Chapter 20
Asoft rap on the door interrupted his restless dozing. He drew his pistol and dagger. Who dared? Without a sound, he rose from the chair beside Catriona’s bed and pressed the back of one hand to her bare arm lying on top of the covers. Still cool to the touch. Good. No sign of fever yet. Old Elena had feared fever might set in due to the depth of the wounds. Tucking his dagger into the front of his belt but keeping his pistol aloft, he used his free hand to snug her arm under the covers and kissed her forehead before going to the door.
He paused with a finger on the latch then drew back and tightened his grip on the pistol. Clan Neal had yet to win back his trust. He would take no risks with Catriona. “Who knocks?”
“'Tis Munroe Neal, sir. I’ve brought the lady’s brothers to see her.”
Alexander paused. If memory served, Catriona’s fifteen-year-old brother Angus had been Calum’s shadow and well on his way to becoming as arrogant and cruel as his mentor. He glanced back at Catriona, unresponsive as she’d been since the ill-planned attack. “Visitors are ill-advised. Perhaps in a few days’ time but no’ today.”
“Would ye be willing to come out and speak to us, sir?” Munroe asked through the door. “I ken ye dinna wish to overtax your lady or leave her, but if ye’d see fit to come out and meet with us here in the lady’s sitting room for but a wee moment, 'twould be most appreciated.”
Where the hell were his men? They’d camped out in the attached sitting room whilst he’d stayed at Catriona’s side. Alexander heard the scuffling of feet and whisperings of muffled voices outside the door. He sensed ill-will a comin’. ’Twas a trap for certain. Alexander drew his dagger from his belt then cocked his pistol. He flipped the lock on the door with the tip of the sword and stepped back. “Open the door.”
“Beg pardon, sir?” Munroe said.
“Open the door. I’ve unlocked it.”
“Aye, sir.” The door eased open into the sitting room, revealing a short, squat wizened old man and Catriona’s nine-year-old twin brothers craning their necks around the elder’s round body to see their sister.
Munroe Neal’s watery blue eyes widened, and his bushy brows jumped near to his grizzled hairline. “S-sir?” His nervous stutter hissed and broke as his gaze locked on the barrel of the gun. “We mean no harm.” He lifted trembling hands, stretching his plump fingers wide. He scowled down at the young boys inching toward the open door and yanked them both back behind him. “I bear no arms and neither do the bairns. I swear it.”
“Graham! Duncan!” Alexander shouted, not trusting the old man or the young boys. He’d take no foolish risks.
Father William threw open the outer door to the sitting room and hurried to him. With a congenial nod to Munroe and the two boys, he pushed past them then stopped short when his nose came even with the end of the gun. His perplexed attention shifted to Alexander. “Alexander! Whatever vexes ye, man?”
“Where is everyone?”
“I told them to go walk about.” He scowled at Alexander, pressed two fingers atop the gun barrel, and pushed it downward. “They've grown a mite surly from being cooped up. I told them I’d stand watch.”
Alexander nodded toward the old man and two boys still standing in the door. “Ye failed, priest.”
“I did not!” Father William drew himself up to his full scrawny height and fixed Alexander with a shaming scowl. “I searched them for weapons and asked them about their business before letting them in.” He gave Alexander a quick up and down glare then huffed. “I thought ye might could handle an old man and two wee lads on your own. Shall I fetch your brothers to come and assist ye?”
“Dinna make me sin even more than I already have, priest.” Alexander had never backhanded a priest nor cursed at one but at the moment his stains upon his soul were no' his greatest concern. Fraught with weariness and worry, he couldna guarantee his actions would remain civil toward anyone. He disarmed the pistol but kept it in his hand as he sheathed his dagger. “Stand watch and pray over Catriona, if ye would, aye?”
“Aye,” Father William said with a conciliatory smile. He waved a hand toward the sitting room and nodded. “See to your guests. I’ll watch over the lady.”
Alexander entered the sitting room, closed the bedroom door behind him, then took a defensive stance in front of it. He folded his arms across his chest and cradled the pistol in the crook of his elbow where it couldna fail to be noticed.
“We’d never hurt our Catriona,” said one twin, perhaps the one called Murray. With matching mops of flaming red hair and identical freckled faces, Alexander couldna tell the two wee imps apart.
“She’s like our mam,” the other twin said, puffing out his narrow chest and jutting his chin forward in the fiercest threatening scowl a nine-year-old could muster. “We came to make sure ye’re watching over her proper or we’ll be setting matters right, we will.”
“Dougal. Murray. Mind your manners and go over there and sit whilst I speak with Mr. MacCoinnich.” Munroe encouraged the boys with a slight shove in that direction.
Alexander returned the twins’ glaring looks as though they were young men. He admired their bravado and remembered how Catriona had fussed over them like a mother hen. She loved them. Trusted them. Perhaps in time, he would trust them, too. “Your sister is no’ awake, but she rests easy and has no fever.” He’d give them that. They had a right to know if they loved her as much as they seemed.
Both boys nodded, their fierce scowls shifting to expressions of worry.
Munroe stepped forward and gave Alexander a polite nod. “Munroe Neal, sir. I am the head of Clan Neal’s elders and therefore 'tis my duty to extend our gratitude to ye.” He glanced over at the young boys sitting on the settee then looked back at Alexander with a somber scowl. “Clan Neal has suffered a great deal over the years but thanks be to God, ye’ve rid us of the festering disease we’ve endured for so long.”
Alexander studied the man. Head of the elders. A man of standing in the clan. He seemed to wish to be an ally, but that was yet to be determined. From what Catriona had said, the men of Clan Neal had always cowered, first, before Catriona’s father and then before her brother. Alexander couldna fathom how they’d willingly live under such conditions. Why the blazes had they no' fought to better their circumstances? “Catriona has another brother.” He’d say no more. He wanted to hear how Munroe addressed it.
“Angus is gone.” Munroe folded his hands in front of his thick middle and settled his short, stocky stance as though he’d be there for a while. “He ran when he heard of Calum’s death. We dinna ken where.”
“If I learn ye are lying or hiding the boy so he can seek revenge…” Alexander paused and lifted the barrel of his pistol enough to highlight his words. “I shall hunt ye down and make ye rue the day ye tried to deceive me.”
Munroe smiled. A smile that crinkled his eyes and made them sparkle. “Ye have my word that the useless cur has run with his tail tucked.” He paused, fixing Alexander with a scrutinizing glance as he clasped his hands to the small of his back and meandered in a small circle in the center of the sitting room. “Would ye care to share your plans once Lady Catriona is healed?”
