Graham and Ian escorted Jameson Campbell from the hall spitting and raging like a wild boar being dragged to slaughter.
Duncan and Sutherland exited the hall behind them but turned and headed toward the gatehouse.
“Shall we dine?” Lord Crestshire asked as he pulled out a chair for Catriona.
Alexander came close to laughing out loud as Catriona shot the man a grudging look then lowered herself into the chair and scooted up to the table. Seating himself at the head of the table with Catriona on his right, he motioned to the chair on his left. “Sit, old friend.”
Lord Crestshire took his seat then gave Alasdair a polite nod as he seated himself beside Catriona. “And ye are?”
“Clan Neal’s solicitor.” Alasdair gave a formal dip of his chin. “Alasdair Cameron.”
“It pleases me to inform ye that there are no MacCoinnichs on my list,” Lord Crestshire said with a nod first to Alexander and then to Alasdair. “Nor Camerons,” he added. Then he paused, seeming to struggle with some unknown inner demon. “But I will have you know my regiment is sworn to make King William’s presence not only known but very much felt here in the Highlands. I hope you understand but whether you understand or not…it is my duty.”
Alexander filled Edward’s cup, then Catriona’s and his own before passing the bottle of port to Alasdair. He’d thought it better they dine without the servants hearing every word said. He still felt in his bones there was a traitor in their midst. “My understanding depends on your methods, brother.” He’d used the word ‘brother’ with pointed intent to remind Edward of their childhood.
His wording worked as planned because Edward, Lord Crestshire, pushed up the sleeve of his red uniform and bared his muscular right forearm, revealing a thin white line marring the inner skin of his arm. The old scar gleamed with a silver-white sheen in the hall's lighting. “I still consider you a brother as well, Alexander. But not because of two young boys cutting their arms and swearing a bond with their blood.” He jerked his sleeve back down in place, brushed the wrinkles from it, then took a long sip of his port. “The scars you bear that were meant for me are a great deal more significant.”
“What do you mean?” Catriona asked. Her puzzled look flitted back and forth between Edward and Alexander.
Alexander remembered that day and would just as soon not revisit it, but he held up a hand just as Edward opened his mouth to speak. If the tale had to be told, he’d rather do the telling.
“Edward fostered with Clan MacCoinnich for a brief time before the damned sickness destroyed us,” Alexander said. “The both of us were only…” he paused, giving a slow shake of his head as he tried to remember. “Twelve or so?”
Edward nodded but remained silent.
Alexander reached out and took Catriona’s hand, willing his wife to behave and play nice. “As I'm sure ye've already realized, Edward and I became fast friends, blood brothers even.”
“Aye,” Catriona said in a soft, patient tone. “Go on.”
Unable to look anywhere other than down at the table, Alexander kept a tight hold on Catriona’s hand as he spoke. “The last winter Edward spent with my clan was bitter cold. The loch had frozen solid, solid enough to slide upon. Or so we thought.”
“He broke through,” Catriona said with a hard squeeze of his hand. “Ye saved him from drowning.”
“I managed to save him,” Alexander said, struggling to keep his tone even and free of emotion. “But I couldna save the chieftain’s daughter. She'd slipped too far under the ice and her skirts pulled her down fast.” He paused and snorted out a disgruntled huff. He gave a sad shake of his head. “She was out of my reach and unable to move through her panic. I feared to swim too far from the hole in the ice. I feared I would become trapped and no' be able to find my way back to the blessed air.”
Catriona sat open-mouthed, her free hand pressed to her chest and her eyes wide.
“Everyone knew I favored the lass, and that she favored me,” Edward said, breaking into the conversation. “The clan blamed me for her death—said if I had truly cared about her I would never have done something so foolhardy as to lead her out onto the ice.” Edward swallowed hard, regret and the darkness of self-imposed guilt etched in the lines of his face. “And maybe they were right.”
“'Twas an accident, brother,” Alexander said, using the same words he’d used to soothe himself for years. “A foolish pair of lads and a lass, all too young and free of worries to pay heed to caution or fear.”
“The chieftain punished the both of ye for the accident?” Catriona asked.
“Beat Alexander until he was bloody,” Edward said, lifting his downcast gaze to Alexander then shifting it to Catriona. “He nearly died because he lied to the chief to save me. Told the man he had been the one to coax Leannan out onto the ice and that I had happened by and fallen in while trying to save them. He knew the chief would have ordered my beating be more severe since I was an outsider responsible for his daughter’s death.”
Edward took another sip of port then turned back to Alexander. “I shall do what I can to shield you and your clan from the scourging. But know this, the Highlands are no longer a safe haven for traitors or anyone harboring ill will toward the Crown. His Highness has deemed it will be so for the good of all in the realm and I am sworn to see it through. Tread lightly, my friend, in everything you do, for your own sake and the sake of those you cherish.”
A deep foreboding filled Alexander, churned in his gut like a great beast awakening. He brought Catriona’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her knuckles before turning back to Edward. “Do what ye can but know this, when your protection falls short, I will no' leave this life quietly nor fail to fight for what is mine.”
Edward gave a slow nod, his jaw tightening as he lifted his chin and leveled his gaze with Alexander’s. “Understood.”
