Page 13 of McKenna’s Honor (The Clan MacDougall #4)

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T he wagon taking Angus and Duncan to Stirling was dark and reeked of sweat, urine and fear, no doubt left behind by its prior occupants. The breeze flittering in through the bars did nothing more than swirl the stench. Angus felt that no amount of soap and water would ever get rid of the foul smell. The only solution to getting rid of it would be to set the wagon afire.

Rain fell steadily against the roof of the wagon. It reminded Angus of ham frying in a skillet, which in turn made his stomach growl and his mouth water. With his eyes closed, he leaned against the wall of the wagon and thought of home.

What he would not give to be back there, home, to smell baking bread wafting through the air, or better yet, some of Mary’s sweet cakes. He missed everything about Castle Gregor, from the stables to the pastures to Mary’s kitchen to his private chambers and everything in between.

He could picture the rolling hills and the way the tall grass waved in the breeze. The sound of the wind as it danced through the treetops would seem like music to his ears right now. He could hear the blacksmith banging his hammer against the anvil, sheep bleating from the hill and the newborn calves crying to be fed.

He pictured the children running from the courtyard to the top of the hill, their laughter floating along the summer breeze, none of them with a care in the world. There were many times, such as now, when he wished he could go back in time and be a child again. He sometimes wondered what he would change and what he would want to remain the same.

A tremendous sense of melancholy began to settle into his bones as they traveled to Stirling. Angus longed to be home, where he would plunge himself into the loch and take his grandsons fishing.

Between his blood children and those he adopted, he now had fourteen grandchildren: eleven boys and three girls. He would miss watching them grow up.

More than anything else, however, Angus missed his wife. Isobel was as good a woman as could be found. She was beautiful, strong and intelligent. What he would not give to run his fingers through her raven-black hair and breathe in the scent of her, to wrap his arms around her and hold her for eternity.

He knew he didn’t deserve her. She loved him fiercely and without reserve. He owed her his life, for it was Isobel who had gotten him through the most difficult heartache any man could endure: the loss of the woman he loved and the child she carried. Angus had fallen into a deep depression when he had learned of Laiden’s death. He took to drinking every waking hour of the day. Had Isobel not been there to help him climb out of the abyss, he most assuredly would not be alive today.

He hadn’t known at the time however, that ’twas all a lie, that the woman he loved and their babe in fact lived. It had been his own brother who had betrayed him, lied to him in order that he could have Laiden for himself.

There were times when he did wonder how differently his life would have been had he not believed his brother. Had he gone in search of her and found Laiden, he would not now be married to Isobel and they would never have had Bree.

It amazed him how one small lie, one small act, could affect the lives of countless people. Such as the lie he was now embroiled in. Lies, deceit, and greed -- things he could not abide and had never engaged in until the past few years. Had he known then what he knew now, he might have chosen a different path.

But as it was, it was too late to change things. He had made his bed and now, he must hang in it.