“She’d seen him around the village.”
“The brothers made no attempt to hide their identities while they were here,” Ford added.
“True enough.” Jason frowned. “They registered at the inn. They talked to people; I was able to get descriptions for the broadsides and the sketch from Martinson.” The blacksmith was known for his clever characterizations.
Ford paced the carpeted floor. “It seems clear the Gothards didn’t come here intending to do this.”
Kendra nodded. “Clarice told me that when all was said and done, they were each furious with the other. And frightened at the consequences. That’s why they ran before committing the…”
“Rape,” Jason ground out. “You can say it, Kendra. Thank heavens at least Clarice was spared that.” She’d been badly hurt, though, and frightened out of her wits. His hands clamped down on the counterpane. No woman under his protection would ever suffer the like again—not while Jason had breath in his body. “But why? Why did they do it?”
Kendra’s gaze dropped to her folded hands. “Clarice said he told her…”
“If he couldn’t have your castle, instead he’d have your girl,” Ford finished for her.
“My girl?” Jason’s head felt blank, until suddenly it dawned on him. “My mistress?” he said incredulously, his face heating although the room had cooled. “He thought Clarice was my mistress?”
“She’s pretty enough.” Ford shrugged. “He saw you hugging Mary and handing her to Clarice. He believed she was your daughter.”
“My daughter?” Gothard had thought him a father? How ludicrous—he was only twenty-three! He shook his head, then immediately regretted the motion. “How…what happened…with Mary?”
“She wouldn’t stay quiet. Geoffrey threw her against the wall to shut her up.” Kendra drew a shuddering breath. “Forever, it seems. The doctor says only a miracle will bring her back.”
Jason grasped her hand. “Then we must pray for a miracle.”
But when he closed his eyes, all he could see was a vision of the sweet little girl he’d come to know, limp and motionless, slowly slipping into death.
And somehow, he was responsible.
FIVE
Leslie, Scotland
“MARRIED? I’m not getting married!”
The last strains of the funeral bagpipes were still echoing in Caithren Leslie’s ears when she found herself facing the family lawyer across her father’s desk.
As though it weren’t enough she had to bury Da today, now this. She rubbed her eyes, still itchy from this morning’s tears. “Have I misheard you?”
Lachlan MacLeod sighed and ran a hand through his grizzled hair. “There’s nothing wrong with your hearing, Miss Leslie. All of Leslie is Adam’s…that is, unless you see fit to wed within the next year. Then the larger portion that came through your mother will revert to you and your husband. In which case you’ll provide for your brother, of course. The minor lands entailed with the baronetcy aren’t sufficient to support a man.”
“At least not in the style to which Adam is accustomed,” Cait’s cousin Cameron put in dryly.
“Heaven forbid my brother should put Leslie before pursuing his own pleasure,” Cait said, pensively twirling one of her dark-blond plaits. “It’s been five years since he’s been home for more than a visit.” She closed her eyes momentarily. “Crivvens, this cannot be.”
“It can be, Miss Leslie, I assure you.” MacLeod’s arthritic hands stacked the papers on the desk. “While it’s rare for a daughter to hold title, it isn’t unprecedented. Your father’s wishes will stand against a challenge.”
“Nay, that wasn’t what I meant.” Caithren stared at her father’s desktop. It had always been littered with papers, reflecting the goings-ons at busy Leslie. Now it was neat. Too neat. Her heart ached at the sight. “Da told me that if Adam didn’t mend his ways, one day Leslie would be mine. That part isn’t surprising.” She looked toward Cameron for strength, feeling a bit better when their hazel eyes met. He’d always been there to lean on. “It’s the marriage requirement that makes no sense.”
Cam perched his tall form on the arm of her chair, slipping his own arm around her shoulders. He looked toward the lawyer. “Might you read that wee portion of the will again? I don’t think Cait quite heard it.”
MacLeod shuffled pages, then cleared his throat. “’I am sorely sorry for this requirement, dear daughter, but it is my hope that you will grow to understand my position. As you’re sixteen now—’” The lawyer broke off and tugged at one pendulous earlobe. “He wrote this last year, you understand, before he—”
“Aye, while I was naught but a bairn.” Caithren crossed her arms and legs. Beneath her unadorned black skirts, the leg on top swung restlessly back and forth as she talked. “Now, having attained the advanced age of seventeen, I imagine I’m a confirmed spinster—”
“’As you’re sixteen now,’” MacLeod rushed to continue, “’it’s time you looked to securing your future. In addition, I promised dear Maisie on her deathbed that I would see you safely wed. Since you’re hearing these words, it’s apparent I failed to live long enough to do so. Caithren, my love, you cannot but admit to a certain streak of stubbornness and independence, and bearing such, have left me no other avenue to make certain your dear mother’s wishes are granted. I know you’ll do right by your mother, myself, and your own life, rather than see Leslie fall into your brother’s incompetent hands. Please forgive me my duplicity and know it’s for your own good.’”
Silence enveloped the small study, the pitter-patter of the rain unnaturally loud against the window. Caithren stared up at the timber-beamed ceiling.
Cameron’s hand squeezed her shoulder. “It’s sorry I am for you, sweet. This is a hard day for you, I know.”
“Da suffered. It’s a blessing he’s passed on. Didn’t everyone tell me that today?”
But despite having decided she was done crying, her throat seemed to close painfully, and her eyes grew hot as well as itchy.
She blinked hard.
