Highland Troth (Highland Talents Book 3) (23 page)

But the guard had a hand on his weapon. “Why do ye want to ken the name of a serving lass?”

“Never mind.” Jamie gathered his wits and proceeded at a sedate pace down the hall in the same direction as the girl. He could feel the guard’s eyes boring into his back and suspected he debated the relative merits of deserting his post to go chasing after him, or staying at his post on Caitrin’s door.

“Halt!”

The command didn’t surprise him. Jamie stopped and turned to face the guard, hands at his sides, palms out, open, his stance easy, doing everything he could with his body to allay the guard’s suspicions. “Aye? Is there a problem?”

“I asked ye why ye wanted her name.”

Jamie allowed the corner of his mouth to quirk up. “Have ye never been startled by the sudden appearance of a lass of uncommon beauty?”

“Meg? Uncommon beauty?” The guard snorted and relaxed. “Yer eyes are failing ye, I’d say.”

Jamie shrugged. “Perhaps ye have the right of it. Ye have my thanks for keeping me from making a fool of myself.”

“Ye’ll remember that, then. First impressions are no’ always what they seem.”

Jamie nodded. “I will,” he said and turned to go, eager to follow the lass, Meg, but it seemed the guard wasn’t quite done with him yet.

“Now the lass behind this door, there’s an uncommon beauty for ye.”

Jamie’s hackles lifted, ever so slightly. “Is she?”

“Aye, and ’tis my job to keep the likes of ye out.”

“Aha, well, then, ye are very good at yer job.” Jamie relaxed as it became apparent the guard hadn’t had designs on Caitrin, but on warning him off. “I’ll just be on my way.”

This time, he managed to get down the hall and around the corner before the guard decided to continue the conversation. Where had she gone? The great hall? The kitchen? Jamie hurried to the next hallway. Where would Caitrin send her? Or was she bound for her own quarters? No telling where those would be, especially since she likely shared a cot with other female servants. He picked up his pace and turned another corner in time to see the lass finish speaking to a male servant and continue on her way. Dared he call out to her? He passed the lad and gained on her, coming close enough to call out “Meg,” without alerting the entire keep.

The lass paused and turned back. “Aye? Can I help ye?”

Jamie took a breath. She was too young to have been involved in what happened to his sister. Better to tread lightly with her. “I saw ye leave Lady Fletcher’s chamber and admired a glimpse of yer haircomb. May I?”

She cocked her head, looking askance, but shrugged. “Aye, why no’?” With a deft move, she pulled it from her hair and handed it over.

There was no doubt. He recognized his own handiwork. The weight and feel of it in his hands brought back memories of carving it, then smoothing and polishing, rubbing it until it gleamed, and his sister’s delight when he gave it to her. It needed some of that care now, but he could never mistake it. He fought to keep his tone light and casual as he turned it over in his hand, even though he could feel moisture gathering in his eyes. “’Tis an unusual piece of work. Where did ye get it?”

“From a friend. She married and dinna use it. Now she keeps her hair covered, so she gave it to me.”

“And yer friend? Who gave it to her?”

“Likely her husband. He had a clever hand with a blade. Older than her, he was. Died in ’13, along with the rest of ’em.”

Damn
. “Does yer friend still live here? What is her name?”

“What business is it of yers? Chasing a widow, are ye?”

“Nay, nay. I simply hope she has more of her husband’s carvings that she might be willing to sell. I admire the work.”

Meg’s eye suddenly gleamed with what he could only interpret as a predatory light.

“I might be willing to sell this one, if ye like.”

Jamie pulled some coin from his pouch. “Would this do?” he asked, selecting a few of the smaller ones. He’d pay the earth for the comb, but it wouldn’t do to be too eager.

“Those, aye, and perhaps a few of the others as well…? I snuck some meat and cheese from the kitchen onto the tray of bread and water I just delivered. And some for Nan.”

The hell with it.
“Take them all, Meg. I…This will be a gift for a lass I fancy. She’s worth any price.”

“Lucky lass!” Her excitement over her windfall lit her face in a broad smile.

“But ye mustna mention this to anyone. I wouldna want my friend to hear of it and guess the gift.” Or for MacGregor to hear of it and ken the significance.

“But how will I explain these?” she asked with a worried frown as she held out her palm, coins covering it. “Someone will think I stole them.”

“Nay. Tell them I paid ye for yer care of Lady Fletcher, since she spoke well of yer service, but she canna do for ye in her present circumstance. Will that do?”

She looked uncertain. “Dinna tell them about the extra food. I dinna wish to be in trouble with the laird.”

“I willna, but I’ll mention yer kindness to a few of the guards, too.”

Meg’s frown smoothed out. “Aye.”

“And yer friend’s name? The one whose husband gave this to her?”

“Annie, she is. Ye’ll find her at her loom, most likely.”

“Thank ye, Meg. I’ll do that. And thank ye for this.” Jamie turned the comb over in his hand then tucked it in his shirt.

With a nod, Meg went on her way. As soon as she passed out of sight and he stood alone in the hall, Jamie collapsed against the wall and rested the back his head against the cool stone. He laid his hand over the comb under his shirt, holding it over his heart as tears slid silently down his cheeks. He hadn’t cried in years, but the shock of seeing the gift he’d made his sister after so many years, and in this godforsaken place, unmanned him. He stumbled down the stairs and made it to his door without seeing anyone—or anyone seeing him in this state. Inside his chamber, he let the tears come, and the sobs, dry, silent screams that came from the grief-stricken lad buried deep inside him. He turned the comb over in his hands, running his fingers along every tooth, every curve he’d painstakingly carved into the bridge. Ach, Netta, sister. Who did this to ye?
They’re here
. Or they were, before Flodden.

****

Jamie had resolved to get some rest, and try again during the night to find an opportunity to speak to Caitrin when the guard slept, or left his post, thinking no one would be the wiser. But when he awoke hours later, he found he’d allowed his reaction to Meg’s tale to exhaust him. He’d slept far longer than he’d intended.

He needed to know what Caitrin had discovered, if anything, and what had happened to her once MacGregor discovered her.

And how much MacGregor knew.

While he’d succeeded in avoiding his old classmate all day, he could not miss the evening meal without causing comment. The hall seemed subdued as everyone became aware of Caitrin’s absence. MacGregor, much to Jamie’s relief, left her empty chair between them, avoided conversation, ate quickly and left. Everyone in the room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

Including Jamie.

He needed to see Caitrin, to determine if she’d been harmed again in any way. The MacGregor would pay handsomely if he’d touched her again. Jamie didn’t think his easy-going reputation would survive a public confrontation with MacGregor, but given that the man had physically harmed Caitrin, and then locked her in her chamber under guard, Jamie would be pleased to take advantage of any opportunity to cut him down.

He simply could not do it in cold blood.

Kyle entered the hall and shook his head when Jamie met his gaze, then retreated the way he’d arrived. So the guard remained outside Caitrin’s door, but apparently the MacGregor had gone elsewhere and not to her chamber when he left the hall.

Jamie met Kyle in a side hall. “We’ve been doing the random passes, as ye instructed,” Kyle reported. “The guard changes, but there’s always someone there. MacGregor has no’ approached her, nor had he ordered her brought before him during the day.”

“That’s been my observation as well,” Jamie answered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “We’ll continue to keep watch. I want to be informed the moment MacGregor enters her chamber, if he does, or sends for her. I dinna trust him around her.” Had he spent the day trying to determine what she might have learned while in his solar unsupervised? If so, he might send for her at any time.

“He’ll no’ be left alone with her, if we can help it.”

“Has anyone seen Uilleam since we arrived?”

“Now that ye mention it, nay. Did Fletcher send him home, then?”

“I’ll inquire. I’m going to talk to Fletcher now. There’s one more thing ye should hear.”

“Aye?”

Jamie blew out a breath. How to begin? “One of the serving lasses had my sister Netta’s comb in her hair today.”

“What?”

“One I carved for her. I couldna mistake it.”

Kyle crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Did ye speak to her? Where did she get it?”

“From another woman, a widow, whose husband may have given it to her. I’ll talk to her, of course. But this is another reason to get Caitrin out of here. The man who killed my sister may be here. Or he may have died at Flodden.”

“We’ll find ye if we need ye.”

Jamie clapped Kyle on the shoulder. “Good man.”

“Keep a cool head,” Kyle told him with a grimace and left him to his errand.

Fletcher had returned to his chamber from the sickroom a day ago, and since Jamie hadn’t seen him at the evening meal, he expected to find him there. Perhaps he’d been confined by the MacGregor just as his daughter had been.

There were no guards stationed outside Fletcher’s door. Jamie knocked then waited, listening. He heard movement in the room, but none near the door. Jamie tried the latch. It gave way easily and the door swung open.

Fletcher stood, pen poised over a document. Writing? Or signing?

Jamie’s hair lifted at the nape of his neck.

“What do ye think ye’re doing here?” Fletcher frowned. “I didna give ye leave to enter.”

“Is that the betrothal contract?” Jamie demanded, ignoring Fletcher’s question. “Surely ye dinna intend to marry yer daughter to a man who beats her and locks her up.”

Fletcher waved him off with a sigh. “I’ll marry her off to any man I please. ’Tis my right as her father and her laird.”

He seemed subdued, distracted, but Jamie had no patience for him if the paper before him gave Caitrin to MacGregor. “’Tis yer responsibility to see she’s safe and well cared for,” Jamie responded. He kept his voice even though anger tensed every muscle in his body. He reached the desk in two strides, and snatched the paper from under Fletcher’s hand.

Not the contract
.

Jamie could have passed out from the relief that flooded him. The tension eased from his muscles as he scanned the document. “Merely a letter. Who is this?”

“No’ that it’s any of yer business, Lathan, but Rabbie is a cousin who lives nearby. I think he can be trusted, and I’m asking for his assistance, should we need it, to keep Caitrin from MacGregor until all this unpleasantness can be put behind us.”

Finally! So Caitrin’s confinement had accomplished what her bruises had not. “Is that where ye sent Uilleam after we arrived here? Or did ye send him back to Fletcher?”

“He’s on Fletcher business. Ye needna concern yerself with him.”

Jamie nodded. He’d concede that to Fletcher in order to gain what he’d come for.

“I’m pleased to hear ye making contingency plans,” Jamie told him, handing the document back. Jamie’s spirits rose when Fletcher set it aside and gestured him to take a seat.

“Ye seem to think I’m some heartless bastard who’ll sell his daughter to the highest bidder.” Fletcher cocked an eyebrow, as though daring Jamie to refute that.

Jamie inclined his head, conceding that point as well. “Ye have given me cause for concern…a time or two,” he continued as Fletcher started to interrupt. “But I believe ye love yer daughter and want to see her well placed, for her sake as well as Fletcher’s.”

Fletcher cleared his throat. “I imagine ’tis no’ great stretch to think ye Lathans have also been making plans.”

Jamie nodded. “Of course. After ye were injured, it seemed the wisest course was to be ready for anything. Has it occurred to ye that upon Caitrin’s marriage, MacGregor would consider ye a liability?”

Fletcher grimaced and nodded.

Jamie continued, “I thought it prudent to be prepared to get Caitrin away, especially if anything happened to ye. As ye seemed to believe might be the case when ye made her my responsibility.”

“Uilleam is due back tonight. In fact, when ye burst in, I thought ye might be him.” Fletcher paused for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “Will ye ride with him on the morrow to my cousin? That way both of ye will ken how to find an ally, and a safe place to put Caitrin until ye can get her back to Fletcher.”

Jamie hesitated then decided if Fletcher had started planning escape routes, he’d best take advantage. This might be the best opportunity he’d have to lay his cards on the table and have Fletcher agree, or at least not disagree. “If the worst happens, she’ll no’ be safe at Fletcher,” he began. When Fletcher didn’t object, he plunged ahead. “I’ve a mind to take her to the Aerie.”

“Under what conditions?”

“I’ll pay MacGregor the bride price and marry her myself.” Jamie hoped Fletcher would respond better to that sort of offer than to a declaration of love.

“Now just a minute—” He leaned forward.

“She’ll never be safe with him. I think ye are beginning to see that. We care for each other. Marriage into Lathan will strengthen the bond between our clans and help protect ye from MacGregor reprisal.”

“And make ye consort to the laird after I am dead. Is that what ye are really after? Should I be as concerned about yer ambition as MacGregor’s?”

“What? Nay.” Truthfully, the idea had never occurred to Jamie. “I…” Oh, the hell with being circumspect. “I love Caitrin. I wish to marry her, and no’ because she’s yer heir. If that worries ye, name Uilleam, or someone else, to succeed ye. I dinna wish ye dead. I saved yer life. Have ye forgotten that?”