Highland Wolf (Highland Brides #10)(82)
Claray stared at her blankly as she absorbed her words, and then cleared her throat, and said tentatively, “Mhairi, I ken the church says we should no’ enjoy marital relations and—”
“God does no’ suffer man to enjoy the couplin’,” she interrupted, sounding like she was quoting someone. Probably a parish priest, Claray thought, and managed a smile as she nodded.
“Aye,” she began. “But—”
“And yet ye enjoyed it, did ye no’?” Mhairi interrupted again, a sly smile curving her lips. “Ye liked him touchin’ and puttin’ his mouth on ye everywhere and then swivin’ ye with his big, hard lance, poundin’ ye till ye screamed yer pleasure, forsakin’ yer soul.”
Claray flushed and swallowed, unsure what to say. All she really wanted to do was slap the murderous bitch. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible tied up as she was.
“Lady Giorsal enjoyed it too,” Mhairi announced, saving her from having to respond at all. “She used to squeal like a pig every time her husband poked her. As fer himself, he roared his pleasure with disgustin’ fervor. I could barely stand to listen and watch when they escaped out to the fishpond of a night to jape by the water. But I had to bear witness to their sinful ways fer God,” she assured her, and then added, “They were evil, and spreadin’ their corruption amongst the clan. Soldiers would meet up with the servin’ girls in dark corners, both inside and outside the keep, push ’em up against the wall or a tree and have at ’em like the animals they were all becomin’. I could no’ let it continue. They were goin’ against God,” she pointed out.
Claray stared at her blankly. The woman had obviously spied on Conall’s parents in their private moments, which she found just disgusting. It sounded like she’d also taken to watching the servants and soldiers too when they tried to find a private spot to indulge themselves. What she’d witnessed wasn’t uncommon in castles. There was little privacy afforded any but the laird and lady who had a chamber. The others often sought out dark spots to be together. She didn’t bother to point that out to Mhairi though and merely said, “So ye poisoned them.”
“Aye.” Mhairi grinned again. “Everyone who was at table that night at least, and some who were no’. And it was glorious. So easy. I just slipped it in the wine and ale, and one and all drank it.” She smiled, apparently at the memory, and then her smile faded, replaced with a bitter expression. “I put it in their seed’s drink too, but the little bastard did no’ drink it.”
“Conall,” Claray murmured, and the woman snorted with disgust.
“His name is Bryson MacDonald, and he should have died that night.” She scowled and shook her head. “After watching all at table die, I went up to his room to check on him. I’d put it in his watered-down mead and expected to find him dead too. But when I got to his chamber it was empty, his food and drink still on the table, untouched. I thought he’d wandered out with his dog somewhere as he sometimes did, and then as I started to turn back to the door, I noticed a panel o’ the stone wall slightly ajar next to the fireplace. So, I went to the openin’ and peered in. Much to me surprise it was a secret passage.”
Claray stilled at that. She wasn’t surprised to learn there were secret passages in the castle. Most had them. But Conall hadn’t mentioned them to her. Still, she suspected this was how she’d been knocked out and removed from their bedchamber without anyone noticing. Mhairi must have crept up through the secret passage, entered the room while she was changing and coshed her over the head, then somehow dragged her into the passage with her and down here to this cottage. Claray was frowning over how the woman had managed that last part when Mhairi continued her tale.
“There are peepholes all along the passage, but most o’ them overlook the great hall. Light was splashin’ through and highlightin’ the young bugger. I could see his horrified little face and knew he’d seen them all die below.” She grimaced. “Well, I kenned I’d no’ be able to convince him to eat or drink after he’d witnessed that. So, I decided I’d ha’e to wring his nasty little neck to be sure the plague o’ putrescent corruption was gone.”
Her mouth flattened out with remembered frustration. “He must ha’e heard me when I started in after him. He turned me way, but the light was behind me. I’m sure he could no’ see who ’twas. But the little bastard panicked and ran anyway. I followed quick as I could, but he was always a swift one, that boy. Used to keep me runnin’ to look after him,” she added with resentment, and then shrugged. “By the time I followed him out of the passage and into the bailey, he was ridin’ out o’ the stables on his pony.
“O’ course I gave chase,” she assured her. “I took his whore mother’s horse and rode out after him. The mare was powerful and should ha’e caught up easily to the pony, but I’d never ridden a horse before. I did no’ ken what the hell I was doin’ and it was hours ere I caught up to him.” Her mouth set with displeasure. “I grabbed the reins o’ his mount out o’ his hands and yanked to make him stop and the damned thing reared, topplin’ the lad from his mount.
“The boy hit his head as he fell. He was unconscious. So, I jumped off the mare and walked over, intendin’ to finally finish him off . . . But then several men rode out o’ the woods and surrounded us.