“I canna tell ye everything,” she finally said. “But ye are right about Robbie and me being on the run.” She turned from the window and faced him. “And Robbie is my godson. But I love him like my own.” Her expression became more intense, almost threatening. “And I will protect him like a son.”
Teague lifted his glass. “He is a fine lad, m’lady.” After draining the dredges left in the small goblet, he placed it on the table beside him.
“A vile group held us hostage. I canna say their names.” She slowly walked toward him, wringing her hands while frowning down at the floor. “But we escaped them during a terrible storm and havena looked back since.”
He rose from the chair, ready to order his men to ride out and thrash the fiends. “Whatgroup, m’lady?”
She shook her head and turned aside. “Please dinna ask,” she said so softly he almost missed it. “I canna tell ye that or all that we endured. Not yet.” Then she squared her shoulders and faced him again, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But I swear on my own life that they will not harm this clan. Nor will they harm you.”
“How can ye be so certain they are not still after ye?”
“Because they are lazy bastards,” Robbie said. He stood in the doorway of the bathing chamber, a wrap of linen clutched around his scrawny waist, water puddling around his feet. “The king paid them to take us to the port at Fort William and send us to the Colonies. They decided to save themselves the trouble and kill us here in the mountains. Figured nobody would find us. During the storm, we slipped away and hid. Clung to the side of a cliff.” The lad gave a proud wink. “We tore a cloth and stuck it to a bush on the edge. Those fools laughed about us falling to our deaths and saving them even more time and trouble.”
“So, they believe ye dead?” Teague wanted to trust the boy’s story, but an uneasiness nagged at him.
“Aye,” Mila said. “They thought us dead and headed on to Fort William.”
“And why did the king exile ye to the Colonies?” That was the part that worried him most.
“Robbie’s father was well favored at court. Jealousy and the fact that Robbie’s mother would not cede to the Duke of Montfort’s lecherous wishes ended that favor. The king ordered them exiled after a false accusation of treason. While fighting our captors, they were killed.” She moved to Robbie’s side and smoothed his dripping hair out of his face. “We escaped.”
The story seemed valid enough—except for one thing. Teague gave her an encouraging nod. “That explains Master Robbie’s presence here, but not yers. What is yer part in this travesty, m’lady?”
“I defended Robbie’s parents and exposed the lies being told about them out of petty jealousy and wounded pride.” Dark eyes flashing, she kept her gaze locked with his, daring him to call her a liar. “Since my house is not among the most powerful in the Lowlands, the court deemed me a traitor as well.”
“I see.” He really didn’t see and hadn’t decided if what the two said was the truth or not. Although he had to admit that what they described had a realness to it. They definitely appeared invested in the story. “And might I know yer real name, m’lady?”
“Lady Mila Loraine Carthson of Roxburghe. The duke is my brother.”
“I dinna ken the name.” A lie, of course. But only a harmless one to aid in discovering the actual truth this lady fought so hard to hide.
“As I said, my house is not among the most powerful in the Lowlands.” She gave an embarrassed shrug. “The only time I ever attended court was to accompany Robbie’s mother.” Her expression hardened. “To lift my voice in defense of her.”
Weariness painted shadows beneath her eyes. It tensed her voice to the point of hoarseness. The woman needed rest. She most definitely had not lied about that.
Teague offered a polite bow, gave Robbie a nod, then crossed to the door. He cast a look back before opening it. “Rest, m’lady, so I might enjoy yer company at supper.” After a meaningful pause, he added, “Ye are safe here, Lady Mila. Ye need not run anymore.”
Chapter Seven
“How are wegonna remember all those names?” Robbie came to a standstill on the stairs. He angled sideways and frowned back at her. “What were they again?”
“Duke of Montfort is the bad guy. Roxburghe is my…whatever. Since I told him the house was minor, it’ll need to be a low level of the peerage. More like an honorary something or other.” Mila carefully lowered herself to sit on a step. All the yardage in this clothing would take some getting used to. She already hated the way the constrictive stays bit into her if she bent the wrong way.
“Will they not be waiting for us? Grissa said we are expected at the head table.”
“I need a moment, aye?” She wasn’t quite ready for whatever awaited them at supper.
Robbie followed her lead and sat too, propping his arms on his knees. “What if he tries to look up those names? What then?”
“At least he canna do an internet search.” She had no suitable answer. “If he finds out I lied…” She couldn’t finish that sentence because she didn’t know what she would do. Lies did not come easy to her, but currently, anxiety did. There was so much to figure out. She massaged her temples. The pounding in her head had laughed at the willow bark tea.
A reassuring pat on her arm shamed her. She should be the strong one. Not Robbie. His sweet, trusting gaze made her eyes glaze over with tears.
“Aww now, dinna cry, Mi,” he said softly. “Least we landed in a decent place, and Chieftain Teague seems kind enough. I like him. Do ye not?” He grinned. “I really think he fancies ye. Why else would he enjoy nettling ye or keep offering his help?”
“Robbie.” The passage she had read about Teague’s execution still made her sick. Worse than sick. It hurt her heart and battered her conscience because they had to ignore it. Why did the infernal man have to be so…so damn nice and caring? And big-hearted. Grissa’s stories about those he had taken in and helped only made her feel worse. This good man would be dead in months. “Robbie.”
The lad shook his head. “I dinna like it when my name gets stuck on repeat. Go on and say whatever it is that is so bad.”
