She will need time, Alex’s voice rang in Kieran’s ears, his doctor’s voice calm and steady.Be patient. Do not press her too hard.
Easy for Alex to say.
Significantly harder for Kieran to do.
Six years.
Six years of not knowing what had happened to her, believing her dead, trying to convince his heart that she couldn’t possibly be alive.
And yet his heart had insisted. Somehow, he had known that she was out there. Waiting to be found.
He wanted her back. He wanted his wife, Jamie, who laughed and cajoled and loved him with bright ferocity.
He wanted to know each thought in her head, the details of every day that had transpired without him at her side.
And he wanted it all now, now, now.
He was so damn tired of waiting.
“Why am I anhonoredguest, as you say, of the Countess of Kildrum?” she asked.
He clasped his hands on the table and forced his restless muscles to relax. “As I said earlier, ye are among friends. Ewan Campbell, who was the artist aboard ship, married the Countess of Kildrum two years ago. Her ladyship has kindly housed ye here in Old Kilmeny Castle. Kilmeny Hall, the grand estate ye passed along the lane to the castle, is her ladyship’s abode. The other members of the Brotherhood are here, too, but they are staying in the Hall.”
He didn’t add that they were all similarly anxious and hopeful, wanting Jamie to remember their shared history and friendship.
She sipped her tea, absorbing this information. “You arestilldancing around the point, Master MacTavish. I fail to see what all this has to do with me, specifically. You have clearly plotted with the Gillespies to essentially abduct me for no true reason that I can discern—”
“Like myself and the others, the Gillespiesdocare about ye, lass.”
“Forgive me for not believing you.” Jamie winced and shook her head, that lovely jaw of hers clenching again. “Tell me why I should remain another hour in this place?”
Kieran hated the insecurity rolling off her, the wee tremor in her fingers as she held her teacup.
“Ye are here because questions aboutThe Minerva’s true fate continue to be raised,” he replied. “A procurator fiscal in Aberdeen—Mr. Patterson—lost a cousin aboard the ship. Given this, Mr. Patterson has convinced the Judge Admiral in Aberdeen to open yet another formal inquiry.”
“An inquest?”
“Well,inquest is a rather English word for it. Mr. Patterson will conduct what he has been calling a ‘fact-finding inquiry’ tomorrow at Kilmeny Hall. Your presence, as well as mine, has been commanded.”
Her nostrils flared. “Why? I cannot remember anything useful.”
“Aye, and the procurator fiscal has been repeatedly told this. Mr. Patterson’s reply is, ‘I shall be the judge of that.’ We were told tae deliver you ourselves, or Mr. Patterson would have ye summoned. As your friends, we decided ye would prefer to travel here in a fine carriage, as opposed to a prison wagon.”
“I see.” She paused. “But . . . but why involve the Gillespie’s in this at all? Why not simply tell me the truth? I would have come.”
Kieran stared at her. “Would ye, though?”
A pause.
Finally, she sighed. “Well . . . I wouldlikelyhave come.”
“Precisely.”
Another pause.
“Was . . . was Gillespie paid off?” she asked, her voice faint.
“In a sense.” Though he said the words gently, there was no way to spare her this additional hurt. “A donation was made to his next trip to New Caledonia in the South Pacific.”
