Highland Sinner
blessing of it.” Nora sat up straighter and looked Morainn right in the eye. “I told them that ye will be my attendant.”
    “Och, nay, Nora,” Morainn began to protest.
    “Aye, and I am proud to say that they gave me no argument, so ye need nay fret that ye will be unwelcome. The only question they had was, weel, about Walin. Ye ken that near everyone whispers that he is your bastard child.”
    “I ken it. It stings sometimes and can cause me a wee bit of trouble with men, but I would ne’er give him up.”
    “And so I told them. I also told them the truth about how he came to be living with ye. Do ye ken, the fact that ye kept the lad despite the trouble it has caused ye and the harm it has done to your good name
    —”
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    “What good name? Ross witch?”
    Nora ignored that and continued, “And the fact that ye were still struggling to survive yourself seemed to win them o’er to your side immediately. That and the fact that ye were but thirteen when ye were tossed out to live all on your own. And done verra weel, too. They hadnae realized that ye were so verra young.
    So, ye will be there for me, aye?”
    Morainn had a lot of doubts about the wisdom of joining in Nora’s wedding, but she buried them deep inside of herself. Nora and her family had not had the power to stop Morainn’s banishment, but their help was one reason she had survived it, even flourished. They never hesitated to argue the ugly rumors that constantly circulated about her, either.
    “Aye, I will be there. When?”
    “A month from this Sabbath Day. And Walin must come as weel.” Before Morainn could think of a good argument for that, Nora continued, “Now, the other reason I have come is because there is news.” She sighed and then took a deep drink of cider. “Another woman has been murdered.”
    “Och, nay.” Morainn suddenly knew that was why she had seen the bloody knife in her dream this time.
    “Aye. Lady Marie Campbell, married to the laird of Banloch. He is in town to sell the woolens his clan makes and see if he can wrestle a few agreements for trade out of some of the other lairds gathered here.
    At least this woman wasnae carrying a bairn.”
    “One of the others was carrying a bairn?”
    “Lady Isabella. I grieve for her husband as the bairn couldnae have been his. It seems he had but just returned from a trip to France that had lasted for a six-month. The bairn his wife was carrying was but newly begun.”
    “Oh, I had heard that she was faithful to her husband, unlike the Lady Clara.”
    “It appears not. T’isnae weel kenned, mind ye. Naught but a whisper. I suspect her good reputation will be what is most spoken of. Most dinnae like to speak ill of the dead. Weel, at least until she begins to be forgotten. Howbeit, Lady Marie was a good wife, loved her husband and he her. He is utterly desolate.
    He is readying himself to take her body home. Poor, poor mon. He is a widower now with two young sons.”
    “What is happening here?” muttered Morainn. “Oh, we have had violent deaths before, but none like these. Nay highborn women and nay so brutal. Usually it is naught but idiot men slashing at each other o’
    er some imagined insult or a theft, but e’en a death whilst being robbed isnae so verra common.”
    Nora shook her head, her reddish brown curls bouncing wildly with the movement. “I dinnae ken what is happening, either. Aye, when the court is near as it is now, there can be added troubles, but ne’er anything like this. Ye are quite right about that. And, talk has become quite heated about a mon named Sir Tormand Murray. It appears that he kenned all of these women ere they were married. Some people find that verra suspicious.”
    “He is innocent. The mon may be a rutting fool, but he isnae a killer.”
    Nora blinked in surprise. “Do ye ken the mon weel then?”
    Morainn grimaced and idly rubbed at her

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