“It seemed an excellent offer. I’ve kenned ye yer entire life. Ye’re a kindhearted woman and more than capable of being chatelaine. Allying with the Douglases is a boon,” Caelan explained. He held no regrets for his decision since he hadn’t known Catherine was a consideration.
“Nay one kenned this until yesterday—nae even the Black—but Maxwell has been manipulating both yer clans. Laird MacLaren, who was it who came to the gathering all those years ago to tell ye that the MacFarlanes raided ye?”
“Ma brother, Marcas,” Caelan answered without hesitation.
“Aye. For years, Uncle Maxwell paid to cause trouble and make it look like the MacFarlanes did it. He stole MacLaren plaids and MacFarlane ones, then had Douglases wear them when they razed the first few fields. He told Marcas he had to get word to ye at the Gathering. He kenned Laird MacFarlane would learn of it from his clan at the same time. Marcas kenned it was never the MacFarlanes.”
“What? Why?” Mòr demanded. Caelan and he stared at one another as they tried to make sense of what Catriona announced. A sickening feeling swept over them both as they wondered if the past three years of destruction and death were for naught. Caelan opened his mouth to speak, but Catriona continued her story.
“He thought the MacLarens would accept our offers of help sooner. He thought ye would welcome the larger clan’s support since ye,” Catriona peered at the MacFarlanes behind Andrew Mòr, “have the Campbells on yer side. He doesnae like how the Campbells’ influence and alliances have grown. He wanted to ally with the MacLarens, so he could maneuver the Campbells into the fight without making it seem like the Douglases started aught. He kens the Black canna stand Brodie. After Marcas died, he paid his sons.”
“But why did Marcas do it to begin with?” Caelan asked no one and everyone. His gaze met Rab’s. After a long pause, he deduced, “He wanted ye and me dead.”
“Cain and Abel.” Rab muttered.
“What?” Caelan asked.
“I always thought he was Cain, and ye were Abel. I have believed since I was a lad that he would have killed ye to be laird if the clan werenae so loyal to ye. They never wanted him to be laird. It would have been a disaster.”
“I bet that’s exactly what Maxwell counted on,” Catherine mused.
“It is. If Laird MacLaren died in battle, then Marcas would be laird. Uncle Maxwell assumed he’d have a puppet leading the MacLarens.”
“Cat, how do ye ken all this? And what are ye doing riding on yer own? Where are yer guards?” Andrew Óg asked, his arms still wrapped around Catriona’s waist.
“I listened to their conversation. I canna say where and how. I willna share that clan secret.” Catriona met Andrew’s gaze. “I rode out early this morning before anyone but the shepherds were up. This is Maxwell’s horse.” Catriona’s grin was infectious, and Andrew smiled until he recalled Catriona was likely to wind up dead for interfering and taking the man’s prized horseflesh.
“Lairds,” Catriona turned away from Andrew. “They’re riding here. The Black and ma father are hopping mad at Maxwell, but with a marriage agreement supposedly accepted, they are coming to support the MacLarens.”
“And the Campbells are on their way,” Andrew Mòr said, as he scrubbed his hand over his face. “Just what he wanted.”
“Aye.” Catriona nodded as she surveyed at the assembled group. “I am so sorry. I wish I’d learned all of this so much sooner. I’m so ashamed.”
“Wheest, Cat,” Andrew Óg whispered against her ear. “Ye arenae responsible for their choices.”
“But ye dinna understand, Óg. I suspected something wasna right ages ago, but I didna do aught. I didna try to learn more. If I had, mayhap yer—”
“Nay. That wasna yer fault, Cat. Dinna think that for a moment. Those men made their own choices.” Andrew looked over Catriona’s head to Rab. “And they paid for them just as they should.”
“But—”
“Cat,” Andrew grasped her shoulders lightly and pushing her back, dipping his chin to gaze into her eyes. “Have ye felt like their deaths were yer fault because ye’ve suspected something wasna right since before the attack? That because I lost ma mother and sisters that we couldnae be together?”
“Aye. But then ye also never approached ma father or uncles. I thought ye didna want me.”
“Cat, I never believed yer family might consider me. Ye’ve kept the weight of this to yerself?”
“Who could I tell? Whether I was right or wrong, it wasna something to discuss with just anyone. The one person I wished to talk to, I couldnae.” Tears welled in Catriona’s eyes as her lip trembled. She shifted her gaze to Catherine. “I couldnae tell ma best friend that I could have kept her aunt and cousins from dying if I’d just spoken ma suspicions when I first had them. I felt like such a failure.”
“Yer family is going to ken, if they havenae figured it out already, that ye rode to warn us. What will they do to ye?” Andrew asked as he lifted the hair from Catriona’s neck then stroked her back.
“The Black and ma father willna do aught but let me languish at court. Maxwell—” Catriona shook her head. “Ma brothers will protect me.”
“Da,” Andrew Óg looked at the older version of his face and build. Andrew Mòr nodded, stunned into silence as he watched his son. He’d never suspected Óg held any soft sentiments for a woman, but it was clear he loved the woman sitting before him. He shifted his focus to Rab and Catherine, who sat similarly. He looked at Caelan, who watched him.
“Lady Catriona, I’d like ye to come back to Inveruglas with us,” Andrew Mòr offered.
“I canna—” The rumble of hundreds of pounding horse hooves cut off Catriona. Everyone swung their attention to where Campbells rode over the same hill the MacFarlanes had not more than an hour earlier. Dominic Campbell walked his horse forward, taking in the scene before him. Two couples sharing horseback and two exhausted looking lairds who seemed to have aged since he’d last seen either of them. He crossed his wrists over his saddle’s pummel and waited.
