Highland Island (Book 6)

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"Murray, I managed to bring you some oatcakes. The last of tonight, Cook is about to stop serving, so I thought I would bring these down for you." With a sweet smile, she stepped through the doorway. "I have the mead Uncle Artair asked for as well." Murray was not supposed to be letting her through this time, it was up to Isla to make sure that they had access after the mead had been consumed.

"Oatcakes?" Murray loomed over her, his shadow covering her as he towered over her shoulder, trying to peak at the plate in her hand. "I thought she only did then for when we broke out fast." The hunger in his voice was tantamount.

"She does, but she has a fondness for them herself. I may have taken them for you this eve." Smiling over her shoulder at him, she placed the oatcakes on the table on a clean part of the table. "If you will give me a few minutes I will collect the tray and clean away all the used things." Thrusting the mead jug into his hands, she dodged around him, but did not manage to leave before he could say anything.

"Isla, Artair said you could leave these for the night. Collect them in the morn." He was the one to place the mead on the table.

Wringing her hands she tried to think around the problem, she needed to have a reason to come back down here. Shaking her head, she smiled at him hoping to make it as innocent an expression as possible. "Oh, I would wish to do so. But Cook will not have the washing brought up tomorrow morn, it must be this eve, or it will be my head that is forfeit. She will not go after Artair, we both know that." She tired for a rueful smile and only hoped it worked as she shrugged to emphasise her point.

Murray looked back towards the door Artair had disappeared through earlier. "Aye, we both know she won't go for Artair." He looked at his feet before glancing over at her once more. "Your Uncle is a good man Isla. The clan knows what he does is important, but they do not want to face what they ask him to do. Do not listen to them, I pray you do not listen to them."

Her hands fluttered as she did not know what to do with them. "Aye, I know he is. The clan just does not understand. I know that. I just meant that I did not want to deal with Cook's bad mood, not that it would be my Uncle's fault in anyway." The guilt was like a stone in her stomach. The more she spoke of her Uncle, the more she wished she did not have to go through with tonight. Nevertheless, if bloodshed would occur tonight, around this area, her uncle could be one who is killed. That she could not allow. "I will only be a few minutes. I just need to collect a tray to help with the dishes." Spinning she grabbed a hold of the edge of the door, just about to step through as Murray spoke once more.

She really could not catch a break at this point. Why could she not just leave this room to take a breath once more? The guilt was riding her hard at this point. She was sure it was written all over her face.

"I am sure there is something around here that could be used. Save you coming down the stairs once more." Murray was already looking around, trying to be useful for her. As much as she would have loved this at any other time. The trek up and down to the dungeon was never easy when carrying anything, but right now she needed Murray to be the silent man he usually is.

"Oh, Murray, do not concern yourself. Cook is very particular. I will not be long at all. If you need to be in with Artair, then you can leave the door unlocked and I will knock on when I am about to leave." She held her breath knowing that it was too good to be true. He would never accept that idea. He stared at her a moment and she knew that he was trying to grasp what she was thinking, trying to see the inner workings of her mind.

As he reached for his waist, she never thought it would come to a member of her clan taking her down at sword point. But instead of going for his short sword handle, he went for the three keys attached to his belt. Pulling one free he stepped forward. Holding out a large brass key, it seemed a lot smaller in his hand than when she found hers grasping at it without her knowledge of reaching for it. The cold, heavy metal was more dangerous right now that a sharpened dagger. By handing over this key Murray had no idea what he was handing over to her. And what she would do with it.