“And he sharpened his dirk the night before and handed it to me the morning we rode out.” Laird Caelan MacLaren never ordered his son to kill his nephews, but both Caelan and Rab knew it was the only remedy. Neither liked nor trusted the men, and it had been the ultimate sin on the three young men’s long list.
“Why’d you do it? Why you?”
“It was ma job to punish them, but it was ma choice how I carried it out. They will never harm another innocent.”
“That doesn’t explain executing them. Why?”
“Because it could have been—” Rab peered toward the doorway, but Andrew finished his thought for him.
“Catherine.”
“Aye. She could have been there like yer mother and sisters were. She would have been a boon for them.”
“But she wasn’t. She was here,” Andrew countered.
“That matters nae to me. It could have happened, and I willna live with that risk.”
“She’s here to find a husband, MacLaren.”
“I ken. They would have made her a target to stop any alliance her marriage makes. Is she betrothed?” Rab feared choking over the last word.
“She was close, but it fell through.” At Rab’s cocked eyebrow, Andrew fought not to grimace. “Laird Edgar Gunn. It fell through because of his involvement in Lady Campbell’s abduction. Brodie didn’t take too well to it.”
“And perish the thought that the MacFarlanes insult the great Clan Campbell.” There was little love lost between the MacLarens and the Campbells, but the Campbells’ numbers dwarfed the MacLarens. The two clans kept their distance. Rab glanced at Andrew’s wrists. “I’m surprised to spy ye still have both since I heard ye had a hand in that.”
“Hardly my finest choice. Needless to say, my father opted not to pursue the match. I’m here to secure her marriage.” Andrew crossed his arms.
“And redeem yerself,” Rab added. Glancing once more at the door, Rab lowered his voice, hoping Catherine couldn’t catch the last of his admission. “They suffered the same brutality they committed when they assaulted yer mother and sisters. I disemboweled them, then it was by my hand that they were drawn and quartered. I left their remains to the wild.”
Andrew flinched. The reminder of finding his mother and sisters raped and murdered, compounded by the image of the three men with their arms and legs ripped from their bodies and their intestines strewn around them, made him want to vomit.
“They chose violence, so they died by it. Let their last thought be of the pain and indignity of having their bodies violated by someone stronger.” Rab’s tone held the raw anger and hatred he still harbored. But it softened once more to a whisper. “I dinna want her to ken that side of me.”
Andrew nodded, unable to speak, still choked by emotions crashing over him. There wasn’t a day that passed that he didn’t envision the destruction he encountered as a small band of MacLarens swept through his home. Rab’s three cousins and a team of men scaled the walls at sunset from a boat bobbing in Loch Lomond. They only targeted women, leaving his mother and sisters dead but other women to live with the disgrace and trauma. They stole the women’s dignity and spat in the faces of the men tasked to protect them. Andrew and his father had returned from hunting as the alarm went up. The MacLarens had a man at the postern gate, having killed the MacFarlane guard, and another outside with a boat to carry them the short distance from the tiny Inveruglas Isle to the shore. The MacFarlanes killed a handful, but all three of Rab’s cousins escaped.
Andrew stared at Rab, neither speaking. Swallowing several times, Andrew finally nodded. “I willna tell her.” The raw emotions Andrew fought to contain made his brogue slip through, making him sound as much a Highlander as he and Rab both were.
“I’m here to accept whatever the Bruce decides. To others, I’m here to pay our taxes. But from the way the men glared at us coming through the gates, I’d say most will ken the real reason.” Rab watched Andrew, unsure of his reaction. The penance was likely to be costly, be it coin or forfeited livestock and land. The MacLarens could afford neither, but Rab nor his father could argue with the king’s edict. “I needed to say ma thoughts to ye in private. I need ye to ken that nay matter what the king orders, I ken it will never be enough.”
“Thank ye.”
There was nothing more for either man to say. Backing away, Rab returned his knives to their sheaths and lifted his saddle bags over his shoulder. His horse, trained to be patient throughout battle, hadn’t moved since the conversation started. Rab led him to a stall, knowing Andrew watched him. He carried his saddle and swung it over the wall that separated two stalls. Rab and Andrew exchanged one last look before Rab walked out of the stables.
Looking to his right, it didn’t surprise Rab to find Catherine standing there with her guards. His gaze shifted to find his men milling around a few yards away. He wanted nothing more than to speak to Catherine, to share his apologies with her, but it wasn’t possible. Andrew came to stand in the doorway as the MacFarlane guards encircled Catherine, their height nearly blocking him from her view as she strained to see Rab.
“Good day, Lady Catherine.” Rab walked past and joined his men. The MacLarens left the stables, leaving the MacFarlanes to stare after them.
* * *
Catherine struggled throughout Rab and Andrew’s conversation to catch what she could. She suspected both men knew she stood beyond the door and strained to listen. Rab’s lack of surprise when he spotted her confirmed her suspicion. It made her even more curious to know what they discussed, what Rab said, since he’d chosen to keep her from hearing, both by asking her to leave and by keeping his voice down.
She was certain it was about his cousins and her aunt and cousins. She hadn’t been with her clan during the raid, and it was Andrew who had to inform her when he returned once more to court to arrange her marriage. After he told her what happened, neither had spoken. Andrew had the foresight to have them ride away from the castle. He’d led them to a copse of trees, where they spoke in private. It appeared to anyone watching that Andrew offered her comfort as she sobbed, but he’d cried along with her as they embraced.
Catherine’s parents—Shamus and Adaira—died when she was young, leaving her an only child to be raised by her aunt and uncle. Andrew Óg, Fia, and Greer were more like her siblings than her cousins. While she still had vivid memories of her parents, AndrewMòr, the elder of the two Andrews, and Aveline had raised her as their own for most of her life. Her aunt’s death was like experiencing her mother’s for a second time. It had traumatized Catherine even more than losing her cousins.
She knew Rab’s presence should repulse her, even make her pray for retribution, but she’d known from the start that he played no part in it. As Andrew Óg recounted the events in halting and stammering words, it was he who reassured her that Rab hadn’t been there. When she recognized him in the stables, it hadn’t been her family who she thought of. It had been the summers when she’d seen Rab at the Highland Gatherings that came to mind. It was a time before the MacFarlanes’ and MacLarens’ feud become so violent. All clans suspended their animosity in the spirit of the gatherings, the brief time each year where the Highlanders united in their love of their traditions. While the feats of strength were competitive, it was just as much a showcase. It reminded all present why Robert the Bruce had depended on the Highland warriors to carry him to victory and his throne. And it had been a time for young Rab and young Catherine to grow smitten with one another.
It had been three years since Catherine last spent time with Rab, but in the brief moments he embraced her, it was as though no time had passed. The feel of his arms wrapped around her still held the same rightness as they had when she was seven-and-ten. It was a secret she intended to carry with her, like she had the depth of her feelings toward Rab.
