by Stobie Piel
"You're saying no matter how I fail my nephew, he'll turn out all right."
"That's not exactly what I was thinking, but, yes. You can't make a bad person. You can hurt a person, you can shatter their confidence until they act only out of fear. But you can't make them bad. What's real in their core will surface, one day. When what they want, value, is equal to, and stronger than, what they fear."
Nathan stared down at her. A slow smile grew on his face. "Those words apply to my own life, far more than I realized."
Miren smiled, too. "I know."
The duke approached Nathan, shaking his head. "Well, my friend, we made a pudding of the whole matter, didn't we?" He paused to whistle. "Young Brent, he's got a way with thepipes. Never heard a thing so fair in all my days! Misjudged him, I'm afraid."
"Yet everything I learned pointed to Brent as my brother's killer."
Miren's eyes widened, but Nathan patted her hand. "I explained my situation to the duke."
"Oh."
The duke grinned from ear to ear, pleased at the confidence. He leaned toward Miren, speaking conspiratorially. "Always wanted to meet an Indian."
Miren sighed. "Me, too."
The duke straightened and his smile faded. "Your troubles aren't over, Laird. If Brent Edgington isn't responsible, someone else is. And he's still walking free."
Nathan drew a long, tight breath. "I know."
The duke's brow furrowed and he gestured toward the end of the field. "It's the Oban guard. What are they doing here?"
Nathan turned. A regiment of armed soldiers crossed the runners' track, disrupting the competitors from their race. The duke frowned. "Those are Major MacDuff's soldiers. He handled a brigade in Indiadreadful man . . . Rumors abound, but he's in control of this area . . ."
"Did you request his support?"
"Of course not! My guards were enough to subdue Brent Edgington. He's here on his own. I shall inquire . . ."
The spectators murmured and jostled forward to view the oncoming regiment. A dark red coach pulled up behind the queen's tent, waiting. A coachman stood by the door, but he didn't wear livery. He looked more like a hired brute than a footman.
Simon positioned himself beside Nathan. "What's going on?"
"I have no idea."
The regiment major ordered his troops into a turn. A tall blond man walked behind the major. He came around the major and smiled.
"Saints defend us . . ." Simon's voice broke on a sharp hiss, but Nathan didn't recognize the man. He was older than Brent, probably in his late forties. Miren stepped forward, her eyes wide in shock.
Nathan took her arm. "Miren, what is it?"
She was shaking. "Nathan . . . That man, he's Dr. Patterson!"
"It can't be."
Simon seized Nathan's shoulder. "It is, lad. That's him as killed your brother and the laird."
Not Brent, but Drew Patterson himself. Nathan's heart beat with cold fury. He edged Miren behind him, then strode toward the regiment. Every soldier aimed his weapon . . . at Nathan. Patterson stepped forward, fearless. "That's far enough, 'Laird' MacCallum."
Simon groaned. Nathan heard Miren's small voice behind him. "Oh, no!"
The duke stomped to the regiment major. "What is the meaning of this?"
The major raised his chin, looking smug and important. "Forgive the intrusion, Your Grace. We're here under higher authority than your own, with orders to take this man into custody." He gestured at Nathan.
The duke frowned. "For what?" He didn't wait for an answer. "If it's for impersonating a nobleman, that matter is known to me, and for an established cause which I deemed honorable"
"Got him for a lot worse than that, Your Grace." The major turned to Nathan. "He's wanted for murder in the United States of America." He paused for effect. ''For the murder of Laird Kenneth MacCallum and his own brother, David MacCallum."
"What?" Simon's voice boomed over the crowd. "That's the devil as did the deed!" He pointed at Patterson. "I was there myself . . ."
Patterson shook his head in mock disapproval. "Simon, noone can doubt your complicity in these horrible crimes."
Patterson looked supremely confident. His tactic was well conceived. His gaze fixed on Miren and his smile broadened.
Glenna pushed her way through the crowd. "Ridiculous!" She released Nat's hand as she aimed for the doctor. Nat clung to Miren's skirt, his small face white.
Nathan fought for reason. Time was short. Patterson had attacked Miren. Why? It made sense if Brent was trying to keep her from marrying Nathan, but what could Patterson want? Why would he risk capture himself by returning to Scotland?
Miren shook her fist at Patterson, as if words came hard through her anger. "Nathan didn't kill his brother. He was at sea! Ask his crew."
Patterson's gaze moved slowly over Miren, mocking. "My dear little Miren. What a welcome is this? You, my sweet betrothed, are defending another man?"
"I am not your betrothed!"
Patterson's gaze whisked to Nathan, then back to Miren. A studied gesture. "Aren't you? Consider well before you answer, my dear. It so happens that I have proof of this half-breed's crime. Surely, you don't think the word of his ill-begotten crew is equal to my own?" He paused, contemplating. "Even if it were true, it would take time. Time is something he doesn't have."
The threat came clearer this time. Miren recognized it, too. "What do you want?"
"This Indian's fate is best handled in America. Let it be so. But . . ." He took a step closer. Miren gripped Nathan's arm. "How it grieved me to learn you thought me dead, my angel."
"I am sorry it's not so!"
"You were promised to me, soon to be my lawful wife. When I returned, after securing evidence against this half-breed's crime, I was shocked to find you in his company. How I feared for you! Were I assured of your safety, knowingour betrothal resumed its rightful course . . ."
Miren's mouth dropped. "You want me to marry you? Why?"
"For your protection, my dear."
"That's crazy." Miren uttered a short, humorless laugh. "I won't marry you. It's obvious you killed Laird MacCallum and Nathan's brother."
Patterson's brow rose. "I? Why should I, a physician in good standing, commit such a crime?"
Miren glanced at Nathan. "I don't know, exactly. We thought . . . We thought someone put you up to it."
Patterson laughed. "I am no one's lackey, my dear. No, it is clear that this man has bewitched you. Your father begged me, with his dying words, to care for you. It is my intention to do just that." Patterson moved quickly toward them and grabbed Miren's arm. The crowd murmured in alarm, but Nathan shoved him aside.
"Touch her and you die."
The Englishman's cold, blue eyes shifted to Nathan, glittering with malice. "MacDuff, is it fit to leave an accused murderer to his own devices?" Patterson clucked his tongue in mockery. "The lax nature of the Scottish troops must be addressed at some point in time."
The guards came forward to surround Nathan, their weapons aimed to kill. Two men held him restrained as Patterson pulled Miren away. She kicked and struggled, but he held tight. Molly snarled and attacked.
Nathan stood helpless, his arms wrenched behind his back by the guards as Miren's dog flung herself at Patterson's legs. He kicked, his boot thudded into the small dog's side, but Molly didn't stop.
"Someone get rid of this dog!"
A soldier reached tentatively for Molly, but the duke took her collar. "Quiet, lass."
Patterson gripped Miren tight. He bent low to speak to her. Nathan's blood ran cold when he saw her expression. Hereyes closed tight, her lips moved in a silent prayer. She nodded, and her struggles ceased. He'd threatened her with something so evil that she bowed her head in compliance.
"Forgive me." Her voice shook, small and toneless. The sound pierced Nathan's heart. She looked to him, desperate. She bowed her head again, staring at her feet as she spoke. "Your Grace, it is my error that has caused this . . . misunderstanding. I am promised
to Dr. Patterson. With your permission, I will go with him now."
Patterson smiled in dark shades of victory. "You have heard my fiancée's admission, Your Grace. Major MacDuff will take control of the prisoner from here. But I request Your Grace's presence at the MacCallum estate. Miren and I will say our vows at the old church on the MacCallum estate." He gazed down at Miren like a doting husband. "I've already made the necessary arrangements, my darling."
Patterson had made the arrangements before they left for Oban. Nathan began to make sense of Patterson's devices. He'd planned this marriage since he'd learned that Miren was living at the estate.
Nathan couldn't guess his motives, but that much was clear. He'd followed them to Oban, and possibly realized that Miren was bound for America, or marriage to Nathan. Whatever his reason, Patterson had to work fast. His actions revealed that much.
The duke frowned, his eyes narrow and suspicious. "Why do you require my presence at your wedding?"
"A small matter . . . I require your seal of approval once I am Miren's rightful husband."
The duke hesitated. "I would prefer to sort things out here."
"I'm afraid that's not possible. I require your signature in connection with my wedding."
Nathan jerked to free himself, but a guard wrapped a cord around his neck and yanked him back. He couldn't fight. He had to maintain reason to save Miren. Patterson had corneredher, and time was short. He closed his eyes, he shut out the crowd, his enemy, and his friends. Miren's face lingered, desperate, needing him.
Fear rose in his heartfear that he couldn't protect her. She needed him, and by his pursuit of Brent Edgington, he'd failed her.
Another voice rose inside his mind. It spoke in the Iroquois tongue, but its accent was Scottish. "If a man could fly, he would fly. If he has no wings, he will ride the swiftest horse. If his horse falters, he will run. And if his legs fail, he will crawl. And yes, my son, he may die before he reaches his goal. . . . But he will die fighting."
Nathan opened his eyes and spat. He curled his lip in the most dangerous snarl he could muster. "Take the girl, Doctor. She means nothing to me. But you won't pin my brother's murder on me. I've got alibis!" Good. He sounded desperate. Selfish. "What's more, you'd have done better to check David MacCallum's will. Because, Doctor, he has an heir."
Miren's mouth dropped. For a fraction of a second, he saw her doubt. He would betray Nat to save himself. Beside him, bound also, Simon caught his breath. "No . . ." He heard not anger but shock in the Scotsman's voice. For all Simon's accusations, he couldn't believe Nathan capable of a selfish act.
A tiny smile appeared on Miren's lips as her doubt disappeared. "You think of yourself always. I should have known!" She sounded petulant, and she turned her head girlishly away, refusing to look at him. The woman was practical. Smart. She couldn't know his plan, or if he had a plan. But she trusted him with her life.
Nathan's heart filled with love, but he kept his expression straight. He struggled against the guards, then spat again. Lady MacCallum stepped forward, a keen light of victory in her eyes. "Kenneth, my dear late husband, had no other heir besides his son. You are an impostor, revealed thanks to the thoughtful work of Dr. Patterson."
"I am David's heir! He left a will, and I have it." Nathan paused. "Somewhere."
Patterson's eyes shifted to Irene, then fixed on Nathan. His dark smile returned. "More than enough reason for murder. You've always been an opportunist."
Patterson turned to the duke. "When Laird MacCallum and his son were murdered, I barely escaped the blaze alive. Simon had disappeared, this Indian with him. I guessed at once they were responsible for the heinous crime. I checked on David's Indian half-brother and learned much not fit to share in public."
The duke frowned. "Good. Spare us the details."
Major MacDuff stepped forward. "This impostor has nigh on to confessed. I'll take matters from here."
The duke started to argue, cast a forlorn look Nathan's way, and nodded. "I see no other way. I will follow you to Inveraray, Doctor. It is within your legal rights. As long as the girl agrees, I am bound."
Miren hesitated. Nathan met her eyes and saw her terror. Patterson had threatened her, probably with Nathan's own life. Yet there was something else. Patterson thought he had the upper hand. For the moment, it was true. Let him act on that. A man sure of success is sooner to fall. Nathan had learned that from his certainty over capturing Brent.
He wouldn't make that mistake again.
Patterson bowed to the duke. "I will see you at the estate, Your Grace." He cast a quick, almost patronizing glance at Irene MacCallum. "And you, Your Ladyship, I trust you will also join us?"
"That is my intention, of course."
Nathan watched Irene's expression closely. She held herself very stiff, as if something had happened she didn't expect and she wasn't sure how to react. Yet if Patterson and Irene were allies, why abduct Miren? Clearly, Irene hadn't expected this turn of events, either.
Nathan held Miren's desperate gaze. He didn't need to offerreassurance, because he saw her trust. She knew he would find a way to save her. What she didn't know, because he hadn't told her, was that he wanted her, always. That he belonged to her, because he loved her. That he wanted their lives spent together, with children, with collies who preferred luxury to work. With sheep in the pasture, and probably on the front lawn, too.
He could lose her, and she would never know.
Patterson took her arm, and Miren didn't fight. She went with him toward the dark coach, and his grisly footman held open the door.
Molly charged after them, growling and snapping. She bit Patterson, and he shouted in pain. "Get rid of this dog!"
The footman pulled a revolver, and Miren screamed. "Molly, no!"
Molly charged the footman and latched onto his ankle. He kicked, hard, and the little dog collapsed. Nathan's heart quailed at Miren's sob. "No!"
A muted, plaintive cry came from Nat, and he darted from the crowd after Miren. Nathan yanked against his restraints. "Nat, stop . . ."
The footman tried to push the boy away, but Nat squirmed around his legs and evaded his grasp. He darted up the coach steps after Miren. The footman started after him, brandishing his driving whip. The whip cracked, Nat screamed, and Nathan's blood ran cold.
Nathan turned to Glenna. "Stop him!"
Glenna ran after the footman. She grabbed him by his thin hair, but he shoved her aside. Patterson turned, still calm, toward the crowd. "Contain this deranged woman, MacDuff."
A soldier seized Glenna and pulled her away from the coach. Nat grabbed Miren's skirt and held fast. An evil smile twitched Patterson's lips. "If the child wants to accompany us . . ."
Miren tried to pry Nat's fingers from her skirt. "No, Nat. You must stay with Glenna."
"She's going to jail!" The boy's high, shaking voice pierced Nathan's heart. he needed someone. He needed the person least able to help him. He needed Nathan.
Patterson shoved Miren inside, and the coach started forward. Nathan relaxed every muscle, then tensed all at oncean old Iroquois trick. He broke free from his guards and ran toward the coach.
"Hold your fire!" The duke's shrill voice rang over the crowd, but a shot rang out. Nathan dodged and kept running.
"By the order of Her Majesty . . ." This voice no one refused. The soldiers stopped shooting as Nathan ran toward the coach.
"You can't go with Miren now, Nat."
Nat buried his face in Miren's skirt, crying. He shook his head and backed farther into the coach. Nathan held out his hand and tried to gentle his voice despite his fear. "Come with me, Nat. I'll take care of you."
Nat peeked out from Miren's skirt, then shook his head again. "You don't want me, Uncle."
The tiny words shot through Nathan's heart like bitter arrows. "I want you, Nat."
Nat looked doubtful. He wanted more, he wanted words he could believe, because Nathan had given so little until now. Nathan fought for calm. He had to be
honest. A child would accept nothing less.
"I was afraid of you. Afraid I wouldn't be able to help you when you needed me, because I couldn't help your father. I was more afraid of you than the hairy fiend. But I love you, Nat. Please come to me."
Nat hesitated. "Swear?"
"I swear." Nathan ignored Patterson's revolver. He sank to his knee, holding out his arms. "Please, come to me."
"What about Miren?"
"I'll be all right, Nat. I'm going for a ride." Miren's lighttone amazed Nathan. She was practical, still. Brave, because it was necessary. "Go to your uncle. He'll take care of you."
Nat shrugged, then nodded. He jumped from the coach and ran to Nathan's arms. Nathan held him tight, then kissed his small forehead. Nat drew back and looked into Nathan's eyes, and for an instant Nathan saw his own brother looking back.
"I love you, too, Uncle."
Miren looked back over her shoulder. Her hair fell around her face, tears stained her cheeks. Not of fear, but of love. Nathan met her eyes and a tiny smile grew on her face. She mouthed words. Words he couldn't hear, but felt. I love you, Indian.
Molly limped to Nathan's side, whining. She spotted Miren, and growled as she aimed again for the coach.
"Molly, no. Stay!"
Patterson yanked her back into the coach and slammed the door. The coachman lashed at the horses, and the coach lurched forward. Nathan started to rise, to follow her on foot, to save her no matter what stood in his way.
The muzzle of a musket jabbed his temple, and soldiers surrounded him. "Boy, you aren't going anywhere."
Chapter Eighteen
I have learned something I didn't know. When a human companion is gone, out of sight, the connection between dog and human remains. I have never been apart from my Miren before. But I will find my way back to her. At all costs.
"What do you want with me?" Miren sat close to the coach wall, her hands bound at the wrists lest she attempt escape. Dr. Patterson gazed out the window as the coach wound north from Oban. He shifted his gaze to her, and her skin crawled.
