Page 53 of Love with a Scottish Outlaw
“I’m a traveler granted a night’s hospitality,” he explained. “Duncan McDonald is me name.”
“And I’m Rona. If ye be travelin’, ye must be hungry.” She placed another bannock on his plate. “I’ll be back with mutton and cabbage.”
“Ye have my thanks,” he said, offering a faint smile.
He broke apart the warm bannock and chewed thoughtfully. When Rona returned, he helped himself to a slice of mutton and said, “I never thought to be sittin’ in an earl’s great hall.”
She braced the platter on the table. “Aye, ’tis a fancy title, and though the man himself has his polite, distant ways, he is kind.”
Kind? He schooled himself to hide his doubt.
“Now his wife, she’s a more informal lass.”
“Lass” seemed like a generous way to refer to an older woman. “Then she’s a good mistress.”
“Aye, that she is. Though a McCallum, long a Duff enemy, she’s been part of the new peace between our clans. Surely ye must have noticed that in yer travels.”
Duncan frowned, but before he could ask anything else, the maidservant moved off with her platter of mutton. A new peace? He didn’t know what to think.
But regardless, no one here was worried about Catriona being missing, so all must have assumed she’d be gone at least a fortnight. The old earl hadn’t yet started missing her, hadn’t yet felt the suffering of the parents he’d taken children away from.
All around him, people suddenly rose, and Duncan followed suit. A man and a woman were now filing onto the dais. Both were close to his own age, and he had to wonder if the man was Owen Duff, the future earl. The man nodded to the great hall, offered a rousing, “Sit down and eat!” that was met with cheers.
Rona came by with cabbage this time, and as Duncan spooned some onto his plate, she said, “Now don’t ye see such love shining between them? How could there not be peace?”
Duncan was confused. This was the marriage Rona had first meant, between Duff and McCallum? This woman was their new mistress? Or perhaps she was the lady of the castle because the old earl and countess never put in an appearance.
“So he’s the next earl?” Duncan asked, trying to sound suitably awed.
Rona shot him a surprised smile. “He’s Himself, the Duff chief, these last few months.” Shaking her head, she moved on, saying something under her breath about how ignorant country folk could be.
But Duncan was no longer listening. This man was the new Earl of Aberfoyle. The old earl who’d dominated this part of Scotland and allowed families to be destroyed so he could profit—that man was dead and buried, gone to the devil where he belonged.
But Duncan hadn’t known, because he’d taken a risk to keep his people safe after he’d almost been recaptured. He had tightened their patrols around the encampment, hadn’t risked sending anyone beyond their glen.
Did the new earl know what his father had been a part of? Did he condone the same injustices? Duncan watched the man sit beside his wife, and they smiled into each other’s eyes in a lovesick fashion. As far as Duncan knew, this man didn’t even know his sister was missing, and certainly didn’t need to suffer for it—if he was innocent of his father’s evil deeds. Duncan couldn’t know that, not yet.
But without proof one way or another, Duncan’s revenge felt hollow. And how was he to proceed with Catriona?
Was he supposed to return her to her home?
Everything inside him rebelled at the thought. She didn’t remember this home or these people. She was bringing along Finn, working with the lad and helping him in a way she probably never did as a fine lady going to balls and concerts.
But through Duncan’s own failings, she knew too much about his clan and their activities. Her knowledge could prove dangerous to so many people—and to his family.
But all of that hid the truth he knew was deep inside him—he didn’t want Catriona to leave. Selfishly, he wanted her for himself, and as long as she didn’t remember, he had her.
But could he live with that?
He mused over the thought, staring off to the side into the hearth fire.
“Good evening,” said a voice, right in front of him.
Startled, Duncan saw that Lady Aberfoyle herself stood there, regarding him quizzically from two very different colored eyes, one blue, one green. It gave her an arresting, unusual appearance, making her handsome features even more striking.
“I do not ken that I’ve seen ye here before,” she said pleasantly, but pointedly.
Duncan rose to his feet and bowed. “My lady, I am but a traveler passing through on my way to Glasgow. Duncan McDonald.”
