Ford rose. "That isn't so." As he paced the Oriental carpet, the butler walked in with a large silver tray. "I talked to him before he left the Bull Inn. He'd known for but two days, Cait, and he failed to tell you because…" He turned, and his blue eyes sought hers. "…not because he didn't care, but because he cared too much. He was afraid you would hate him once you knew."
"Hate him?" She accepted a cup of warm chocolate from the butler, but shook her head at the proffered plate of cakes. "Whyever would I hate him?"
Ford's brow knitted. "For killing your brother."
"That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard." Stunned, she sipped from the cup, grateful for something to do with her hands and mouth. Other than yelling or throttling Jason. "The killing wasn't intentional, and he knew I believed that. We discussed it days ago. Before either of us knew it was…Adam." At her brother's name, her vision blurred, but she took a deep breath.
"He thought that wouldn't matter to you." Ford took a cake, then just held it, as though he wasn't sure what to do with it. "Whether it was intentional or not."
The butler set down the plate and left.
"He was your brother, Cait," Ford said softly.
"It was an accident." She sat a while, open-mouthed, then said, "Now I do hate him."
But the thought that Ford could be right brought a thread of hope.
She held on to it like a lifeline.
"If not for killing your brother, why hate him, then?" Kendra frowned into her cup. "Because he left you at the Bull Inn after telling you?"
"No. Never that." The chocolate wasn't sitting well in Cait's stomach. "I had all of you, and Gothard and Scarborough were both at that wedding. He had to go." Setting her cup on a low table, she drew an embroidered throw off the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. "He had no choice."
"Then why?" Rising, Kendra came close and knelt at Cait's feet. "I want to understand. If not because he left you, why do you hate him?"
"I don't hate him." Tears flooded her eyes. Tears she wouldn't shed for Adam—not in so public a place—flowed freely at the thought of Jason's betrayal. "I love him, and he doesn't trust me to forgive him. That hurts."
Beside her, Cam took her hand. "Do you really love him, Cait? A man you've known for but days? An…Englishman?"
She nodded, afraid what he must think, yet unable to deny it.
But he surprised her. "Then you must forgive him for thinking such of you." His hand squeezed hers. "It goes two ways, aye? Remember what your mam used to say: Gae it oot and get it back."
"Pardon?" Ford said.
Kendra shot him a lowering glance.
"What we give, we have," Cait translated quietly. She took a deep breath. "Forgiveness. And trust. Jason and I…we haven't seen a lot of either between us, but maybe it must come from me first."
Kendra reached for a cake and turned it in her hands. "Make him suffer, Cait. God knows he deserves it." She looked up, and they shared a wan smile. "But then you'll marry him, yes? Because—"
"Nay." Fresh tears leaked out. "I love your brother, but I cannot marry him."
"Why?" Kendra breathed. "I thought—"
Cait shivered, but not from the cold. "Upon marriage my property would become Jason's. The land that goes with the title is worth nothing without the larger portion, the many acres that came through my mother. To me, now that Adam is gone." Swallowing against the sadness, she tightened the wrap around her. "Cameron deserves it, and I love him too much to see him lose it."
With a gasp, Cam pulled his hand from hers. "It was never meant to be mine, Cait! Any of it!"
"Aye, it was and it is." She blinked back the tears. "You were next in line. Eldest son of my father's brother. Sir Cameron Leslie, now that Da and Adam are gone. You knew that, surely?"
"Nay." He looked stunned. "I mean…Good Lord. Of course I knew I was next in line, but I never thought about it. I thought only of you, Cait. Within an hour after hearing the news, I was on my way here to fetch you back home. Knowing you wouldn't find Adam."
"See? You thought of me first. It's always been that way between us, Cam, and it won't be changing now."
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
After telling his story to the authorities, Jason walked the streets for hours, far past the time it was safe to be outside without linkboys to light the way. Midnight had come and gone before he mounted the steps to the town house and threw open the door.
"Jason! Where have you been?" Kendra must have been watching by the window, because she flung herself at him before swiftly pulling back. "You're soaking wet."
He hadn't noticed. "I have something to tell you and Ford. Please fetch him. Now."
"Shouldn't you dry off first?" Her gaze trailed from his face down to the marble floor, where a small puddle was collecting at his feet. "Cait's upstairs—"
"Now."
"All right. I'll go get Ford."
He strode to the drawing room, lit a fire, wrapped himself in the costly embroidered throw that was wadded in a corner of the brocade couch. And waited, pacing the dark red and blue carpet.
"Sit down," he said when the twins came in.
Obediently Kendra perched on one of the chairs, but Ford walked to a small inlaid cabinet. "I could do with a brandy. And you?"
Jason nodded his assent and took the goblet when Ford had poured. He waved him into another chair. "How is Caithren?"
"She's all right," Kendra said carefully. "Disappointed and grieving, of course, but all right. Jason, she—"
"Good." Concern etched his sister's wholesome features, but he couldn't muster the energy to comfort her or listen to this now. Cait was important—the most important thing of all. But his world had turned upside down today, and he had to work that out.
He sipped the brandy, feeling it burn a path to his empty stomach. "Geoffrey Gothard was our brother."
"He was what?" the twins said in unison.
"Our brother." He tugged the throw more tightly around his shoulders. "Our half brother, to be more precise. As well as Scarborough's. Our father impregnated their mother before he wed ours," he said, almost mechanically. He was still having trouble wrapping his mind around that fact. "And he left her, with child, knowing she was with child. Our father."
An uneasy silence reigned over the room. No one moved. Jason could hear the clock ticking on the mantel.
Ford blew out a slow breath. "You said he was our brother."
"He's dead." When Kendra rose as though to come to him, Jason waved her back. "At Emerald MacCallum's hands. But I do believe I was pushed to the point where I might have done it myself."
Ford nodded his understanding. "He threatened the woman you love."
"No. I mean, yes—that would have been enough. But it was more than that." Shivering, Jason moved to put his back to the fire. "All these years—"
He broke off.
The words simply wouldn't come out, wouldn't align themselves in his head.
"All these years," Kendra repeated gently, "you've tried to live up to the legend of our father—the brave, honorable man who gave up his family to fight for his king. To fight in a losing war, to die in a losing war, the ultimate sacrifice."
He drew a deep breath. "That vision of him was wrong."
"Yes, it was. But you weren't ready to see it." Kendra reached for Ford's brandy and took a fortifying sip. "You were left as the head of the family too young. Too tender an age for so many responsibilities. But our father—and our mother—left together due to love for each other and the monarchy, not lack of love for us."
"I've always known that," Jason said, his voice rough to his own ears. He cleared his throat. "Unlike Colin, I never took it as a personal affront. But now we know he left another family, too. And…"
He paused to take a sip of his brandy—a gulp, truth be told—and stared into the goblet.
"Responsibilities. It seems I've always had responsibilities. I resented the senseless deaths that left me with those responsibilities,
and I avoided any violence that might remind me of those deaths." He looked up. "And I hated myself for that."
When Kendra rose and walked over to him, he didn't stop her this time. Her light green eyes burned into his. "Our father hadn't been so brave and honorable, had he? Or responsible. He'd been a man. Human."
It was the same conclusion he'd come to while walking in the rain. And it was time to give himself permission to be human as well. Free of the overwhelming shackles of his father's expectations. Free to live his life with his own set of values. In his own way.
With Caithren—if only she'd have him.
If only she'd forgive him.
At long last, he had internal peace—but he didn't have the woman he loved.
"Cait and we…" His voice cracked. "We all lost brothers today."
"But ours was not worth claiming." Ford stood up. "Go to her, Jason. She's hurting."
Kendra's mouth gaped open at her twin. "When did you get to be so compassionate?"
He shot her a scathing glare, then turned back to their brother. "Go to her. She's in your chamber." His lips turned up in a hint of a smile. "You'd better hope that tall cousin of hers doesn't have it in his mind to protect her."
Jason couldn't smile, not now. And just let Cameron Leslie try to stand in his way.
His heart ached as he climbed the stairs to his chamber. He eased the door open and slipped inside, his knees going weak just at the sight of her lying on his bed. Her cousin sat in a chair alongside, murmuring soft words of comfort.
He swallowed hard. "Caithren."
She rolled over to face him, her eyes brimming with tears.
Cameron rose and walked to the door. "Remember what I told you, Cait, I beg you. Your happiness comes before—"
"Leave us, Cam." Her voice sounded breathless, uneven, doubtless from hours of crying. "Please."
Wordlessly, Cameron slipped through the door, and it clicked shut behind him.
Jason stepped closer. His fingers loosened. The embroidered throw slid from his shoulders to the floor.
"You hate me, don't you?" he whispered.
She sat up. "You're all wet. You should dry off."
He took another hesitant step closer. "Cait—"
"You hurt me," she said.
He'd go to his knees if he thought it would make a difference, but he stood frozen in place. "I'm so sorry. More sorry than I could possibly express. If I'd known earlier it was your brother I'd killed, I'd have told you immediately, I swear. But I loved you by then, Cait—I couldn't bear to bring you the news that would make you so unhappy. That would tear you from my side forever. I wanted that last night with you more than I wanted to live."
Her eyes widened through the tears. But she hugged herself, effectively shutting him out. "You didn't trust me." She swiped miserably at the wetness on her cheeks. "And you still don't trust me. How can you say in one breath that you love me, and in the next that I would be so shallow as to hold an accidental death against you?"
"But—"
"I know Adam's killing wasn't intentional, any more than my own killing of Wat."
A trickle of relief coursed through his blood. Guilt slowly began to fade, replaced by a tremulous hope. "But would you feel the same way if you hadn't killed Wat?" he wondered. "Would you have understood regardless?"
She shook her head, looking thoroughly disgusted. "See, there you go again. I'm devastated you don't think better of me. Do you remember that night in Newark, when you had the bad dream?"
He remembered. A gruesome nightmare and an angel that soothed him. Wearing a ridiculous white night rail. "You said you didn't fault me. You said you understood."
"And just what do you think would ever change that?"
He was afraid to believe, but he could see she harbored no anger, no resentment. It wasn't in her.
"I shall expect more respect from you from here on out, Jason Chase."
He blinked, and his breath caught in hope. "Does that mean—"
"You've left me alone all night, with little to do but think. And I think I will marry you, Lord Cainewood. Never mind that you haven't asked. But only on two conditions."
His heart soared. "Anything."
She climbed from the bed, and he reached to pull her into an embrace. But she wrenched away. "You will hear me out."
"Very well." Though his arms ached to hold her, he crossed them instead. "I'm listening."
"One. You will not underestimate me again."
"You can wager on that." He risked a small, hopeful smile. "And two?"
Blowing out a breath, she locked her gaze on his. "Cameron must have Leslie. The part that came through my mother, I mean. With Adam's death, he's already come into the title and small entailed lands. But those lands alone cannot support a man."
"Cait—"
"Nay. You will hear me out. Cameron hasn't asked for this, and he would likely strangle me if he knew I was asking for him. According to my father's will, the vast majority of Leslie becomes my husband's should I marry. But Cam deserves all of Leslie, Jase—it should have been his in the first place. He was a better son to Da than Adam and then some. So even though Kendra told me you need money, I won't see Cam go without his due—I won't take my happiness at his expense. It wouldn't be fair."
"And Caithren Leslie is always fair," he said softly. "Now, you will hear me out."
She sat on the bed, apparently reserving judgment.
"I was only going to say, back when you interrupted me, that Cameron can have the property—the only part of Leslie I need is you. And I do need you, Cait. More than I ever thought possible."
"Oh." She looked properly chagrined, but a tiny smile tugged at her lips.
"And I have something for you." He reached into his pocket. "Hold out your hand." She did, and he gazed into her eyes as he folded her fingers around a flash of green. "When it changes hands, a change of heart," he quoted solemnly.
"My amulet?" She looked at it, then back at him. "Where—how did you get this?"
"I found it in the square. When I went looking for you. The chain was broken, so I put the amulet on this ribbon until I have time to get it repaired."
She stared down at it for a moment, fingering the narrow black satin ribbon, then slowly held it out to him. "Keep it."
"Pardon?" He didn't reach for it, just gaped at her in disbelief.
"I thought that if I wore it I'd be safe. But it brought me more luck when you had it. Then I found the strength to save myself from the Gothards. All by myself, without the emerald to depend on. And it brought me your offer of love and marriage. At least I think it did—you haven't asked me yet, and I've been waiting nearly two days already."
He dropped to one knee and took her hands in his, the emerald trapped between their fingers. "Will you marry me, Caithren Leslie?"
She pulled her hands away. "Lick your right thumb."
He was speechless for a moment. "Pardon?"
"It's a Scottish custom. Lick it."
"I cannot believe—"
"Lick it." For emphasis, she licked her own.
Shaking his head, he did the same.
She took his hand and pressed their wet thumbs tightly together. "It's a bond. Now ask me again."
He captured her eyes with his. "Caithren Leslie—" His voice broke, and he sucked in a breath. "Will you marry me?"
With a look so intimate it tugged at his heart, she pulled him up and slipped the necklace over his head. When he touched it, almost as reverently as she always had, she smiled.
"Jason Chase, I thought you would never ask."
And her lips gave him his answer.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
"Hurry," Kendra urged. "It's about to begin."
"I think not." Her sister-in-law, Amy, grinned. "They won't be starting the ceremony without the bride."
Caithren turned from the window, where she'd been watching a small cluster of people gather in the bright sun that flooded Cainewood Castle's quadrangle. Blinking in t
he chamber's relative dimness, she walked to Kendra's four-poster bed and slid the gold brocade robe from her shoulders.
"There's no need to rush." Amy held up a sheer chemise. "Dressing for your wedding should be a calm, soothing experience." She shot Kendra a warning glance as she slipped the garment over Cait's head.
"Like yours was?" Kendra returned with a lift of one expressive brow. "I seem to remember you shaking in your—excuse me, my—red-heeled shoes."
Amy's eyes sparkled. "That was different. I was terrified. A shopkeeper's daughter marrying an earl. It seemed wrong." She smiled, tossing one long black ringlet behind her plum velvet-clad shoulder. "But it was right."
Kendra smoothed her mint satin skirts. "Cait has nothing to be nervous about."
"Nay." Caithren rolled her eyes. "Daughters of provincial Scottish baronets wed English marquesses every day of the week." The other women laughed. "But I'm not nervous. This is right, too."
She believed it, with all her heart and soul. Still, it was no small step to be taking. Cait drew a deep breath and pulled her wedding gown off the bed—the first English gown that had been specifically made for her. Fashioned of sky blue silk, it had a silver tissue underskirt and real silver lace edging the scooped neckline. The sleeves were double-puffed with a spill of silver lace at the wrists, the stomacher embroidered with scrolling silver designs.
She held it up. "Marry in blue, love ever true."
"Is that what they say?" Kendra helped her wiggle into it, watching appreciatively as it settled into place. "Oh, it's lovely! If ever I fall in love, I want a dress just like this, but in green."
"Oh, you wouldn't want to wear green." Cait glanced up from tightening the laces. "Green is unlucky. The choice of the fairies."
Amy handed her the stomacher. "You believe in fairies?"
"Well, nay," Cait said, working the tabs. "But it's not worth taking a chance now, is it? Not on your wedding day. Besides," she added, looking to Kendra as she sat to draw on her stockings, "Jason told me you have no wish to wed."
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