“From the first moment he touched me,” Katherine said. “I never forgot. Even with all the time we were apart.” She twined her fingers through Iain’s. “And here we are. Just like any other old married couple.”
Ranald snorted.
“I’d watch who you’re mocking,” Iain said. “I seem to remember a certain silver-haired lass bowling you over with merely a smile.”
“I’ll no’ argue with that,” Ranald acquiesced. “I make no’ secret o’ the fact that I adore my wife. But she happens to hail from our very own century—which doesn’t make as interesting a tale.”
“So you think that Lily will come back to me?” Bram asked, hating the pleading note in his voice. “For I have the notion that she’s taken my heart with her back to this Connecticut.”
“I canna say anything for certain,” Iain said, “except that the heart is a powerful thing. And what it wants canna be easily put aside. Even when separated by the boundaries of time.”
Bram nodded, feeling a stirring of hope and fear.
“Perhaps ’tis best that she’s no’ here now,” Ranald said. “With your father dead, and your enemies hunting you, she’d surely be in danger.”
Again Katherine and Iain exchanged a look.
“You’re thinking of Alisdair,” Ranald said.
“Aye.” Iain nodded. “May the bastard rot in hell.”
“But we survived,” Katherine said, her fingers tightening around Iain’s. “And so shall you, Bram. And with luck you’ll find your Lily as well.” She stood up. “I’ll leave you now. I know you have important things to discuss.”
The men stood.
“You’re a lucky man, Iain,” Bram said as he watched her walk away.
“Ach, don’t I know it.” They sat again, and Iain leaned forward. “But Katherine’s right. We need to talk. What happened at Dunbrae?”
Bram told them everything that had transpired. About his father’s death. The Comyns. And the idea of a traitor in their midst.
“What have you heard?” Bram asked, after finishing his tale.
“You’re no’ going to like it,” Ranald said, his grim expression foreboding.
“Tell me.”
“They’re saying you were the traitor.” Iain’s expression was inscrutable, and Bram felt anger rising. “That you were the one who killed your father.”
“They lie,” Bram rose to his feet, reaching for his dirk.
Ranald held out a hand in supplication. “Of course they do. The question being who exactlytheyare.”
“It has to be the Comyns,” Bram insisted. “They’re our closest enemy. And Alec Comyn would gain much by taking our holding.”
“Dunbrae wasn’t taken, Bram,” Iain said. “If it was Comyn, it wasn’t because he wanted the tower.”
“Then why the attack?” Bram asked.
“I dinna know.” Ranald shrugged. “But revenge seems the most likely explanation. Had your father done something to anger the man?”
“Not that he told me. But I’d only just arrived, and there had no’ been much time for talking. If he dinna take the tower, then are my father’s men in charge again?” His thoughts turned to Frazier and Robby.
“Nay.” Iain’s eyes were filled with regret. “There were no survivors.”
Rage threatened to overcome him, and Bram’s fingers closed around the dirk, the faces of his friends running through his mind. “I swear on my life, Alec Comyn will die for this.”
“You know I’ll stand with you,” Iain said. “But you must also know that Comyn is denying his involvement. And for the moment, your great uncle has chosen to believe him.”
