Page 99 of Love with a Scottish Outlaw
Cat gave her a smile. “It’s a long story.”
“But ye’re safe,” Maggie said. “Relieved I am, especially when that messenger said ye’d been kidnapped. Ye must be hungry. Mrs. Robertson and I have been ready to feed everyone all day.” And then she gaped as Duncan was escorted past her toward the stairs. “I—he’s been here before! Owen, ye remember that traveler last week?”
Owen’s frown grew even darker. “I’d been so concerned when I found Cat, that I hadn’t even realized that’s where I’d seen him before. I just assumed at a Highland assembly or festival. He’s Duncan Carlyle, chief of the Carlyles.” He lowered his voice. “He had Cat all this time, including when he was here spying on us.”
Cat winced, though she appreciated he was keeping the truth just between them. “Aye, he told me he came here.”
“Then I was right!” Maggie exclaimed triumphantly.
“Right about what?” Cat asked.
Maggie leaned close. “I saw ye with him in my dreams, and ye were both so happy.”
Cat gaped. She knew of the rare dreams that Maggie had, the ones that usually came true. She glanced at her brother, who only frowned at his wife.
“Aye, well, we’re hungry,” Owen grumbled.
Maggie was overly cheerful as she saw to the children’s comfort, calling for baths to be prepared while they ate. She would be a mother herself soon, and it showed in the tender way she coaxed traumatized Calum to eat, and the way Adam agreed to sit in her lap and suck his thumb.
At last Mrs. Robertson said the children’s rooms were prepared, and the three women began to lead them away.
Cat looked over her shoulder and called to her brother. “Stay there. We have things to discuss and I won’t be long.”
As she helped with the children, she couldn’t stop thinking of how Maggie had seen Duncan happy in her dreams. Cat had only seen that sweet emotion on his face once, after they’d made love, but even then it had been brief, because nothing had been settled between them. He was not a man who’d ever been allowed to be happy as a child, and had never had cause to be so as an adult.
Duncan hadn’t just been happy in Maggie’s dream—he’d been happy with Cat. They’d been together, and she didn’t see how that could come true.
Duncan was surprised to be left alone in the bedchamber, though he knew a guard was stationed in the hall. They brought him a tray of food—no knife, of course—and left him to his own devices. He found himself standing at the window as the sun set, watching the courtyard activities wind down. He could see the glow of fire diminish in the blacksmith’s shop, saw the last horses put into the stables at dusk. This had been Cat’s home—one of many. In days to come, he would be able to picture her here, happy and cared for. He felt as if he was memorizing how everything looked. It was good to think about anything other than losing Cat.
He’d already lost her.
He could be honest with himself about his relief that she was home, that she’d be safe. When he’d watched her trying to negotiate with the sheriff, he’d stepped out to defend her, though he hadn’t known that Aberfoyle and his men were nearby. He’d only been concerned with keeping Cat safe.
And she was safe. He braced both hands on the window frame and lowered his head to breathe a sigh of relief. Whatever happened next, she and the children would be well. He knew she and her brother would pick up where Duncan had left off, see that there were no more kidnappings.
Someone knocked at the door and entered before he could respond.
The guard said, “Ye’re to come to the great hall and wait to be heard.”
Duncan nodded. He hoped his fate would be decided sooner rather than later. The longer he was here, the more Cat would suffer. And he didn’t want that.
Once again, the two men did not bind him, allowed him to walk on his own down through the castle to a corridor outside the great hall.
“Wait here,” one said.
And then he heard Aberfoyle’s voice. “Cat, tell us everything.”
It echoed in the great hall, but Duncan heard no whispered voices or movement, and thought there weren’t many people deciding his fate. Perhaps Aberfoyle did not want many witnesses to what had happened to Cat. Duncan had brought shame upon her; he would do anything, even lie, to make sure her reputation did not suffer.
“I told ye about my accident,” Cat began slowly. “I learned about Father’s involvement before I even knew he was my father.”
“How do ye know he was involved?” Aberfoyle demanded. “Just the word of an outlaw?”
“At first I took his word. Someone important had to be behind the scenes to permit this level of crime to happen, to try to bury it by discrediting a clan chief—that is not an easy thing to do. But I read the letters our father sent Duncan’s father after the old Laird Carlyle had made inquiries about the missing children. There were threats there, Owen. Our father knew what was going on.”
There was a long tense silence, until Aberfoyle spoke. “I always knew he could be a cruel man. Betrothing ye as a bairn, but never telling any of us, then trying to dishonorably break the contract—none of that spoke well of him. But to allow and encourage children to be sold . . . to know some of my wealth came from cruelty and heartbreak . . . I cannot countenance it. I will work on behalf of those desperate families, see if I can find the children and have them returned, even if I have to buy them back.”
Duncan’s relief was so overwhelming that he dropped his head back and closed his eyes. He hadn’t had the resources for that, had only hoped to stop the practice. But Aberfoyle had the power and wealth to make things right.
