Page 52 of A Highlander's Vow

“I will take yer things and put them by the fireplace downstairs so they can dry.” She pointed to the small brazier in the room. “I will have my grandson, who lives here with us, fill that with some peat to get ye warmed up.”

“Thank ye so much.”

Once the woman left, carrying her wet garments, Megan climbed onto the bed and pulled the bedcovers up over her. She’d been shivering since she entered the inn, and for the first time she felt a bit of warmth.

Now that her brain was not frozen, she turned her attention to what The Gunn had said downstairs. Trying to pass her off as his wife! If only she could talk Mrs. Bruce into letting her stay here, but the woman was right. She could not interfere with her guests or they would lose a lot of business if word spread.

Loud voices and laughter and what sounded like someone falling came from the room next door. At the same time there was a knock on her door. Afraid it was Anthony or Gunn, she walked softly across the floor and leaned up against the door. “Who is there?”

“My lady, I am the innkeeper’s son and I bring ye a tray for yer dinner.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, she opened the door and he handed her the tray. She thanked him and said, “There is quite a bit of noise in the room next to me.”

He nodded. “Aye, two of the men who arrived with ye are in there for the night. ’Tis sorry I am if they are disturbing ye.”

“Nay. I will just lock the door.”

Since they had all arrived together, the lad looked a tad confused but shrugged and bid her good night.

She finished the wonderful bowl of mutton stew, along with freshly baked bread and the cup of ale that had accompanied the meal.

More tired than ever, she crawled into bed and fell instantly asleep.

A loud crash from the room next to her woke her out of a sound sleep. Without thought, she reached out for Gregory and felt only a cold empty space. Immediately, she remembered where she was. Her fear and sadness were slowly turning to anger. How dare Robert take her from her home and drag her off to see the king and attempt to have her marriage annulled.

Loud voices had her stepping out of bed. The fire in the brazier was low, and it was cold in the room. But that didn’t stop her from placing her ear against the wall.

’Twas Anthony and The Gunn arguing. And from their voices it sounded as though they had quite a bit to drink.

She raced back to the bed and grabbed the covers, covered herself and returned to the wall.

“I still doona understand why ye get half the dowry when yer getting Megan. She’s a comely lass, and I’m sure after a few smacks she’ll settle down and ye’ll have a good wife.” She sucked in a breath at the sound of Anthony’s voice.

“Shut ye mouth, Sinclair. I think the king would be interested to ken ye had Robert killed in that small skirmish just so ye could claim Megan’s dowry as her husband and laird.”

That answered a question she’d had for a while: what was in it for Robert’s uncle to be so insistent she marry The Gunn. Then as the words sunk into her brain, her stomach churned. Her husband’s death had been planned? She sucked in a deep breath and covered her mouth. He’d been murdered!

Too sickened to continue listening, she returned to her bed. She’d always known Anthony was a greedy, horrible man. From the little she’d heard of the muffled conversation, somehow The Gunn found out what Anthony had done and the price of his silence was her as awife and half her dowry.

Amid tears, she offered more prayers for Robert’s soul. And God forgive her, she cursed Anthony’s soul.