Tara stared out at the vast empty moors, so bleak, so cold, and she could not conjure a single tear for the man she was supposed to mourn. In fact, she barely felt anything at all, as if part of her had died too.
***
Callum nudged Bryce in the shoulder. ‘We should say a few words, don’t you think?’
‘I suppose it is fitting, but this was your idea, not mine. And why come, Callum? The lass barely spoke to you when we brought her to the Shaws. Not much thanks for your kindness, I would say.’
‘It was a great shock to her, and she was grieving. Have pity. Tara has few friends and is alone in the world.’
‘Go then. But I doubt your condolences will be welcome, my friend. I am for home. My father has sniffed out another potential bride for me, and I must try and talk him out of it.’
Callum made his way to Tara but stopped as he saw Lieutenant Forster approach her. He could not hear their conversation over the howl of the wind, but the Lieutenant took hold of her hand, sending a ripple of pure rage through Callum. What did that smug English bastard want? It could not be anything honourable, of that he was certain.
The Lieutenant bent and pressed Tara’s hand to his lips, and Callum started forward but then felt a hand on his arm.
‘So kind of you to come, Laird Ross,’ said Mistress Shaw, following his gaze to Tara and the Lieutenant. ‘The poor lass is prostrate with grief. Who knows what will become of her?’
‘Does she have no family in England,’ he said, longing to shake off her arm and go to Tara.
‘Absolutely none,’ hissed Mistress Shaw, as if that were a great flaw on Tara’s part. ‘If it weren’t for our charity taking her in, she would be left to struggle on that derelict farm in the middle of nowhere. The land is gone, and she is now squatting in that cottage and soon to be turned out of it to starve in the hedgerows. Poor, wee lamb, and as innocent as one, she is too. Tara is to remain with Ezra and me for the time being.’
‘The time being?’ said Callum.
‘Aye, for the Lord only knows how long we can keep her, for we barely get by ourselves. She is wholly reliant on our good Christian charity. And she still has debts to carry on her back and some very persistent creditors who are not the best of men. It will be all we can do to keep her from the almshouse or debtors’ prison. If only she had made a decent marriage instead of throwing herself at the wrong sort of men.’
Did the spiteful old hag mean him?
‘Throwing herself?’ growled Callum.
Mistress Gordon droned on, seemingly oblivious to his irritation. ‘As if Hew Gordon would ever marry a pauper, no matter how bonnie. Of course, she did have an admirer in Lieutenant Forster, but an admirer is not a husband. And he is for Edinburgh and a new posting. I believe he will be seeking a good match there, as he has little in the way of fortune and must marry up. He is, no doubt, saying his goodbyes now.’ Mistress Shaw sighed. ‘Who knows what will have become of her, and it’s not as if the Lieutenant had a serious interest, I am sure. It seems Ralph Hennaut did not keep his secrets very well, and all hereabouts knew of his poverty in the end. A bonnie face never trumps that,’ she finished with utter jealousy.
‘Then Tara’s uncle was fortunate he had the friendship of you and your husband, Mistress Shaw. I am sure your loyalty was a boon to him at the end,’ spat Callum. He stalked away before the urge to slap the disloyal bitch grew too strong.
Lieutenant Forster beat a hasty retreat when he saw Callum approaching. Tara gave Callum a quick glance and looked away, but he saw tears welling in her eyes.
‘Miss Hennaut, do not be alarmed. I have only come to give you my condolences, not shout at you as I did all those weeks ago.’ Callum hung his head and worked his thumb into his palm. ‘I cannot think on it without regret.’
‘Nor I,’ she said with a catch in her breath.
Callum struggled to find something good to say about Ralph Hennaut. ‘I am sure your uncle did the best he could under trying circumstances.’
His grey eyes met her brown ones as tears overspilled them, darkening her lashes to amber, making them stick together. God, they were beautiful.
‘You were right about everything, Callum.’
‘Not everything,’ he said. ‘I spoke harshly when I meant the opposite. I am…I am not good with words…at…saying what is necessary.’
‘My uncle tried to sell me, Callum, and now I am supposed to play the grieving niece to the hilt. They expect it,’ she said, nodding to the Shaws. ‘And now you have come to gloat over it all.’
‘No, lass. That is not my meaning.’
She looked away from him out at the moors. ‘God, how I hate this place. I wish I had never come here. It has all been ruin and misery and….’ Tara gave a great, heaving sob as if she was retching up her very soul, and her knees buckled.
Callum caught her in his arms and held her up. For the briefest of moments, he had her close, strands of hair wafting against his face, and she was so fragile he felt she might break in two.
‘Oh, the poor lass,’ bleated Reverend Shaw, rushing over with Bryce and wrenching her out of Callum’s arms. Tara stared at them all with a blank look on her face as though they were strangers.
‘We must get the lass home at once,’ cried Mistress Shaw. ‘Fetch the cart we brought the coffin in. We can put her in that.’