Lord Keeper (27 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Iain glanced up when Thomas entered the library.

“You asked to see me,” Thomas said.

Iain nodded, and Thomas threw himself into the high backed wing chair that sat opposite the desk.

“What have you there?” Thomas nodded to the parchment Iain held in front of him.

“See for yourself.” He handed it to his cousin.

Thomas showed no emotion when his eyes fell on the letter written in his own hand. He laid it on the desk.

“I wondered how Hockley discovered she was here.” Iain studied him. “Do you deny the letter was written by you?”

“Nay.”

Iain picked up the letter that was addressed to England’s King Henry and read it aloud.

Be it known, sire, that, though word may have reached you to the contrary, the Countess of Landsbury of her own accord, sought out the safety of one Iain MacPherson, chief protector of the MacPherson clan.

Rest easy knowing she is in the best of health and enjoys every luxury available within the MacPherson home.

Your Most Obedient Servant,

A Friend

“This goes too far, even for you,” Iain said.

“Aye,” Thomas agreed.

“I am in no mood for games,” Iain shot back.

“Forgive me,
mon ami
. I understand how you feel, and I agree. I wrote the letter, but I did not send it.”

Iain frowned. “But the letter.”

“Until you found it, it remained where I left it,” he said, regret in his voice.

“You regret not having sent it?”

“I regret having left it there. While writing it, I…well, you know how I love French brandy. When I awoke the next morning, I thought I had done away with the evidence. Where did you find it?”

“Behind the sideboard.”

Thomas shrugged. “As I said, you know how I love French brandy.”

“If you did not send it, then who contacted Hockley?”

“There was only the one copy.”

“A mystery.”

“Indeed.” Thomas’s lips drew together thoughtfully.

“It was not, by chance, your cohort?”

A flash of surprise crossed Thomas’s face. “
Cohort
? Jesu, Iain, are you sure you are not gifted with
second sight
?”

Iain leaned back in his chair. “There were things our good priest said. To be honest, it was your part in the matter that remained unknown to me. Had you not left this letter, I might never have known.” He paused. “I assume you will not consider giving up the brandy?”

Thomas shrugged.

“Aye, then,” Iain said. “You may as well pour us both one.”

* * *

“Nay,” Victoria whispered with a stern shake of her head as Liam opened the door to her chambers. She stepped inside the antechamber, waited until he entered, then closed the door behind him. “I will not keep it from him. God help me if he ever found out. I have already kept silent too long. Either you tell him, Liam Fraser, or I will do it for you.”

“Now, lassie—”

“Do not think to soothe me with your sweet talk,
Father
. And you had best make short work of the matter, or you will be explaining to my husband why I call you that in public.” She ignored the flush that rose in his cheeks.

“You would not do that,” he said in a near whisper.

Victoria crossed her hands beneath her breasts. “I would, and very soon.”

He turned even paler.

“Liam, if you had not been there the day I made the discovery, I would have confessed all to him.” She smiled gently. “You cannot expect me to keep the knowledge from him?”

“Do you realize this could shake not only the foundation of the Fraser and MacPherson clans, but Clan Chatten as well?”

“I understand ’tis powerful.” She crossed to the chaise lounge near the window and sat down. “There is no denying that.”

“Aye. And that being the case—”

“Liam,” she cut in, “do you think we have the right to keep it from him?”

Liam strode to where she sat and sank down beside her. He sighed. “I suppose you are right.”

“It is not so bad as all that, is it?”

“The lad will be pleased to hear the news. We have been enemies a long time.”

“Nay,” Victoria said. “You and Eric were enemies.”

“Aw, lassie,” he said, “’tis the same thing.”

* * *

Victoria watched the two men from the solitude of the couch. Liam sat motionless in the chair opposite Iain’s desk. Iain hadn’t moved, other than to turn the pages of the journal. At his muttered, “Christ,” she knew he understood the full meaning of the document.

A muscle in his jaw jumped and he looked up.

“I am sorry, Iain,” Liam said.

“Why?” Iain asked. “Because the man I thought was my father was not, or because the one who is my father I have been fighting my entire life?” He shook his head. “I cannot regret the first. Eric was never a father to me.”

“And the latter?”

Iain laughed harshly. “Seems fate has found her revenge.”

“We have all paid,” Liam said.

“Including Eric,” Victoria said, drawing the attention of both men. “He threw away the most precious thing of all.”

Iain smiled grimly. “He did, but I will not. My life is yours. They belong to you, every one.” He extended a hand.

“They?” She rose and came to him.

He took her hand in his.

“Aye, love. All my tomorrows.”

~ End ~

~ About the Author ~

Award winning author Tarah Scott grew up in the dusty part of Texas. She now lives in Westchester County, New York, where dust still thrives under her bed in the form of dust bunnies, and as cobwebs in her brain. When not working, writing, or reading—who are we kidding? She's always working, writing, or reading. Oh! There is her daughter. They do manage to spend time together.

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