Page 80 of Beyond Dreams

“Did you hire those men?” He asked, his voice dangerously cool. “The killing in the glen, that was your doing? But it dinna go your way—”

“I had nothing to do with that,” she cried with such vehemence he was almost tempted to believe her.

“Doirin,” he clipped, “why? You’re bound to go, to Haddo or elsewhere.”

“I won’t. I won’t ever leave Thallane.”

“Your tenure is done. Why?”

“Tenure?” She wept, the redness of her cheeks returning with her outrage. “Tenure? Thallane is mine! I live it and breathe it and always have. Since I was a bairn, living in its shadow. I spent half my life striving to ascend to the castle, planning my—”

“So ’twas nae love for my father, nae pride in any MacQuillan, ’twas only and ever the house?” But she hadn’t even bothered to manage it, to love it. Duncan snickered at his own ignorance as the full truth revealed itself to him. “’Tis nae Thallane at all, nae the house, nae my father, nae the MacQuillans. Tis the title. Nae more the milk maid but the lady of the castle in your tiny little corner of the world. That was what you strived for.”

“I am—” she began.

“I am done with you,” he said. “I will write your daughter’s intended, the wedding will take place in Haddo. I want you gone from Thallane.” And with that, he retraced his steps. Before he left for Newburn, he would need to make this order known to Roland and Thallane’s bailiff, Uarraig.

Thirty minutes later, Duncan was finally on his way. Doirin had carried on and he’d been forced to summon two soldiers to see her removed form his presence. He did not give in to the temptation to have her locked in the crypt, but instead had her confined to her chamber.

He rode now for Newburn, following the same trail Graeme had taken with Holly two days ago. He told himself he only pursued Holly with some fear that she might be with child, and he couldn’t stomach the thought of a desperate ne’er do well possibly raising his son, the heir to Thallane.

There was more, of course, other reasons that fought to be heard and acknowledged but which he steadfastly refused to entertain. He didn’t need her or want her; he wouldn’t worry over her or miss her. Not at all.

And despite this, the ride was fraught with such a virulent, self-directed anger, that so much weakness was revealed inside him for chasing after her. And yet he did not turn his steed around, did not abandon the pursuit of his wife.

It was late in the afternoon when he arrived unannounced at Newburn and rode with simmering purpose into the yard. The horn that had sounded his arrival hastened Lucas Thain from his doorway. Nothing could or should be made of his visage, as grim as ever. The MacClellan and the Cameron followed him from the keep. Their severe countenances clenched Duncan’s gut a bit.

“Where is my wife?” He was compelled to ask.

Lucas pointed over his shoulder. “Within. She is well.”

A woman appeared in the open doorway, a beauty with rich black hair and blue eyes. Cameron’s wife, Duncan believed. She gasped and fled, disappearing from the doorway.

“We should take this far afield,” Aedan said, cryptically as Duncan dismounted.

“He’ll need to see her for himself first, I imagine,” Michael surmised.

This gave Duncan pause. He’d counted these men as friends, as allies. He laid his hand on the hilt of his sword, their strange behavior sparking concern.

Lucas lifted his hands to shoulder heights, showing Duncan his palms. “The lass is safe, Dunc. But there is...there is a matter to discuss.”

His blood curdled, little appeased by the Thain’s words.

With a curl of his lip, he strode angrily toward the keep, shouting for Holly as he did.

“Jesu, he’s worse than you, Thain,” groused Aedan.

The three men fell into step behind him but made no attempt to stop him.

Inside the hall, and before his eyes adjusted to the dim light he called out again, “Holly!”

Two women hovered anxiously at the top of the stairs. The black-haired one kept looking off to her right.

“Where is my bluidy wife?” He growled, stomping toward the stairs.

Several hands seized him from behind.

“Hold,” growled Michael. “She comes.”

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