The Betrayal - By Ruth Langan Page 0,52

“If that is what you wish, my…”

The rest was swallowed by his kiss. And then there was no need for words as they lost themselves in their love.

Kylia stood on her balcony and watched as Grant and Dougal, accompanied by the ever-present Finlay, rode toward the village of Duncrune, where they had agreed to meet with Culver and Lord Giles.

Feeling restless, she drew a shawl around her shoulders before taking leave of her chambers, with Wee Lad at her feet. She would search the gardens for Hazlet, and try to find a way to see past the veil into the woman’s soul. For, though it pained her greatly, she was becoming convinced that Grant’s aunt was the key to his betrayal.

As Kylia started toward the garden she was stopped by Grant’s housekeeper—tiny, birdlike Mistress Gunn.

“Are ye in need of something, my lady?”

It was the first time she could recall the old woman speaking directly to her. Perhaps Ardis had convinced her that she wouldn’t be turned into a toad if she got too close to the witch. The thought of it had Kylia smiling, for she’d seen how most of the household staff kept their distance. “Nay, thank you. Since the lord is away, I thought I would walk in the garden. That is, if you have no objection, Mistress Gunn.”

“None, my lady.” The housekeeper eyed the wolf pup with suspicion. “But see ye keep your shawl tight around ye, for there’s a bit of chill in the breeze this day.” The old woman gave her a sideways glance. “Or do ye never feel the cold the way we do?”

“I feel all the things you feel, Mistress. Cold, hunger, fear.”

“Fear?” The old woman’s eyes widened. “Truly?”

“Truly. My sisters and I are ordinary women with some…extraordinary gifts which we are pledged to use only for good.”

“So, ye wouldn’t put a spell on someone in jest?”

“To do so would weaken our gifts. In time they could be lost to us, as they were lost to so many who came before us.”

The housekeeper let out a long, slow sigh. “That’s a comfort.”

“Mistress Gunn, have you known the lady Hazlet all her life?”

“Aye, for I was at her mother’s side for the birthing.”

Seeing the pup chewing on the housekeeper’s hem, Kylia picked him up and cuddled him in her arms. “As a lass, was she always so…stern?”

“Stern?” The old woman laughed. “Hazlet was a challenge to her parents. A wild one, that. Defied them at every turn. And defied her brother, Stirling, as well. She actually wanted to go with him and train to be a warrior.”

“A warrior? Hazlet?” Kylia couldn’t hide her surprise.

Mistress Gunn shook her head. “Everything changed after Ranald arrived. Young Hazlet found herself enjoying the womanly things she’d long denied. But when Ranald died, the lady took to her chambers, locking everyone out, and I fear she would have remained there until death claimed her, had it not been for Dougal’s untimely birth.”

“Did you attend that birthing as well?”

The old woman thought a moment. “It was a difficult time in the castle. The small army of men left here to protect the women and children fought off the barbarians, and then began returning the bodies of the dead—” she crossed herself “—including the laird’s body and that of Ranald. As I recall, Hazlet took charge of the birthing while we tended to the burials. It wasn’t until later that we learned the lady Mary had died in childbirth.”

“And Hazlet never returned to her chambers?”

“How could she? There was the care of the bairn and his wee brother. And for a time, Hazlet seemed able to set aside her grief. But later, as the lads grew to manhood, the grief was back, and with it, a religious fervor the likes of which we’d never seen in the lady before.”

Seeing the cook waddling toward her, the housekeeper opened the door leading to the garden. “Enjoy your walk, my lady.”

“Thank you, Mistress Gunn.” Kylia slipped outside and set down the pup before starting along the garden path.

Because of the tall hedgerows, it was impossible to see from one pathway to another. Kylia drank in the beauty of her surroundings as she slowly made her way through the maze, pondering over all she’d been told.

At the sound of hoofbeats, she looked up to see Gresham, the stable master, leading one of the horses. At once Wee Lad raced to Kylia’s side and huddled beneath the hem of her gown.

In a courtly gesture Gresham whipped