was on her feet, he surprised her by scooping her up into his arms.

“What do ye think ye’re doing?” she scolded, but her smile betrayed her relief at not having to walk.

“I am protecting my future,” Lachlan announced before nodding a farewell to the rest of them and marching inside with Jenny in his arms.

“I like him,” Sorcha said. “He’ll take good care of her.” Another unresolved issue came to mind as she nibbled on a bannock slathered with butter. “By the way, did that woman and her son ever leave?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Sutherland said as he helped himself to the plate of blood pudding. “Lady Delyth Culane made the mistake of poisoning herself and has since gone to meet her maker.”

“She’s dead?” Sorcha couldn’t believe it. She knew the woman was always drinking concoctions but figured her to have enough sense to keep from killing herself. After all, according to the rumors, she had supposedly known enough about herbs to rid herself of four husbands. “Are ye certain Garthin didna do her in? There was little love lost between those two.”

“Nay.” Sutherland shook his head as he took another bite. “He confessed to hating her whilst he was chained to the dungeon wall, but he swears she did herself in.”

“Chained to the dungeon wall? Is he still there?” What else had she missed while she had been held captive in the tunnels?

Her father waved away the question. “Nay. We let him out when ye went missing.” He shrugged. “He left with his mother’s body this morning. Said he planned to join the priesthood once all her affairs were settled.”

“Garthin? A priest?” She couldn’t imagine such.

“His wee spell in the dungeon made him a changed man,” Sutherland said with a smug look.

“And did anything else happen while I left ye two unsupervised?” She glanced around the garden. “Where’s Magnus? Ye’ve said nothing of him, and I havena seen him. Please tell me no ill befell him during the chaos of the past few days.” She liked Magnus and thought of him as another of Sutherland’s brothers.

“He’s headed to Tor Ruadh to apprise Alexander of all that’s happened and of my acceptance of the role of war chief.” His plate emptied for the second time, Sutherland leaned back in his chair and stretched. “He’ll pass back through here after a while. He considers Tor Ruadh home but has always been a solitary sort. When