by Paula Quinn
“So my father was not at Kildun when the Devil escaped,” Robert said softly, as facts he had never been told became clear to him now. “When did Callum MacGregor put the sword to him, then? You did say it was The Devil who killed my father, did you not? Why did he do it if, as you say, my father did not fault him entirely for his actions?”
Duncan slid his gaze to Robert’s. A trace of unease flittered across his features but lasted only an instant before his cool demeanor returned.
“Nephew, if you insist on knowing the shameful truth, then here it is. Your father was a sympathizer. A fool who received a fool’s recompense.”
“Nae,” Robert argued. “It is not foolish to show mercy to others. Amish and John taught me—”
Duncan’s voice dipped low so the others could not hear as he turned to stare at his nephew fully. “Pray they have not made you heir to such weak-minded sentiments. Pray more that your sister does not adhere to the same folly.”
“And if she does?”
“Then she will suffer the same justice as they. It is the law of England.”
For a terrifying instant Robert thought he would be the next to fall to his death when he shot to his feet, enraged, stunned, and quite literally dumbstruck. “By whose hand will she suffer, Uncle?”
Duncan’s tight shrug was his only answer to that particular query. “Let us hope she fights them even now.”
“I tell you if you harm her, I will stand with the MacGregors and see you dead! Christ.” Robert tore his fingers through his hair as another grave truth dawned on him. “My father was a sympathizer. He never spoke unkindly of the MacGregors. He never spoke of them at all.” His frenzied gaze fastened on Duncan. “Tell me truly who put the sword to him.”
Robert would have preferred it if Duncan shouted at him, erupted in indignant fury at what his nephew was suggesting. Instead, all he received was an icy smirk.
“What will it gain you to know of it now, Robert?” Duncan looked up at the heavy pewter clouds overhead. “Rain’s stopped.” He turned to the others, just ahead of them. “Let us continue.”
Robert did not move. He was certain that if he did, it would be to fling his uncle off the side of the cliff. Disbelief and disillusionment nagged at the edge of reason. Surely Amish or John would have told him if Duncan had been the one to cut their laird down. Mayhap they had not known, Robert considered. After all, the fatal wound had been inflicted from behind. Nae, nae, not his father’s own brother. Robert leaned over the high crag, fighting to keep the contents of his belly where they belonged.
Besieged by fury he had never known before, Robert leaped after his uncle and caught him by the shoulder. “Why did you do it?” he demanded, spinning Duncan around to face him. Both men teetered on the pebbly ledge. Duncan gripped Robert’s arms to steady himself.
“God slay you!” the earl spat angrily. “I swear I will do it myself if you unbalance me again.”
Robert’s voice rumbled like the distant thunder. “And I swear I will hurl you to the sea if you do not give me a reply.”
Duncan looked over his shoulder and gave the command for the others to continue on. Though he was certain they could not hear, he leaned into Robert’s shoulder and spoke in a quiet voice. “Very well, I will tell you.” When Robert felt the sharp sting of his uncle’s blade pressing against his ribs, he ground his jaw. “With a handful of his men,” his uncle whispered, “your father set out to find the savage who massacred his comrades. He did not intend to bring him to justice, but rather to deliver him to safety. I followed him. It was night when I found him. He and his men were asleep.” Duncan withdrew slightly and tilted his head up to look directly into Robert’s eyes, his own gaze mildly remorseful. “In truth, I hated killing him, but there is no place for regret in war.
“My father believed the Devil killed his son,” Duncan continued, unfazed by the murderous rage in his nephew’s eyes. “I could not tell him the truth, for though he hated sympathizers, he would not have understood.”
“Did Amish and John know?” Robert could barely keep his fury under control.
“Nae, but they were sympathizers, as well.” Duncan sighed when Robert closed his eyes with the realization of what had become of the two men who helped raised him and his sister. “They outlived their purpose, Robert. You had already left Glen Orchy, and Katherine was to come with me. You’ve no idea how I have worried over you both through the years.”
The sincerity in his voice was almost an extraordinary thing to hear. If Robert was not afraid of screaming until the cliffs around him crumbled, he would have opened his mouth to laugh.
“You worried we would become sympathizers,” Robert pointed out tightly.
“Nae, I visited often enough to see that that never happened.”
“It is true, I have hated the MacGregors all my life,” Robert said, hating even more the honor he cherished as a boy, the glory that had lured him away from his true duty of protecting his sister. “Had I not gone to Kildun, my sister would still be safe in Glen Orchy.”
“Soon”—Duncan placed his hand on Robert’s shoulder—“she will be safe once again in Inverary. I vow it.” When Robert said nothing, he turned and continued on his way along the edge.
Robert followed after him in silence, his features defined with steadfast determination to find his sister and mayhap, with the MacGregor’s aid, bring the true devil to justice.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
THE NEXT DAY and three men later, the Earl of Argyll crouched at the summit of a grassy incline and craned his neck to gaze at a castle just as black and impenetrable as the mammoth mountain wall looming over it. He snapped his mouth shut.
“This cannot be the MacGregor holding,” he said a moment later when his wonder switched to denial. “The old drunk must have directed us toward the wrong path and we have stumbled upon a MacLeod castle.”
The fortress ahead had to belong to the MacLeods, Duncan told himself over and over while he gaped. He refused to believe a rebel outlaw had such a magnificent holding. It was smaller than Kildun, but far too grand for a MacGregor. He let his steely gray gaze drift over the dozens of thatched-roof bothys scattered throughout the vale and felt his blood boil.
“They can see in every direction that matters,” Robert said, pointing to the Highlanders patrolling the battlements. He turned to his uncle. “What do you suggest we do now?”
“We wait here until nightfall, then make our way opposite the loch, along those hills where there is more shadow, and slip inside the castle.”
Robert snorted, “You’re mad. We will be shot down before we reach the front doors. And even if we do breach—”
“You will find the MacGregor and kill him while the rest of us search for Katherine. If you ever want to see her alive again, you will do as I say.”
The meager group of men waited atop the crest for night to fall, but darkness never came. Instead, a heavy mist rolled down the mountain wall, chilling their bones.
Duncan insisted they wait until the mist covered the entire vale. It was as good as darkness. Even better.
Robert fully intended to follow his uncle into the castle. He did not, however, intend to kill Callum MacGregor. He prayed Katherine was alive and unharmed. Graham had been truthful with him, and he had been so in defense of his friend. Robert did not believe a man like Graham could be loyal to a heartless beast. He did not believe they had harmed his sister. He would find MacGregor and plead to speak with him. Nae, he decided an instant later, the laird would slay him the moment he discovered Duncan was inside the castle. Robert had to find a way to get inside without Duncan and his burly friends.
They were Menzies, who likely would not give a rat’s arse about Duncan’s crime against his brother. But would they feel differently if the earl was guilty of killing the earl before him?
Robert turned to him and, in a voice loud enough for the others to hear, said, “Colin was your father’s favored son.”
Duncan met his gaze. “Wha
t?”
“You said earlier that your father’s favored son had returned to Kildun, aye?”
Duncan did not flinch, but his eyes sharpened on his nephew. “Aye, Liam favored him.”
“You said your father would forgive him anything, even for being a MacGregor sympathizer. You hated Colin for finding favor in your father’s eyes when you suffered humiliation in them.” He looked over Duncan’s shoulder at the Menzies and was pleased to see them listening intently. “Tell me, uncle, did your father suspect you of treachery when his favored son was killed after MacGregor escaped? Is that why you killed him?”
Without even an off-pitch breath to betray his intention, Duncan reached for a large rock and smashed it into Robert’s temple. When his nephew fell limp to the ground, Duncan pushed back the hair that had fallen over his own brow from the force of his blow, drew his dagger, and turned on the men gaping at him.
Duncan Campbell stepped into the mists with a single purpose, to destroy the Devil and regain what had been taken from him.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
KATE OPENED HER EYES and then closed them again at the glaring beam of sunlight pouring into the chamber from the window. She really would have to have a word with Callum about hanging some draperies—very thick ones. At the thought of him, she smiled and turned over in the bed, intending to help him welcome the new day with a few strategically placed kisses.
She squeaked when she saw Maggie sitting in his spot instead, her legs crisscrossed beneath her and a comb clutched in her fist.
“I thought ye’d never be waking up.”
“Maggie, what are you doing here so early? Where is your brother?”
“He’s around somewhere,” Maggie advised her hastily. There was no time to answer silly queries now. “Are ye intending to sleep all day? My hair and I are waiting for ye.”
Kate could not help the smile Maggie always brought to her lips. “I’m awake.” She hauled herself out of bed and tried to run her fingers through her own hair. She tugged on a few tangled curls. “My hair is waiting for me, as well.”
“Hurry, Kate. He’ll be up and about soon.” Maggie sprang from the bed and pushed Kate toward the stool where she usually prepared Maggie for the day.
“Who?” Kate tried to conceal her knowing smile, but it pulled at the corners of her mouth.
“Who? Why, Jamie, of course. Who else? Honestly, Kate, sometimes I think ye and Callum are more suited to each other than either of ye realize.”
Kate gave her a surprised look and then burst into laughter. “Goodness, poor Jamie hasn’t a chance against you.”
Maggie cast her an askew look, but then her lips curled into a mischievous smile. “At least not after today, I hope.”
“What happens today?” Kate asked her, sobering. “What are you going to do?”
“I am going to tell him what I think of him before we are both too old to care,” Maggie said, thrusting her comb into Kate’s hand. “And I would prefer to look bonny doing it. So, if ye please?”
Kate nodded, taking the comb. How braw this wee woman was. Even Kate had begun to wonder when Jamie would finally begin their courtship. The poor lad was afraid of Callum, but Kate was certain Callum would be as happy as she was about their union.
“I think a lovely blue snood in your hair will bring out the beauty of your eyes,” Kate said gently, offering Maggie the stool to begin.
Kate and Maggie made their way down the stairs, peeking left and right in hopes of spotting Jamie and sauntering past him. It would take him no time at all to follow. Maggie intended on leading him directly to the barn, where she would finally reveal her heart. She was so disappointed when they did not find him, she stomped her foot and muttered an expletive that would have made Brodie proud.
They were about to exit the castle when they walked straight into Callum. “I was just comin’ back to bed,” he said, pulling Kate into his arms. “Where are ye off to?”
“To the barn,” Maggie brooded.
“Give me a moment and I’ll come with ye.”
“Nae!” both women exclaimed at the same time, which earned them a fierce scowl.
“Send Jamie, Callum.” Kate offered him a wink that made his scowl deepen. “Please,” she begged with a slight kiss to his chin. “I will come to you soon,” she whispered along his jaw.
“Verra well,” he conceded, wondering when he had become such a soft pup of a man. “Wait here and I’ll find him.” He planted a kiss squarely on Kate’s mouth and whispered to her before he let her go. “Make haste back to bed.”
He met Angus in his search and inquired as to Jamie’s whereabouts.
“He’s likely off pickin’ daffodils fer yer sister. He’s been avoidin’ me company, and I’m beginnin’ to feel slighted by it.”
“Check the meadow, and if ye find him send him here.” Callum continued on his way up the stairs without turning. “And be quick aboot it, Angus.”
Thin beams of sunshine broke through the loose-paneled barn walls, creating a web of dancing, dust-infused light. Henry squealed with delight when Kate and Maggie entered and plodded toward them on his stubby legs. Matilda honked but was too busy nibbling on a string of corn that had fallen from the rafters to greet them properly.
“Bertrid, stop chasing that little mouse.” Maggie picked up her cat and nuzzled the feline beneath her chin. “Do ye think Jamie will come?”
“Of course he will,” Kate assured her. “But I think we should have remained in the castle. Callum is going to be angry with us.” When Maggie shrugged her concerns away, reminding Kate that the castle was but a stone’s throw away, Kate sighed and reached for a large bag of feed and began filling each animal’s bowl. Ahern pushed her arm with his nose, urging her to feed him first. “As soon as Jamie arrives, I will leave the two of you alone.”
When the barn door opened again a few moments later, Henry squealed and took off running. Matilda spread her wings, her corn string forgotten, and honked wildly, waddling toward the door as if someone had sounded a duck battle call.
Casting Maggie a knowing wink, Kate turned to greet the flaxen-haired warrior. The barn door swung closed slowly, but no one stood at its entrance.
“Jamie?” Kate called out. She strained to see into the shadowy corners. Her gaze darted to Maggie clutching Bertrid tightly to her chest. “The wind, mayhap,” she said and started for the door to close it. She had taken only a few steps past Maggie when the lass screeched her name.
Kate swung around and then staggered backward.
Her uncle stood behind Callum’s sister, stretching her spine straight as one arm looped around her throat and his other hand clutched a dagger pointed at her belly. “Hush, Katherine,” he said softly. His gaze narrowed on her across the filtered light. “You have settled in quite nicely here, I see.”
Terror gripped Kate’s muscles, paralyzing her. She almost retched with the force of stifling a scream. Her skin crawled just looking at him. He was filthy. Dark stains of dried blood crusted his hands and plaid. Dear God, whose blood was it?
“You do not look pleased to see me, niece.” He moved his blade upward toward Maggie’s throat.
Gathering every ounce of control she possessed, Kate inhaled, flaring her nostrils, and tilted her head belligerently. “What took you so long in finding me, Uncle? I was beginning to think you would never arrive.”
That seemed to mollify him, but only for a moment before he snarled at her again. “You look remarkably well, Katherine. Getting along with the savages, are you?”
“Och, come now.” She sighed as if he were too daft to understand. “What would you have me do? I stayed alive, as you did.” Her scornful smile told him she was remembering the fight in her father’s yard with the McColls. “Now, have you come to converse with me, or take me home?”
Maggie shook her head and began to cry. Bertrid slipped from her arms and fled into the shadows. “Do not go away, Kate.” Her plea was so stricken with sorrow, Kate almost ran to her. She
stopped herself, swallowing back her fear and guilt. The sooner she convinced her uncle to take her home, the safer everyone would be. She would worry about returning later.
Duncan yanked Maggie’s neck to quiet her, and Kate took a step forward. “Uncle.” She tried to pull his attention away from her dearest friend.
“Where is the MacGregor?” he suddenly demanded.
Kate shrugged her shoulders and was about to tell him she did not know or care, when the barn door swung open again.
Jamie stood at the entrance, his arms cradling a dense spray of yellow daffodils. His smile faded almost instantly when he saw the Earl of Argyll. He reached for his sword, spilling the flowers around his feet. Before he had time to unsheathe his weapon, Duncan hurled his dagger at him.
Kate cried out, but Maggie only gaped, stricken with horror as her beloved gripped the hilt protruding from his belly and then collapsed to the ground. Duncan moved instantly, kicking the door closed and retrieving his blade from where it was lodged. Without pause, he cut across the barn and gripped Maggie by the hair, yanking her head back.
Kate hurled herself at him, ready to fight him to the death. He swung and sliced open her palm. Blood shot outward, splattering across Maggie’s face. Her blue eyes, already glazed with the haunting images from her past, went vacant and she opened her mouth to begin screaming.
Duncan silenced her with a blow to her head, using the hilt of his dagger. Kate went deathly still when he pointed the tip to Maggie’s neck, his eyes wild with what he meant to do.
“Uncle, nae!” Kate took a step forward, reaching out to him with her bloody hand. “I beg you. I beg you, nae.”
“You plead for the life of a MacGregor?” he accused, craning Maggie’s head farther back.
“Aye, I do. I will do whatever you ask of me.”
Duncan’s eyes shot to the door, then back to her. “Very well. We are leaving. If the guards call out, you will cast your lovely smile on them and convince them you are in no danger. It is clear these people are your friends. Make them believe you, Katherine, or I will cut her throat.”
