“Would shoot you? Would cold-bloodedly try to kill you?” he finished for her, his lips twisting in a bitter sneer. “Aye, perhaps there is no way I could have known it, but I should have been expecting it, waiting for it, planning for it. I should have known better than to think your uncle would simply shrug his shoulders and walk away. I should have known that, but I didna. And because of that, you near died.”
Although she also suspected her uncle’s involvement in the attack, hearing it was a painful blow. “My uncle?” she asked, her voice quavering despite her best efforts to steady it. “He—he is the one who shot me?”
“We’ve no proof of that yet,” he said cautiously, as if regretting his impetuous words. “But I suspect as much, or that he ordered it done, which is more likely. We traced the man who did the shooting as far as the old ruins on Ben Denham, and that could implicate Dunhelm. If he is involved, that implicates the earl as well.”
Shock rendered Caroline speechless. She’d always known her uncle to be a cold, greedy monster capable of any number of vices—but murder? Could he truly order her death when it would avail him of nothing? If she died, Hugh would inherit her vast fortune, and it was certain to risk a scandal that could cost her uncle everything, his life included. Would he really have done such a thing? Then she thought of the odd way Hugh had phrased his reply, and cast him a confused look.
“You said if,” she said slowly, trying to force her frozen brain to think. “Does this mean there is some doubt in your mind that Uncle Charles could be involved?”
He paused, then gave her an admiring look. “You are too sharp by half, dearest. Yes, there is a doubt, a small one, mind, but a doubt nonetheless. Still, I have written your grandfather to inform him of what happened and asking for his advice. When his answer arrives, I’ll know better what is to be done.”
She decided she didn’t like either his words or the ominous tone in which they were spoken. “And what do you mean by that?” she asked, frowning at him in disapproval.
He reached out to twine one of her curls about his finger. He turned it to the light, studying the play of color in the soft sunlight streaming through the partially opened shutters. “He tried to kill you, mo cridhe,” he said quietly, his eyes filled with cold rage as he met her gaze. “Do you truly think that knowing that, I will let him live?”
She considered that and realized she expected nothing less from a man as hard and single-minded as Hugh. “And if it was not my uncle, who is to blame?” she asked, curiosity spurring her on.
“Whoever did it is dead,” came the calm reply. “I am MacColme of Loch Haven; no man attacks me or mine with impunity. Whoever did this, I will find him. If it takes one day or a thousand years, I will find him. And when I find him, I will kill him. I pledge this to you, my wife.”
Chapter 17
“Will you nae have some tea, Caroline?”
“Finish your sops and broth, and mind you eat every bite.”
“Annsachd, are you cold? Do you need a shawl?”
To Caroline it seemed as if the entire world had entered into a conspiracy to coddle her into an early grave, and after a sennight of such unceasing devotion she decided she’d had enough. Her arm was a long way to being better, but if the fussing didn’t stop, she feared she would go mad.
“Enough!” she exclaimed, glowering up at the three people hovering over her chaise. “Will you please stop fretting over me, and go away? I am fine, I tell you!”
Hugh, Mairi, and Aunt Egidia all drew back in stunned silence, the amazement on their faces such that Caroline was hard-pressed not to laugh. Indeed, she would have laughed, had she not feared they would take it for a sign of hysteria and send at once for the doctor. She’d escaped being bled so far, but it had been a very near thing.
“Leannan.” Hugh was the first to recover, his expression tender as he bent over her. “Is your arm paining you? Shall I carry you back to our room so that you can rest?”
Her arm was still too sore for her to fold it across her chest, and so Caroline had to make do with her most intimidating stare. “I am not tired,” she said, her voice crisp with annoyance. “And if I did need to go upstairs, I am more than capable of getting there under my own power, I assure you.”
“Then what is it you want?” Mairi was next to venture closer, her face set with worry. “Tell us what it is, and we shall do it.”
Caroline gave a heavy sigh, defeated as she often was by the burden of their obvious concern. It was hard to rage at people who wanted only to help one. She sighed again, searching for the proper words to send them on their way without giving offense. She was no closer to finding them when Aunt Egidia spoke.
“Ah, I ken, the lassie wants to be left alone,” she said, nodding her head briskly. “Why dinna you say so sooner? There was nae a need to peck off our noses, you know.”
As usual, the older woman’s acerbic manner made Caroline smile. “I hadn’t meant to peck them off,” she replied wryly. “But only to nip hard enough to send you scurrying on your way.”
“English humor,” Aunt Egidia grumbled, albeit hiding a smile. “Well, come along, Mairi.” She prodded the younger girl with her bony elbow. “ ’Tis plain we are not welcome here. But dinna think this will get you out of your afternoon’s rest,” she added, casting a final glare at Caroline. “You’ll lay down for two hours, or I’ll know the reason why!”
“Yes, Aunt Egidia.” Caroline was generous enough in victory to appear cowed. “I promise.”
“Hmph!” Aunt Egidia gave an inelegant snort, and, still muttering, led a protesting Mairi away.
Hugh watched them go, a half-smile touching his mouth. Staring at it, Caroline realized she hadn’t truly seen him smile since the day of the shooting, and she wondered if she would ever again see that sly grin of his that always set her blood aflame.
“So, mo cridhe, you’ve given us our marching orders, have you?” he said, reaching out to tenderly tuck a wayward strand of hair back beneath her cap.
“Aye, and so I have,” she replied, imitating the husky brogue that was becoming more pronounced with each passing day. It seemed the longer they were in Scotland the more Scots he became, and she fell deeper in love with him because of it. Here was a man, she thought with wifely pride, smiling up at the deeply tanned face, surrounded by the soft waves of russet-colored hair. She had long since recovered from the scalding hurt she had felt at their foolish quarrel, and was anxious to spend what time she had with him loving him.
“Lass, if it’s on my way you mean to send me, don’t smile at me like that,” he warned, his hand stealing down to give her waist a gentle squeeze.
She thrilled to his touch, for it was the first time he’d touched her in any way approaching an intimate manner since that dreadful day. She might not yet be ready for the pleasures of the marriage bed, but she ached for him to touch her as a man touches a woman.
“And what is wrong with my smile, sir?” she asked, leaning closer until the tips of her breasts were brushing against the front of his cambric shirt. His arm tightened and his eyes darkened with passion, but just as she was certain he would kiss her, he gently pushed her aside and rose to his feet.
“I must be away,” he said, his voice suddenly as cool and brisk as the wind off the loch. “MacDouglass has come from Ardrossan to discuss clan matters with me, and I’ve kept him waiting longer than I should.” He thrust a hand through his hair and cast her a brooding look. “Do you truly wish to be alone, Caroline?” he asked worriedly. “I cannot like the thought.”
Caroline smarted from his rebuff, and it was several seconds before she could answer civilly. “I do wish a few minutes to myself, yes,” she said, so frustrated and angry she felt like shrieking like a virago. She knew he was still upset by what had happened, and was understandably wary of making love with her, but she didn’t see that meant he should treat her as if she had suddenly become a leper.
“What will you do?” he asked, still taking care to keep his dista
nce from her.
“I don’t know,” Caroline replied petulantly. “Read, perhaps. Or go out into the gardens for some air. I haven’t—”
“No!” he interrupted, his eyes glittering savagely. “You’re nae to step a foot outside the great hall unless I or one of my chosen men is with you! Your word, Caroline, give it to me!”
Caroline raised her gaze to heaven in a mute plea for patience. His overprotective manner would be the death of her yet. “Very well,” she grumbled, knowing she was behaving like a spoiled child, but not particularly caring. “I promise not to leave the hall without you or your men.”
“See that you do,” he said, and turned and stalked toward the door. When he reached it he paused, his fingers gripping the handle as he turned to send her an anguished look. “I came so close to losing you once because of my carelessness,” he said, the familiar note of guilt darkening his voice, “I’ll nae risk you again.” And he opened the door and closed it quietly behind him.
After he’d gone Caroline lay back down on her chaise longue to brood over his odd behavior. Her temper cooled, and the more she considered it, the less sense it made. Why should he be so set against her going outside for a breath of air? She tucked her hand under her cheek and stared at the flames dancing in the hearth. And why should he be so adamant she have one of his hulking men-at-arms about at all times? Surely he couldn’t suspect Uncle Charles would still be hanging about the area? She’d overheard two of the maids whispering, and knew Hugh and his men had conducted a thorough house-to-house search of the entire valley, but no sign of her uncle had been found.
Or perhaps it wasn’t her uncle he feared, she thought, recalling their cryptic conversation on the day after she’d been wounded. She’d tried reopening the matter several times since then, but he either abruptly changed the subject or ignored her. She found such secretiveness decidedly vexing, but in the end she could not hold it against him. He was not the only one to keep secrets, she thought, laying her injured hand upon her stomach.
She was now certain she was indeed with child. The sickness that had plagued her before the shooting was back, and she found she wanted only to sleep. Thankfully these symptoms were accepted by Mairi and the attentive maids as being caused by her injuries, and no one seemed to think more of it. There were times when she’d catch Aunt Egidia watching her with a speculative gleam in her eyes, but as she didn’t demand answers, Caroline didn’t feel obliged to offer them.
Thinking of the babe made her think of the father, and she wondered yet again when and how she was to tell Hugh. She loved him quite desperately, but feared confessing the truth to him. She knew he had feelings for her, and before their argument she was even beginning to cautiously hope he might return her love, but now she didn’t know. He blamed himself so completely for what happened, she knew he would do or say whatever it took to make amends. If he learned she was with child, she knew he would at once confess undying love if that was what it took to keep her at his side.
But she didn’t want empty words inspired by duty and remorse, she realized bleakly. She wanted Hugh as deeply and passionately in love with her as she was with him, and that, she feared, was impossible. Hugh had entered into their marriage with the understanding it would be over in a year’s time, and in all their weeks together he’d given no indication he wanted it any other way. He cared for her, desired her, but that was all. And when the time came when she could no longer hide her condition from him, she wondered if that would be enough to make her stay.
“Wheest, lad! Are ye gone deef as well as daft?” Padruig MacDouglass growled, his jet-black eyes glittering with outrage beneath his bushy red eyebrows. “I said I’ll nae take the Dunhelm’s side agin ye in this feud, and I mean it! If my oath ’Tis nae enough for ye, then to the devil with ye!”
“And I tell you, MacDouglass, there is no feud. Not against Iain Dunhelm nor any man of Ben Denham,” Hugh responded, doing his best to keep his temper in the face of rising frustration. He’d come into the keep to find MacDouglass and twenty of his men fairly bristling with weapons and the need to make use of them. News of the attack against Caroline had circulated amongst the clans, and now many were choosing sides and lining up for a war Hugh was frantically trying to avoid. Whatever his feelings about Dunhelm’s involvement, he considered the matter a personal one, and was determined to avoid clan warfare at all cost. As Lucien had said, it would take but the hint of such a thing to bring the British army marching back into the Highlands.
“No feud, when the black-hearted bastard shoots yer wee wife from ambush like the cladhaire that he is?” MacDouglass lumbered to his feet, his huge size dwarfing even Hugh. “Christ, man, where are yer balls? Have yer years wi’ the English left ye nae more than a poor segg, with nothing a’tween yer legs?”
Hugh flushed a deep red, MacDouglass’s crude barb striking perilously close to home. “If I believed without a doubt that Dunhelm had aught to do this, I would cut his head off and display it to all,” he said, infusing the cold fury he felt into each word. “But I do have doubts, and that is why there will be no feud. You honor me with your loyalty, MacDouglass, and I thank you truly for it, but I will not be the one to break the peace between the clans. I’ll not bring war to Loch Haven.”
At first he thought his words in vain, but slowly the fire died in the huge Scot’s eyes, and he lowered himself back onto his chair. “Ye’re a different man from yer father,” he said after a moment, folding his arms across his massive chest and eyeing Hugh with open speculation. “Douglas MacColme would bluster and rage, like me, and go off like a half-grown laddie with nae a thought to the consequences. But ye, ye’re colder, I ken; more watchful-like, and sharp as the blade of a claymore.” A wide grin split his bearded face. “I dinna think I would choose to ride against ye, laird. Ye would make a fearsome enemy.”
“And I would hope, a better friend.” Hugh rose to his feet to offer the other man his hand. “Thank you again, Padruig. It means much to me to know I have your support.”
The laird of the MacDouglasses stood to his full height, his ham-sized fist giving Hugh a thump to the back that all but sent him sprawling. “Aye, that you have, MacColme,” he roared. “Even though ye’ll nae let me and my chieftains have our bit of fun and slay a few of those useless sots. They’re Dunhelms, lad. ’Tis nae as if they’d be missed!”
When Hugh had recovered from the friendly blow he offered MacDouglass and his men some whiskey to ease their parched throats, an offer they welcomed with the same enthusiasm as they would have welcomed a war. Hugh escorted his guests to the great hall, making certain they had all that they required before excusing himself. Clan custom required he stay to drink with his guests, but he disliked the idea of leaving Caroline alone for very long. And, he admitted with a self-deprecating grin, because he much doubted he could keep pace with the amazing quantities of whiskey being drunk. He hadn’t the head or the stomach for such excesses.
He checked to make certain there would be beds for all who drank themselves into stupors, and then quietly slipped away. He was walking up the stairs to return to his room when he heard his name called, and turned to see Lucien Raghnall standing there.
“A moment of your time, MacColme, if I may,” he said, his expression somber. “I have news for you.”
Hugh tensed, a cold feeling of dread settling into the pit of his stomach. He’d assigned Lucien the sensitive task of finding proof if a member of his own clan had shot Caroline, and from the looks of him, ’Twould seem he had found it.
“In my study,” he said, his blood turning to ice as he silently led the way into the back part of the castle. Don’t let it be true, he thought, schooling his own face to show nothing of his raw emotions. Dear God, don’t let it be true.
Once they were inside the study, Hugh did a quick search of the small anteroom adjacent to the study to make sure they were truly alone, and only when he was certain did he turn back to Lucien. “Tell me what you have found,” he said, steeling h
imself.
But instead of answering, Lucien leaned back in his chair. “I see you’ve convinced MacDouglass there’s nae a fight to be had, and still he’s happy,” he said, his eyes looking anywhere but at Hugh. “You’re to be congratulated, laird. I dinna think it possible to placate that great bear once he’d caught a whiff of blood.”
But Hugh would not be diverted. He sensed the other man was stalling, and it only added to the pain he was feeling. “Lucien,” he ground out between clenched teeth, “tell me.”
Lucien looked at him then, and the pity that he saw there gave Hugh the answer he had been fearing … and expecting.
“There’s a young crofter, name of Labhruinn,” he began carefully. “He’s nae a MacColme, although his mother has claims upon the clan. He came to Loch Haven about two years ago, and a surly, disagreeable sort he has been from the first. He hates the English most especially, and I have myself heard him saying some unflattering things about your wife.”
Hugh’s hands clenched into fists. “And you didna think to tell me of this?” he demanded furiously. “Even when I most specifically charged you to do so?”
“Hugh, you must believe me—had I thought for even one moment that he posed a true danger to you or your wife, I would ha’ told you at once! But I took him for naught but a drunkard and a fool, a bragoil who too well liked the sound of his own mewling. I never paid the slightest mind to his threats and his mutterings, but now I wish I had.”
Now that he had a name to go with the hate building inside him, Hugh could let himself relax. “Where is Labhruinn now?” he asked, his voice utterly calm, utterly devoid of the smallest inflection of humanity. In his mind’s eye he was already at the crofter’s rough hut; already killing him.
“That is what convinced me of his guilt,” Lucien said with visible regret. “The lad’s gone.”
“Gone?” Hugh scarcely recognized the sound of his own voice.
Rose In Scotland Page 27