Highland Troth (Highland Talents Book 3) (22 page)

“I got here in the dark, so aye. I’ll be quiet as a mouse, I promise.” Caitrin stood and moved to the door, but turned back before she opened it. “Kiss me good night, Jamie. I would have yer scent in my nose and yer taste in my mouth to keep me company the rest of this night.”

Jamie’s heart squeezed in his chest as he took her in his arms. “Would that I could be with ye, but our time will come.” He kissed her softly then more firmly as she pressed against him. “Ach, Caitrin. Ye ken my heart. Will ye be my wife? If we can?
When
we can.”

“I will. ’Tis what I’ve wanted since I first saw ye, all those years ago. But for now, I must leave ye.”

Her insistence did her credit, as much as Jamie appreciated, yet despaired of the impulse that had brought her to him in the middle of the night. She could not be caught here. They both knew it.

As silently as she’d promised, she slipped out the door into the dark hallway.

Jamie waited by the opening, listening for any sound that meant trouble, but the only whisper in the night was his own breathing.

Chapter Fifteen

One of Jamie’s comments kept echoing in Caitrin’s head as she made her way toward her chamber. If only she could prove the MacGregor was negotiating in bad faith. What if she could find proof her da would accept? Proof even Toran would accept. She paused on the stairs, then filled with resolve, made her way to MacGregor’s solar rather than back to her chamber.

The hall outside the solar was empty and dark. Caitrin listened at the door, but heard no movement inside. She slipped in and stood still and silent, in case someone was in the chamber.

Starlight glimmered through the large windows along with the light of a waxing moon, not yet visible on this side of the keep. A banked fire still glowed in the hearth.

The moonlight gave her enough illumination to read some of the papers on MacGregor’s desk. Most seemed to be correspondence or the sort of paperwork typical in the management of a large estate. But near the bottom of the pile, she found the proof she believed Jamie looked for. The proof that her father’s fears were well-founded.

One document contained lists of the resources available to MacGregor’s neighbors—crops, cattle, mining, and so forth, in great detail. At the very bottom of the pile, a large map depicted what must be battle plans, with the disposition of MacGregor’s forces against his neighbors marked in detail, down to the numbers of archers, pikemen and mounted warriors. She wanted to laugh out loud and dance around the room that it existed, but she dared not.

Here was proof MacGregor would never sign the Lathan treaty. He intended to conquer his neighbors and absorb their lands into his holdings, including, she noted with a heavy heart, Fletcher. A minimum of forces were annotated there, probably because he expected to take control of her home through marriage to her. Her da was right to be concerned. But with the Lathans and their allies, he would not need to sacrifice her to save Fletcher.

She couldn’t find any indication of MacGregor’s timetable, but she suspected he’d started gathering information on his neighbors soon after the Scots’ defeat at Flodden, and knew if he planned to take advantage of the chaos and lack of leadership at Court since the death of James IV, he was running out of time.

She glanced toward the window, trying to judge how many hours of darkness were left. Did she have time to take these documents to Jamie and return them here before the keep began stirring? Before MacGregor arose and came here to work? She must try. If she left them behind, he might put them away where she would never find them again, and Jamie would still not have seen the proof he needed.

Or could she copy them? She found some blank pages, pen and ink. She quickly decided if she only copied the most important of the neighbor’s resources rather than trying to recreate the entire document, she’d finish sooner. The map would be much harder to reproduce, but she’d do as much as she could and then secrete her copies in her clothes until she could give them to Jamie.

She bent to work.

She had nearly finished when a slight sound alerted her to her peril. With a start, she glanced toward the window. The sky had begun to lighten toward dawn. A chill swept over her. She dared not be caught with her copies, and she’d lingered too late to be certain of reaching her chamber undiscovered. Where could she hide them?

She blew the last of the ink dry and rolled the pages together, and then she returned MacGregor’s pages to their places in the pile on his desk. It would mean her death if he caught her with this handiwork on her person. Her clothing might disguise the rolls, but any sound they made would give her away. Glancing around she noticed the upper of two small tapestries partially covered the one below it. If the lower one hung from loops, she could slip her rolled pages inside. She lifted the lower corner of the upper tapestry and sighed in relief. The lower tapestry hung from a rod threaded through several loops, with plenty of room for the documents she needed to hide. She slipped them in place and let the upper tapestry fall back over them. Perfect. They would not be easy to recover, but not impossible either, especially if she could return here when the MacGregor and his men were out of the keep, hunting.

Now to return to her chamber. She reached the hallway door just as it swung open and Alasdair MacGregor walked in. She froze, heart in her throat for one long moment as they stared at each other. Standing right in front of him, in his way, she had nowhere to hide, so she tried boldness instead.

“Good morrow, Alasdair. I woke up early and decided to see if I could watch the moon set. Ye must agree, the light is so lovely. And my chamber faces the wrong way.”

MacGregor closed the door, shutting her in the solar with him. Caitrin suddenly recalled the stinging pain of the back of his hand to her face. She took one cautious step away from him.

“Indeed? Why my solar? There are other windows that give out on the same view.”

“There must be, aye,” Caitrin answered, keeping her voice as steady as she could. “But I kent this chamber and these windows. I didna think ye would mind.”

She held herself still as MacGregor’s gaze swept over his desk. Had she left it exactly as she’d found it, or would he know she’d looked at what he kept there—and found his plans?

“But the moon hasna finished setting,” MacGregor pointed out with a nod to the window. “Yet ye appeared to be leaving the solar. Had ye seen enough, then?”

Caitrin swallowed. “The sun is rising. I started getting sleepy so I decided to return to my chamber to prepare for the day. If ye’ll excuse me, I’ll go there now.”

“Nay. Ye’ll remain here. Take a seat.”

“I wish to leave, Alasdair.”

“Ah, now ye will call me Alasdair?” He narrowed his eyes. “What were ye doing in my solar?”

“I just told ye. Now, please, ye canna detain me. I am no’ yer betrothed yet.”

MacGregor gave her a long look, then smiled that cold smile she’d learned to hate. “But lass, I’ve signed the agreement already. Ye may well be my betrothed. Ach, ye didna ken? Yer da hasna kept ye informed? Too bad. Now sit.”

Pulse racing, Caitrin did as she was told, choosing one of the high-backed chairs facing the hearth while MacGregor sent one of his men to summon her father.

“My father? Why?” She twisted around in the chair to regard MacGregor as a sense of foreboding washed over her, leaving her skin pebbled and her heart in her throat.

“Be silent. Or tell me who ye are spying for. Yer da? Lathan? I will go easier on ye if ye tell me the truth before yer da gets here.”

Caitrin flinched and lowered her gaze. She dared not say a word. No matter what kind of trouble she’d gotten herself into, arguing with Alasdair would only make it worse. She bit the inside of her lip. What would he do to her father? She had the proof Jamie needed, but it would do them no good if they were all dead. Should she admit what she’d done to save herself or her da? Nay! MacGregor would hang Jamie and the rest of the Lathans before the sun set. She kept her eyes down and her mouth closed.

“Nay? Very well.”

While they waited for Fletcher to arrive, MacGregor sat at his desk and examined a few documents. Would he notice the missing blank pages? Had she put the ink back where he’d left it? Cold sweat dripped down Caitrin’s ribs by the time someone rapped on the door.

“Come.” The volume of MacGregor’s barked order made Caitrin flinch. Just how angry she’d made him remained to be seen.

Fletcher frowned when he noticed her presence, but addressed MacGregor. “Ye asked to see me. What is so urgent at this early hour?”

“I surprised yer daughter in my solar, leaving as I arrived. What do ye suppose she was doing here?”

“I came to watch the moon set,” Caitrin interjected, hoping to prevent her father from making the situation worse.

“She has always been fascinated by the night sky,” Fletcher confirmed, his frown deepening.

“Indeed. Does skywatching involve rifling my desk?”

“What?” Fletcher glanced her way and Caitrin could only shake her head, hoping he would defend her. “Of course no’. I doubt she went anywhere near yer desk.”

“No’ even to satisfy her feminine curiosity?”

Caitrin realized MacGregor’s mild tone boded ill. For her? For Fletcher? Did her father realize MacGregor made threats like a big cat, watching and waiting for the perfect moment to toy with its prey before sinking in its claws? When Fletcher gave a nervous chuckle and responded, “Ye never can tell with a lass,” Caitrin gave up hope of escaping without some punishment. But she had to try.

“It is as I told ye, Alasdair. I watched the moon until I became sleepy. I was leaving for my chamber when ye arrived.”

“Ye entered the laird’s solar without permission. I canna prove what ye did or didna do while ye were here. But the fact remains ye were here. Were ye spying for yer da? For that, ye should be given to the lash.”

Caitrin couldn’t contain her gasp, but Fletcher’s “Nay” covered up any sound she made.

MacGregor held up a hand. “Out of respect for my future betrothed, I willna rule in that fashion. But ye will be restricted to yer chamber, under guard, for three days. Ye’ll have bread and water and naught else for comfort. If, at the end of that time, I havena found any evidence ye tampered with anything here, I will release ye.”

“But…” Fletcher spluttered. “Ye think to treat my daughter this way and believe I will agree to marry her to ye?”

This is what it took to make her father see reason? Perhaps the punishment MacGregor meted out would be worth it. Her heart lifted. Would this negotiation for her hand end right here?

“Would ye rather she suffer the lash? She can do that now and be on her way back to Fletcher immediately after. Is that what ye wish?”

For a moment, Caitrin considered it. Her freedom might be worth a few lashes. “How many?” slipped out before she could clamp her lips together.

MacGregor’s gaze cut to her, steely and assessing. “Ten.”

She shook her head. She might be able to withstand one, or two, or even three. But not ten.

“Caitrin!” Fletcher’s exclamation warned her to keep her mouth closed. “Ye willna whip her, nor will ye confine her.”

Her father spoke in a tone she’d never heard from him before. His voice conveyed anger, but cold, steely anger, and it made her shiver. Here was the laird in him she so rarely saw, confronting another laird. But she also saw the redness creeping up his neck.

MacGregor merely raised an eyebrow.

Fletcher’s demands carried no weight. She prayed her father didn’t try to push MacGregor too far.

“I had hoped we could arrange an alliance to our benefit, but I see that isna possible.”

“If ye wish to secure the future of yer clan, it is. Caitrin must learn the limits of her responsibility—and authority—as lady of this clan. Consider this an easy lesson.”

Caitrin could see how close to eruption her father had come, one he might not be able to withstand in his condition, and one that would certainly make this situation worse. She had to prevent that. “Very well, I agree to yer terms of confinement.” She stood and moved to the door before Fletcher could object. “Will ye have me escorted, or may I find my own way?”

MacGregor’s smirk irritated her, but she dared not make matters worse. The tension in the chamber set her teeth on edge.

“Malcolm awaits outside. He will escort ye and arrange the guard on yer door. Dinna think to disobey me in this, or ye may yet face the lash.” With a nod clearly meant to dismiss her and her father, MacGregor returned his attention to his desk. Caitrin left the chamber and joined Malcolm in the hall as quickly as she could, tapping her toe until her father followed her out and closed the door behind him.

“What did ye do, lass?”

“Nothing, Da,” she answered, glancing at Malcolm.

No’ yet. And nothing I can tell ye here.

She squared her shoulders and met her father’s concerned gaze with a determined expression. “Now do ye believe me?”

Fletcher’s jaw clenched.

****

After he heard about Caitrin’s misadventure and confinement, Jamie spent the day pacing and coming up with a dozen different courses of action, none of which changed the fact that he had caused Caitrin’s trouble. If he had not wished for proof, she would not have been in Alasdair’s private solar.

She would not have been caught.

He’d passed by her chamber several times. Each time the guard present outside her door watched him with a critical eye. But there was no indication Alasdair had disturbed her, which gave Jamie a small measure of comfort. Then a serving girl, one he hadn’t seen before, came out of her chamber and Jamie’s heart nearly stopped.

He knew the comb she wore in her hair. He had carved it for his sister.

The guard must’ve seen him react to the lass. He shifted his weight, eyeing Jamie, then glancing to the serving girl’s retreating back as she made her way down the hall.

“Who…who is she?” Jamie managed to ask, fighting the urge to run after her and grab her arm, to demand how she came by something that had belonged to his murdered sister.