“I don’t doubt it,” he said wryly. “Is there anything else on your mind before I see to my men?”
“As a matter of fact, there is.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
She ignored the put-upon sarcasm. “The way you left, it was so sudden.”
“I regret not being able to explain, but in this case it was necessary.”
“Surely you could have spared five minutes?”
“What needed to be said required longer than five minutes.”
“Be that as it may, the next time you try to leave with nary a fare-thee-well, I will not be so understanding.”
He lifted a brow as if contradicting her claim of understanding. “I’ll remember that.”
“What was so important to take you from here like that?”
He sighed, dragged his fingers through his hair, and then gave her lopsided grin. “My duties, it appears, will have to wait.” He strode to the fireplace and pulled out a chair, offering it to her. She took the proffered seat, and he pulled another chair opposite her for himself.
She could tell by the grave expression on his face that it was serious.
“You are not going to like what I have to say. But, please, before you say anything, hear me out.”
Caitrina’s heart thumped, suspecting what he was about to say.
“Alasdair MacGregor is dead.”
She flinched from the blow. Dear God, Niall had been right. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but here it was straight from Jamie’s mouth.
She sat stonily as he relayed the story of Argyll’s treachery exactly as her brother had described it.
Please, she prayed. Don’t let it be worse. “And what was your part in this, my laird?” she asked hesitantly. “Aside from negotiating the MacGregor’s surrender?”
He took her hand and looked deep into her eyes. “I swear, Caitrina, I knew nothing of my cousin’s plans. I thought he had every intention of handing the MacGregor over to King James. When I received Argyll’s note that the MacGregor had been killed in Edinburgh, I knew something had gone horribly wrong. I also suspected the reason. That is why I left without explanation—I had none to give until I spoke to my cousin.” His face darkened. “I was furious when I realized what he’d done.”
Caitrina searched his face. He looked so sincere, and she wanted desperately to believe him. But could she risk it? Jamie had never shied from the fact that he was Argyll’s man. His enforcer. Could he ever belong to her when his loyalty was tied to Argyll? Was Niall right? Was she a fool to trust him?
Her silence appeared to worry him. “Tell me you believe me.”
His voice was insistent, but not pleading. She understood why. He was a proud, honorable man. When he answered, he’d told her the truth and would not beg for her to believe him. That was not his way.
The truth. It was the truth, she realized. “I believe you, but what you knew won’t matter. You negotiated the surrender, and you will take the blame for what happened. It will be assumed that you knew what your cousin intended.”
He grimaced. “Aye. I said much the same to my cousin.”
His anger at Argyll seemed real enough. Maybe good could come of this after all—if Jamie broke with his cousin. “And what justification did he offer for betraying you like this?”
Jamie sighed. “I don’t think he thought about how this would affect me at all. He’s been under extreme pressure from the king to quiet the Highlands and Alasdair MacGregor in particular. These past few months, he’s thought of little else. But no matter how justified the MacGregor’s death, the trick was unworthy of him.”
She couldn’t believe it. “He still has your loyalty?”
His jaw hardened at the implied criticism. “He does. My first impulse was to turn in my sword, but I realized that to do so would be shortsighted. I’m well aware of my cousin’s failings. Argyll isn’t perfect, but I still believe that ultimately he is the best hope for the Highlands. Neither side is one hundred percent right, Caitrina, but eventually we all must pick one.”
The observation struck her—he was right. It wasn’t just a question of who was right and who was wrong. No matter how much she wished it were easy, eventually she would have to choose. This was what it meant to grow up. The ignorance of her youth had been deceptively simple.
“For me,” he continued, “the balance still weighs strongly in favor of my cousin. He has the power to make change and wants the same things I do.”
“And what is that?”
“Peace. Safety. Land for our people. Argyll has a blind spot where the MacGregors are concerned, but he’s fiercely loyal to his friends and a fair chief.”
“Fair? How can you say that after what he did to you?”
“That’s just it, it wasn’t to me at all.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “You don’t know him like I do.”
Nor did she wish to. “What is this bond between you?”
He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, then finally decided to answer her. “How much do you know about my father?”
“Very little.” Only what Meg confided and what she’d picked up here and there.
“He died at the battle of Glenlivet, taking a musket shot meant for Argyll, barely a year after my mother passed. Elizabeth and I spent most of our time with my cousin and the former countess at Inveraray. Argyll has been like a father to me. My own believed in him enough to give his life for him, and that is not something I take lightly.”
Caitrina knew there was much he was leaving out—about his eldest brother in particular—but the gist was clear. There was a personal connection between Jamie and Argyll that went far deeper than she’d realized. They were not simply chief and captain, but family bound by blood and sacrifice.
“And for his part,” he continued, “my cousin has always looked out for Elizabeth and me. I was barely ten and eight when he made me a captain and not much older than that when he started having me represent him to the Privy Council. I owe him much for my position and fortune—he’s provided me opportunities for advancement not common to a third son.”
It sounded as though Argyll’s indebtedness to Jamie’s father had extended to the son. But it was also clear that the bond between Argyll and Jamie ran in both directions.
“His actions have stretched my loyalty to the breaking point, but it is still there. He wronged me,” Jamie admitted. “Badly. And he knows it. But it won’t happen again.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I am. That’s all. You’ll have to trust me. My cousin is not a perfect man, but I believe in him and what he is doing.”
Could she do that? How could she reconcile the man she’d come to care for as the loyal captain of a man she could not abide?
“So that’s it. You forgive him just like that?”
“No.” He hesitated, looking as if he wanted to say something. “It’s not that simple. When the time comes, my cousin will make amends.”
“How? Will he clear your name and publicly absolve you of complicity with his treachery in the death of the MacGregor?”
A wry smile curved Jamie’s mouth and he shook his head. “No one would believe him if he did.”
The discussion with Caitrina had gone better than he’d expected. Jamie had been tempted to confess his bargain with his cousin, but in doing so, he would have to tell her the rumors about her brother and he still wasn’t sure he wanted to do that.
She’d been upset by the news of the MacGregor’s death but not shocked, which made him wonder whether she’d already heard about it. He would soon find out.
Jamie made his way down the stairs and across the great hall to the laird’s solar, knowing his men were waiting for him.
What he would really like was a hot bath and food, but both would have to wait—as would a proper reunion with his wife.
His body hardened at the memory of their passionate kiss and how good it had felt to hold her in his arms again. Too good.
If he hadn’t been i
n such a sorry state, he might have showed her exactly how much he’d missed her—not that his rough appearance had seemed to bother her any. His mouth curved. His wee princess apparently had a wild streak.
Princess. Odd that the old nickname had come back to him. He wondered why. Frowning, he realized it wasn’t because she’d purchased the new gowns as she’d promised. His injury and subsequent orders to keep her confined to the castle had prevented that, but now that he was back he would see it rectified right away.
Nay, it was something else. A subtle difference that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
He recalled her sudden appearance and how his relief at seeing her had turned to suspicion. He could have sworn he’d smelled the wind in her hair and felt the chill of the cold on her ruddy cheeks. And then there was the fresh mud he’d noticed on her skirts. He was almost positive that she’d come from outside and not the kitchens. But she’d seemed sincere in her explanation. Perhaps he’d been mistaken.
Her passion and happiness to see him had certainly been genuine.
That was the difference: She seemed happy. The shadow of grief that had followed her since the death of her family had lifted. Though he would like to take credit for the transformation, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was another reason.
He opened the door to the solar and strode in, seeing Will, the captain of his guardsmen, and a handful of his other men who’d stayed behind waiting for him.
They stood as he entered. “My laird,” Will said, coming forward. “ ’Tis good to see your safe return.”
Jamie motioned for the men to sit and took his place at the head of the table. “You received my missive?” He had sent word of the MacGregor’s death with instructions for his men to increase their vigilance—but to make no mention to the Lamonts.
Will nodded. “Yes, my laird. We’ve increased our scouting around the area, but there has been no sign of anything unusual or of any outlaws.”
“And has word of the MacGregor’s death spread?”
The guardsman shook his head. “Not from what we can tell, though the Lamonts have not been eager to take us in their confidence. Conversation tends to come to a sudden stop when we draw near.”
Hardly surprising, given the tensions between the clans. Still, though communication was poor on the Western Isles and it could take many days for news to travel to Edinburgh, Jamie was surprised that word of the MacGregor’s death had yet to reach them.
“Have you noticed any signs of unease or discord?”
“No more than usual.”
The discussion turned to the status of the repairs on Ascog before returning to the Lamonts.
“You’ve kept a close eye on Seamus and his men?” Jamie asked.
“Aye,” Will replied. “He’s been remarkably quiet.”
Jamie frowned, not liking the sound of that. Snakes were most dangerous when you couldn’t hear them.
“He spends most of his day at Ascog, working on the roof,” Will continued. “Including taking over much of the tree felling for himself.”
Jamie’s gaze narrowed. “In the forest?”
Will nodded. “We had the same concern, but he’s been followed and nothing ever appears out of the ordinary. He’s never absent longer than a few hours.”
“I see.”
“Did I misunderstand your instructions? The Lamont’s former guardsmen are not prisoners?”
Jamie shook his head. “No, they are not prisoners. They can come and go as they please—as long as they are watched.”
But he had the niggling suspicion that the old man was up to something, and he meant to find out what.
Chapter 19
Caitrina held her breath as the last beam was lifted in place. The work on Ascog Castle had progressed well while Jamie was away and she was banned from its halls. In the two days since his return, even greater strides had been made. The roof was not yet weather-tight, but if all went well, it would be soon.
The heavy rainstorms on the mainland had lightened as they crossed the Kyl to Bute, bringing a dense, foggy mist and drizzle, but thankfully not enough to curtail the work.
Mindful of their agreement, Caitrina was careful to stay out of the way as the men worked, unwilling to test the limits of her husband’s temperance. He wasn’t pleased to see her around Ascog, she knew, but as she kept away from the danger by staying mostly in the kitchens and supervising rather than joining in the maidservants’ work, there was little he could object to. Too many decisions required her attention, from what pots and dishes could be salvaged, to what furniture to purchase and what could be made, to where to build the new storage cabinets.
She’d come upstairs to the great hall to speak with Seamus about the rebuilding of the worktables and shelves for the cellars and had lingered to watch the momentous placement of the final beam. When it was secured, a great cheer went up around the hall and she joined in with enthusiasm.
Automatically, she scanned the room for Jamie, her heart catching as it always did when she caught sight of him. With his height and size, it was easy to pick him out among the other men, but it was the relaxed grin and twinkle in his blue gaze that made her pulse leap.
Feeling her eyes upon him, he turned, and their gazes collided. A moment of connection and shared accomplishment passed between them. She grinned back at him, feeling lighter, savoring the moment—until one of his guardsmen asked him a question and his attention was drawn away.
She sighed, regretting the loss. For an instant, it had felt as it had in those precious few days before he left. Though it was nothing that she could put her finger on, something had changed since he’d returned from Dunoon. On the surface, everything was as it had been before: At night he held her in his arms and made love to her with all the passion she remembered, and during the day he was more solicitous and attentive than she could recall.
But he was watching her.
Did he suspect something? Had she done something to alert him?
Perhaps she only imagined it. She bit her lip, the twinge in her chest belying that claim. Maybe it was her own guilt speaking?
Keeping something as important as her brothers’ survival from her husband was tearing her apart. Caitrina wanted to share her joy; instead, it felt as though she were lying to him. I am lying to him.
To make matters worse, since Jamie’s return she hadn’t dared venture to the caves to see Niall and Brian—it was too risky. The reports from Mor were not enough. She missed them desperately and worried for their safety.
Jamie had been charged with clearing the area of outlaws—what would happen if he found them or discovered she’d kept them a secret from him?
Unable to find Seamus, she was just about to return to the kitchens when she caught sight of Mor trying to get her attention from across the room. She could tell from the anxious look on her face that something was wrong.
Dread sank over her. Her first thought went to Brian. No, it couldn’t be him; he’d been getting better.
Caitrina hurried as quickly as she could toward Mor, doing her best not to give any indication of the turmoil burgeoning inside her. She didn’t want to give Jamie any cause for concern.
She took her old nursemaid’s cold hand in hers. “What is it?”
Mor’s eyes flickered around furtively and she said in a low voice, “Not here.”
Caitrina’s chest tightened and her heart pounded even harder, having her fears confirmed: Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Knowing Jamie’s eyes might well be on her, she forced a smile to her face and led Mor out of the great hall, down the stairs to the cellars. With too many people in the kitchen, they passed through the corridor into the buttery. It was cool and bone-penetratingly damp in the cellars. Caitrina pulled her arisaidh around her a little tighter, whether to ward off the cold or chill of premonition she didn’t know.
She tensed, preparing for the blow. “Is it Brian? Did something happen to Brian?”
Mor shook her head. “No, my poor wee lam
b, I didn’t mean to frighten you. Your brother is as well as can be expected.” Caitrina didn’t miss the censure in her voice. Like her, Mor thought that Brian should be removed to Rothesay. Relief poured from every fiber of her body—until she heard her next words.
“It’s your fool stubborn brother Niall who’s going to get himself killed.”
“Niall? I don’t understand.”
“I told him not to go.”
Fear splayed like icy fingers across the back of her neck. “Go?” She clutched Mor’s arm, alarm slicing through her. “Where did Niall go?”
Mor’s face sagged. The fine lines around her eyes seemed deeper, etched with trouble. “I don’t know. He left with Seamus and the others, and you can be sure they are up to no good.” She paused. “There was a strange man there when I arrived this morning. And the look on his face …” She shivered. “ ’Twas feral and filled with such hatred as I’ve ever seen.”
“This man … did they mention his name?”
Mor shook her head. “But I’ve no doubt he was a hunted man. If I had to guess, I’d say a MacGregor.”
No. Niall wouldn’t be so foolhardy …
Yes, she realized, he would. It was easy to see why he would identify with the MacGregors—he’d seen his home destroyed, his father and brother killed, and he’d become an outlaw.
Niall had changed. The teasing rogue still lingered on the surface, but there was a layer of cold steel in him that hadn’t been there before. She sensed the bitterness and hatred lurking perilously close to the surface. But there was something else. She’d caught him more than once with a strange look on his face—as if he were a hundred miles away—almost as if he were yearning for something … or someone.
Oh, Niall! What have you done? “You said Seamus and the other guardsmen left as well?”
Mor nodded. “Aye, and the laird is sure to notice their absence.”
She was right. Jamie would be searching for them now. All of a sudden Caitrina realized something else. “But what about Brian? Who will watch over Brian?”
The Campbell Trilogy Page 26