Page 56 of The Runaway Bride and the Highlander
“I’ve told ye I didnae sleep with her,” Maxwell defended once again.
“Well, that doesnae seem tae matter tae yer wife,” Bram snapped, wagging the letter again, “for clearly, she doesnae believe ye. I cannae say I blame her.”
Maxwell was growing tired of Bram’s condescension, and as his annoyance grew, he tersely retaliated. “I need yer help, nae yer judgement.”
“Ye’ll get what ye bloody well deserve!” Bram bit back, clearly not caring a wit about Maxwell’s feelings or state of mind.
Bram had become quite attached to Skylar, and a tender affection had grown for her since she had come to the castle. He was protective over her and had, on several occasions, attempted to get Maxwell to talk to her and try to work through whatever problems they were dealing with.
It did not come as any surprise that he now took Skylar’s side and not his own brother’s. But then again, Skylar had not acted like a complete idiot. If the roles had been reversed and it was she who had had a servant in her room, she would likely have found herself in the dungeons by now. Yet, she was too wonderful a person to do such a thing to him. Loyal to a fault, as well as faithful and loving, she would never hurt him like that. In truth, he did not deserve her.
Bram eventually calmed himself and, taking the letter in his hand, read it one more time.
“All right,” he said, taking a deep breath in and sighing heavily. “Let’s look at this logically. I’m reading what she’s written here, and for a start, I cannae believe half the stuff she’s put down,” he said, flicking a finger at the paper. “She says that she doesnae think she ever loved ye. Well, I can tell ye that’s horse crap!” Bram declared. “She’s been in love with ye since the night the two o’ ye met. She just didnae ken it at the time. Now, I can understand what she’s saying about ye and the maid. She’s angry and justifiably so. But even the way she’s written this letter,” Bram continued, eventually looking up at Maxwell, “it just isnae her. It’s nae the way she thinks or speaks. I’ve never read anything that she’s written, but I just cannae imagine this is the way she would write.”
In his devastation, Maxwell had not really examined that point on any level. He had been far too concerned with her damning words and the fact that, according to her letter, she had left him forever. But at Bram’s statement, Maxwell found that he could not disagree with his brother. She was truly the kindest soul he had ever met. Yes, she was fiery and spirited at times, but this letter was cruel and vindictive. Skylar was nothing of the sort.
“Do ye think someone else wrote it, pretending tae be her?” Maxwell asked.
A knock on the study door interrupted their conversation, and at Maxwell’s bidding, Caelan and Kendrick entered. “I hope ye dinnae mind, my laird, but one o’ the maids said ye were quite out o’ sorts this morning, and I thought perhaps Kendrick might give ye a tonic for yer trouble.”
Maxwell glared at Caelan for a second, and then, as though neither he nor Kendrick had even entered the room, he looked back at Bram for the answer to his question.
“Ye mean someone was in the castle and took her?” Bram offered.
“I dinnae ken. Maybe,” Maxwell replied, although now Bram had spoken it out loud, it did seem quite ridiculous. Surely, he might have noticed someone stealing his wife from the bed beside him.
“If ye are referring tae Lady Macleod, I can confirm that nae one took her,” Kendrick said.
All three men looked over at the old man. “How do ye ken that, Kendrick?” Maxwell pressed.
“Because I bid her farewell when she left last night, my laird.”
“Ye did what?” Maxwell bellowed.
Kendrick did not move a muscle, nor did he flinch at Maxwell’s outburst. The old man had been in the castle for as long as he could remember; in fact, he was certain he was part of the foundations. He had served his father before him and had watched Maxwell grow from a baby to the man he was today. He had witnessed many of his tantrums and outbursts over the years.
“I wasnae aware I was ordered tae stop her, my laird,” the old man said dryly.
“All right, Kendrick,” Bram joined in. “Tell us exactly what happened.”
Kendrick smiled at Bram but turned his attention back to Maxwell. “Ye ken well how proficient I am at keeping secrets, my laird. I am afraid all I can tell ye is that Lady Macleod left late last night carrying a small bag of what I assumed tae be her belongings.”
“Didnae ye nae think it strange, Kendrick, that my wife was leaving the castle alone in the middle o’ the night?”
“I did, my laird. But after a small conversation with her, I was made privy tae her reasons and thus understood her departure.”
“She told ye she didnae love me anymore, is that it?” Maxwell spat.
Kendrick did not say anything in reply to that, and Maxwell could do nothing but huff in frustration.
“We ought tae send a search party out for her, my laird,” Caelan suggested. “Surely, she cannae be far.”
“We will do nae such thing,” Maxwell retorted. “It isnae what she wanted, and thus, it willnae be done.”
Maxwell walked over to Bram and snatched the letter out of his hand. Standing in the middle of the room, he slowly read over the words once more. Bram had been right earlier. The way in which the letter had been written was unlike her. He felt such a fool that he had not picked up on it earlier. Yet there must be something in the letter to give him some sign of what was really going on.
Why had she even written it at all? She could easily have slipped out of the castle unnoticed, and no one would have been any the wiser. He might not have known she was missing for hours, for he might have assumed she had left his bed and been anywhere in the castle that morning. He liked to think he knew her well enough that if there was any sort of hidden message within her words, he would pick it up, but no matter how many times he had read it, he simply could not see anything obvious.
