Lilidh didn’t answer, and he walked back to the West Gate in thoughtful silence. She didn’t seem quite as angry or combative as she had over the previous few days. Perhaps they just needed time, and for her to see that he was sincere in his intentions. Well, if there were any two things he had in abundance, it was time, and a sincerity to his promise.
The moment the West Gate came into his view, Mathe’s thoughts were interrupted.
Something was afoot.
Outside the door, two men loitered suspiciously, doing their best to look casual and failing miserably. They were big lads, each with a soldier’s build. As he ducked through the front door, the two men looked anywhere but in his direction.
“Ah, there ye are,” Rabby said, hurrying forward. Behind him, Fergus stood at the stairs that led up to the rooms, his arms crossed. More men sat spread out through the common room.
“I suspect my farseeing eye has been opened, Rabby,” Mathe said as he took off his cloak.
“Eh?” the innkeeper asked with a frown.
“I see a visit from the laird in my immediate future.”
Fergus barked a laugh. “Best run upstairs, MacBrennan, we dinnae have all night.”
“Aye,” he muttered, pushing away the sudden and strange nervousness that bloomed in the pit of his stomach. Was it because he didn’t want to see Blaine McCaskill, the lad that had grown into a man? Or was it the strange feeling that he was about to be mixed up in something he had no desire to be? At his door another man stood at attention, carrying a sword. As Mathe stepped past, the soldier raised a hand and lay it on his chest.
“Naught funny,” he said. “Ye’ll never get out alive.”
Mathe raised his own hand and gently pushed the man’s arm off him. “Same to ye, lad.”
The door was ajar, so he pushed it open and stepped inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light in the room. The laird sat on a chair by the window and he was illuminated by the fading afternoon light.
He was big, Mathe admitted. Surprisingly big. Maybe he really was the man they spoke about, down in the Fleet; the Highland warrior terrorising Englishmen, killing men left and right. He certainly didn’t look a stranger to the sword he wore so comfortably. Mathe looked the man in the eyes and saw the hardness within. His own eyes had looked much like that, he knew, before prison dulled them. The silence grew between them into almost a palpable thing; something he could reach out and touch. His heart beat faster in his chest and a familiar feeling of anticipation came over him, as it always used to before violence.
Then he remembered himself, and why he was here.
“Laird,” Mathe said, bowing his head.
He felt, rather than saw, the other man relax slightly, and a measure of tension left the room.
“Mathe MacBrennan,” Blaine said finally.
“Le Ravageur du Lion,” Mathe replied, giving the name of that feared Highland warrior he’d heard about.
The laird gave a faint smile. “Once upon a time. How did ye hear about that?”
“I spent six years in the Fleet,” Mathe said. “A prison in London. Word of yer exploits got around.”
“I’ve heard of that place,” Blaine replied. “Terrible, from the tales.”
“Worse than ye can imagine.”
“And now ye’re back in Dun Lagaidh. To make amends with yer wife, my steward tells me.”
Mathe nodded. “Aye, he has it true.”
“And to be a better person?”
“Aye.”
“Do ye think the wrongs of the past can ever be set right?” Blaine asked.
“That sounds like a question for yer brother and his God,” Mathe said. “I can certainly try, though.”
“He was beside himself to learn that ye’ve returned, did ye know that? I’ve never seen him so distressed.” Blaine spoke the words evenly, but Mathe detected the anger that lay under the surface.
“He was a tender lad,” he said.
“And ye were a monster. Ye and my father.”
“Aye,” Mathe said with a slow nod. “We were.”
“I dinnae want ye in my town.”
“I ken.”
“And yet ye have nay intention to leave.”
“I cannae,” Mathe said. “I’m sure yer steward told ye that as well.”
Blaine nodded and fell silent, watching Mathe with unblinking eyes. “There’s something I need to ask ye,” he said finally.
“Then ask.”
“Did ye kill the auld Laird McPhee?”
Mathe looked back at the man, wondering why this, of all questions, was the thing that Blaine asked of him. “Ye married the young McPhee lass?” he asked at last.
“Aye,” Blaine replied.
Mathe nodded. “Well, in that case, ye can tell yer pretty young wife that I had naught to do with the death of her father.”
The laird’s eyes narrowed. “Naught at all? I find that hard to believe, Mathe.”
“Believe it or no', that’s up to ye,” he said with a shrug. “But know that I was yer father’s sword, no' his torturer. I remember that night well, as it happens, and I was at home with my wife. Ye can ask her yerself; I hear she works for ye, these days.”
“Ye werenae involved in his capture?”
“Nay, laird,” Mathe said, and then looked down briefly. “I didnae agree with what yer father did to the auld Laird McPhee.”
“I thought ye agreed with my father in all things.”
“Most. I knew what he planned, but I didnae think it would help our cause. I kept myself away.”
“Did ye argue with him?” Blaine asked.
“Nay, Blaine, I didnae argue with him.”
“Ye were close. Ye could have stood up to him. Perhaps he might have listened to ye.”
Mathe frowned. “Dinnae forget that he was my employer, no' my family, despite how close we were. Ye could say that standing up to the auld laird wasnae in my job description.”
“Ye were verra quick to hold yer sword to my throat when I stood up to him,” Blaine said quietly.
“Ye approached the laird with open steel, and I had a duty to protect him,” Mathe replied with a shrug. “That was in my job description.”
Blaine nodded and rubbed his jaw. “Well, ye were certainly loyal, if naught else. Although I admit I’m surprised to hear ye say that ye disagreed with father on some matters.”
“More and more, if ye must know,” Mathe said. “The worst came after ye'd already left.”
“So I’ve heard,” Blaine said.
“Yer father changed, Blaine, and I’m ashamed to say that I changed with him.”
“Ashamed?”
“Aye, ashamed,” Mathe said. “Does that surprise ye?”
“I think it would be verra easy for ye to tell me what ye think I wanted to hear, whether it was the truth or no',” Blaine said slowly.
“I cannae make up yer mind for ye, Laird McCaskill. I’m no' here to convince ye.”
“Only to convince yer wife.”
“I cannae make her mind up, either,” Mathe muttered. Then he shook his head. “Nay matter. Perhaps we should talk about why ye’re here, instead? I doubt this was a social visit to reminisce about auld times.”
“Ye'd be right,” Blaine answered. “So tell me, what do ye know about the state of things in the town?”
“No' one thing,” Mathe answered. “When I came back, I also decided to keep to myself. Whatever happens around me isnae my affair, and I’ll be keeping it that way.”
“Sometimes we arenae given the choice,” Blaine said. “Ye are who ye are.”
“And what does me being me have to do with the events of yer town?”
“There’s a plot underway to have me… removed,” Blaine said. “Permanently, ye might say.”
“That’s unfortunate for ye.”
“And for ye too,” Blaine said.
“Why?”
“Because it’s almost certainly being orchestrated by people still loyal to my father.”
/>
Mathe looked down and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yer father’s long dead. And unlike me, he’s likely to stay there.”
“These men are loyal to my father’s style of rule, I should say. I’m keeping us neutral in an escalating conflict that may well end in war, and some people are no' happy about it.”
“Round them up,” Mathe said with a shrug. “Throw them in the dungeon. Ye're the laird, arenae ye?”
“I am,” Blaine said, “and I would. If I knew who they were.”
Mathe stood suddenly and walked to the window, unlatching and pushing it open. “Hot in here,” he muttered.
Blaine also stood. He was tall, but still only came up to Mathe’s chin. “These men keep themselves in the shadows, Mathe. It would take something extraordinary to have them reveal themselves.”
“Extraordinary like the return of the auld laird’s lieutenant,” Mathe said with a sinking feeling.
“Aye, my thoughts exactly.”
He began to pace up and down the small room. “I’m no' here to get involved in yer plots, laird.”
“Ye're here to be a better person.”
“Aye,” Mathe said, “to Lilidh and the lad.”
“Ye owe a lot more people than that, MacBrennan,” Blaine said.
Mathe frowned and paused. “Are ye saying I owe ye, Laird McCaskill?”
“I’m saying there’s more to redemption than helping one person, or even two. And besides that, I’d compensate ye more than fairly.”
“And what would ye need from me?”
“Names. Naught more than that. Give me the instigators and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Weed them out from within, ye mean.”
Blaine shook his head. “Weeding implies ye would be on the inside. Part of the plot. That’s no' the case, is it? Ye're just an innocent bystander, and if ye happened to be approached by someone, well, ye’re just trying to do the right thing.”
“Nobody will reveal themselves to me until I prove loyal to their cause,” Mathe said. “Ye know that.”
“Then I’ll leave it to ye to decide how best to get those names,” Blaine replied.
Mathe collapsed back into his chair and looked down at his boots. He knew this would help his relationship with the laird and, by extension, the town. And yet he made a promise to himself to keep away from things that didn’t concern him. The dark road that he traveled with the old laird was illuminated by the plots of others, and he remembered all too well how many pies he had fingers in. If he agreed, then where did it stop? And if it didn’t stop, then how long until it put Lilidh at risk once again?
“I cannae,” Mathe said, looking up.
“Cannae, or willnae?” Blaine asked quietly.
“Willnae. I’m sorry Laird McCaskill, but I’m here for one thing only, and that’s to help my family.”
The laird nodded slowly. “And there’s nay reward I could offer that would change yer mind?”
“I dinnae need anything from ye.”
“Aye. Well, in that case, I appreciate yer honesty.” Then he paused. “And, Mathe, know that I’ve been honest with ye, too. Perhaps more than I should. Ye know things ye shouldnae have any right to know.”
“I’m only here for my family,” Mathe repeated.
“Good. Dinnae join these men. They willnae succeed, whether I have yer help or no'. Best for ye to remember yer promise to yer wife.”
Mathe nodded. “I ken.”
“I admit I hoped for better, but I cannae fault yer resolve. I wish ye the best for ye and yer family.”
Mathe stood. “My thanks,” he said.
The two men looked at each other for a long moment, then Blaine nodded once more and swept past him and out of the room.
10
Lilidh MacBrennan
“Fynn, please eat yer porridge,” Lilidh said. “I need to leave soon so I can get up to the castle.”
The boy grumbled as she dressed and moved around the room to clean things up at the same time. She felt like her mornings had been all over the place since she started working again, trying to get ready while still having breakfast and then cleaning up and getting the house in order for Fynn. Although she hadn’t been late to work yet, she knew it was only a matter of time, and wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Margaret’s wrath; the chamberlain had a well-known grudge against tardiness.
It certainly didn’t help that she couldn’t stop thinking of Mathe’s words and the conversation they had. Would it have truly been better for Fynn if Mathe had never come back? They certainly enjoyed each other’s company while working together in the stables; in fact, it seemed to be all that Fynn had spoken about since then. One part of her knew how important it was for the boy to have some type of interaction with another male, but then the reminder of Mathe’s past actions rose to the forefront, and she asked herself yet again how she would ever explain things to the boy if Mathe disappeared once more.
Never mind the fact that Fynn still had no idea that Mathe was his father. Lilidh stifled a groan, wondering why things were suddenly so complicated. And why was Mathe all she could seem to think about? If he truly meant nothing, as she’d said when he first knocked on her door, then she should have been able to put him out of her mind. And yet any time she had idle thoughts, they returned to him. It was maddening, the way her unconscious mind seemed to work against her.
“That’s it, Fynn,” she said in exasperation, her voice getting louder. “If ye dinnae eat that porridge -”
Her words were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Fynn immediately leaped off his chair and ran over to open it. He flung it wide and looked out with a beaming smile.
“Mathe!” he cried.
A tall shadow paused at the door, looking in. “Good morning, Fynn,” he said, his voice a low burr. “I hope ye’re eating yer porridge.”
“Of course,” the boy replied as he climbed back up into his chair, spooning his porridge in with gusto. “See?” he asked with his mouth full.
Lilidh frowned at him, then turned to Mathe and her frown only deepened. Why were her knees suddenly weak? “Were ye listening to us?” she demanded.
Mathe gave a faint smile. “I didnae need to. I could hear yer voice from the street. I dinnae ever remember ye being so loud. Well, apart from -”
“What do ye want, Mathe?” she interrupted with a shake of her head.
He inclined his head towards Fynn. “I’ve picked up a new job. A table, and a big one. I could use the lad’s help.”
Fynn’s eyes widened, and he looked at Lilidh. “Oh mama, can I -”
Lilidh raised her hand, and he fell silent, although still clearly close to bursting with the need to speak, bouncing up and down on his chair in excitement. “For how long?” she asked.
“All day, and likely more over the next few days. It’s a decent job. Fynn was a big help with the chairs, and some planks would certainly benefit from having two people to move them around.”
“Oh mama, I’m good at moving -” Fynn cut himself off again as Lilidh glared at him.
“Ye want to use my son for labour,” she said. “What exactly would he be doing?”
“I’ll get him started on the wood blades, first,” Mathe said. “Then I’ll teach him how to use some auld wire to heat red-hot for the detailing.”
“Ye're joking,” Lilidh said at his words, gripped by a sudden image of Fynn with sharp blades and the fear that it brought.
“Aye, Lilidh, I’m joking,” Mathe replied. “The lad will help much as he did the other day; gathering nails, helping me to place and set the wood, handing me tools when I need them. He’ll no' touch anything dangerous, ye have my word.”
“Does yer word mean much these days Mathe?”
“I want Fynn to help,” Mathe said, ignoring her question. “But only if it’s alright with his mother.”
Fynn’s eyes were wide, and he looked from Lilidh to Mathe and back again, his little legs swinging under his chair. When she glanced a
t him, he looked back imploringly and put his hands together, silently begging her. Her lips pursed.
“At least ye had the decency to ask, this time,” she admitted grudgingly. Then she looked back at Fynn once more and gave a heavy sigh. “Fine, ye can take him for the day.”
The boy jumped down with a whoop, clapping his hands and dancing around the room. The sight was so ridiculous that Lilidh couldn’t help but smile, and she glanced up at Mathe to see him looking down at the boy with a smile of his own. It was an old smile, without the cruelty that she remembered from his last years in Dun Lagaidh. It was the type of smile that he had given her in the early days of their marriage, when Mathe was a young man trying to find his way in life, before he’d met the old laird and started down a darker path. It was a handsome smile, and once again her body betrayed her.
Mathe’s eyes fell on her and for one moment they simply looked at one another, still wearing their smiles.
It almost felt like they were smiling at each other.
“Mathe, a word outside?” she asked.
The sun was just breaking over the roofs of the surrounding buildings and the sky overhead was brightening into a brilliant blue. It would be a wonderful day. They stepped out onto the porch and Mathe closed the door behind her.
“What’s yer end goal here, Mathe?” Lilidh asked quietly.
“Ye know my goals. I’ve made a promise to myself, and to ye, and made nay secret of that.”
Lilidh nodded slowly. “Let’s assume that ye’re telling the truth for one moment.”
“I am.”
Lilidh held up one hand. “Mathe, indulge me. Let’s assume ye’re telling the truth, and ye stay in Dun Lagaidh. Asking as the lad’s mother, I need to know what yer intentions are with Fynn.”
Mathe nodded and fell silent for a moment. “Does he know anything about his father?”
Lilidh shook her head. “Nay, he doesnae. He’s asked, but I tell him that no' everyone has a father.”
“And that he doesnae need one,” Mathe said.
Lilidh grew angry, but kept her voice down lest it carried back into the house. “What choice did I have, Mathe? Tell him that of course he needed one, but he wasnae getting it all the same?”
A Price to Be Paid: A Scottish Highlander Romance (Legacy of the Laird Book 2) Page 10