“Ye said ‘we’. Who is ‘we’? The last I looked, it was ye, my nephew Reid Campbell, who was in charge of this castle. So I wonder why ye say ‘we could have arranged a proper reception,’ rather than ‘I’. Who is we?” His eyes snapped to Abigail. “Unless this woman is now in charge of my castle too?”
Reid clenched his jaw. “Uncle, this is Lady Abigail Fenton. She has been helping Martin to run the estate.”
Abigail lifted her chin and met Laird Campbell’s steely gaze.
He stared at her in silence. Then, after a moment, he looked over his shoulder and barked, “Is this the one?”
Two men stepped out from the knot of warriors behind Laird Campbell. One was Malcolm, who he’d sent to his uncle weeks ago. But the other... Reid’s stomach tightened with sudden fury.
The other was Domnall Maguire.
“What is he doing here?” he snarled. “Guards! Grab that bastard and throw him in a cell!”
As his men moved to obey, Laird Campbell raised a hand to stop them.
“I give the orders around here,” he said softly. “Or had ye forgotten that, Reid? This ismycastle. These aremymen.” He pulled his considerable bulk to his feet and looked at Malcolm and Domnall. “Well? I asked ye a question. Is she the one?”
“Aye, my lord,” Malcolm replied. “She appeared in that cell out of thin air, I swear it. There’s no way she could have gotten in there except by foul sorcery.”
“And she bewitched me, my lord,” Domnall added. “Tried to seduce me then had Reid’s hell hounds try to rip my throat out.”
“What?” Abigail cried. “You lying bastard!” She clenched her fists and took a step towards Domnall, fury flashing in her eyes.
Reid stepped in front of her, putting himself between her and the others. He glared at Malcolm and then Domnall. “Retract what ye just said or I will cut out yer lying tongues.”
Domnall went white and backed up a step but Laird Campbell suddenly signaled to his men. Two of them grabbed Abigail’s arms.
“What are you doing?” she cried, struggling in their grip. “Let go of me!”
Laird Campbell stared at her dispassionately. “Woman, ye are under arrest as a witch and a Muir spy.”
“What? I’m no such thing! Are you crazy?” she struggled and fought but the men held her fast.
Reid flung himself at the guards holding Abigail, punching one in the face hard enough to break his nose, then pivoting and kicking the other in the knee. In seconds they were down and Reid grabbed Abigail, pushing her behind him and glaring around at the men.
“This is all horseshit,” he barked. “Abigail is no witch and is no Muir spy. Ye would believe Domnall Maguire?” This last was aimed at Laird Campbell.
“Nay, I wouldnae believe Domnall Maguire,” his uncle replied, glancing at his fallen men. “But Iwouldbelieve the evidence of my own eyes. Malcolm?”
Malcolm stepped forward, took out something that looked like a small piece of parchment, and handed it to Laird Campbell. He looked at it, then looked at Abigail, then looked at the parchment again.
“Aye,” he said. “It’s her all right.” To Reid he said, “If she isnae a Muir spy then how do ye explain this?”
He handed Reid the scrap of parchment. It was a painting, although it was so small, so detailed, and so lifelike it was like no painting Reid had ever seen. It showed two women, both smiling. One of those women was Abigail and the other was...
His heart stopped. No. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.
He whirled on Abigail. “What is this?”
With a puzzled expression, she examined the parchment in his hand and her eyes widened in surprise. “That’s my photograph! I thought I’d dropped it. Where did you get it?”
He shook his head, feeling the world tilt around him. “How...how do ye know the other woman in this painting?”
“That’s Layla,” she replied. “My friend. The one I told you about, remember?”
God help him, she didn’t even deny it. A hot stab of pain and betrayal cut right through his chest. No. Not this. Not Abigail. It couldn’t be.
“How could ye?” he whispered. “After everything. How could ye?”
