And now he loved her as Eilidh.
He would likely still love her once she was Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
He would leave tomorrow, directly after the meeting with the Judge Admiral, regardless of the outcome.
He respected Eilidh’s right to walk away from him.
But he didn’t have the strength to stand by and watch it occur.
A rattle near the front door of the inn caught his attention.
“Ho, there!” An English voice called. “Innkeep!”
“Is no one about?” Another voice joined him.
“I cannot say,” the first replied. “Innkeep!”
“Ye’ll have tae ring the bell, Lieutenant,” a familiar voice joined in. “They cannae hear ye.”
A sickly sensation crawled up Kieran’s spine.
No.
It couldn’t be.
And yet . . .
Kieran leaned forward so he could see past the bar and into the entryway.
Two red-coated officers stood in the doorway.
And behind them, a third man—grizzled and older than when Kieran had seen him last, but still unmistakable—
Captain Martin Cuthie.
In the flesh.
Kieran drew in a slow, measured breath.
Of course.
He was an eejit to not have put it all together. If Cuthie and Massey had landed in Peterhead, they would need to travel south to Aberdeen. And that path could send them past Kilmeny Hall.
The officers accompanying the captain were not gaolers, per se. The Admiralty had likely sent them along to pay for travel and ensure that Cuthie arrived on time.
Robert Massey stepped in behind the men.
“The ostler says they’re running a skeletal crew tonight, Captain.” Massey’s voice carried across the empty dining room. “There is a festival at the grand house across the fields.”
“Is that what that racket is?” one of the officers snorted.
“Aye, Lieutenant.” Massey nodded. “The potman says ye’ll need tae speak with him about a room.”
The Lieutenant sighed and motioned for his fellow officer to follow him back into the stableyard. The two men disappeared out the door, leaving Cuthie and Massey in the entryway.
“I didn’t say the interesting part in front of the lieutenant,” Massey continued. “The grand house with the festival? It’s owned by Lady Kildrum.”
Cuthie’s head whipped upright. “Lady Kildrum? Ye mean that countess Ewan Campbell married?”
