“I had nothing to do with that,” Lizzie said, shaking her head while backing toward the doors. “I swear on my mother’s grave.”
“Nothing to do with what?” Calder asked, his tone cold and deadly.
“Shut it, Lizzie,” Duff warned her. “Shut it now.”
Lizzie shook her head faster. “Nay. I willnashut it. I willna be banished from this clan for the likes of ye.” Her raised hand trembling, she pointed at him. “’Twas him that betrayed our chieftain. Said he did it to be rid of Teague because I wouldna marry him any other way.” Tears that actually seemed real streamed down her cheeks. “He set up the trap with the fake messenger to convince Teague to call the meeting. And he sent a map to Walpole. To lead him here. ’Twas also him who showed the agent where to find the papers in the desk.”
A hard thunk cut her off and backed her up a step. Eyes wide, Lizzie sputtered and clawed at the dagger sticking out from the base of her throat. She stumbled to the floor, flailed for a brief moment, then became still.
Muffled curses jerked Mila’s focus away from the dying girl. She turned in time to witness Dugald shoving his sword deeper up under his twin brother’s ribcage.
“Ye have always been a feckin’ idiot, my brother,” Dugald growled. “Always.” He caught Duff as he crumpled and gently lowered him to the floor.
“She b-bewitched me,” Duff choked out, his gruff voice wheezing into nothingness. “Was the only…”
Death ended his excuses.
Dugald yanked his sword free and, with his head bowed, walked over to Mila. He dropped to one knee and offered her the haft of his weapon. “He was my twin, but please know, I am not my brother.” He lowered his head even more. “But if ye canna stomach my bloodline, I understand. I offer my life for the horrible cost my sibling made our clan pay. I beg yer forgiveness, m’lady.”
She stepped down from the dais and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Justice has already been served, my friend. Rise. Yer chieftain needs ye alive, and so do I. Help me save him, aye?”
“We will save him, m’lady. I swear it on my life.” Dugald rose and charged from the room without another look back.
Mila motioned for Mrs. Cain, who stood in the shadows of an archway. The scowling housekeeper hurried across the hall to her, spitting on Duff’s body as she passed it. “Aye, m’lady?”
“Have the lads bury them, then divide their things among the clan so that every last valuable can be packed for the trip. Nothing of any worth must be left at Éirich by the time we meet in Fort William with my husband. Ye will see to it, aye?”
The matron smiled. “I will, m’lady. God bless and keep ye.” She turned and made the sign of the cross over the men still waiting for their mistress’s orders. “God bless all of ye. Ye will be in my fiercest prayers.”
“Are we ready, then?” Calder asked.
“Not yet. I must have a word with Lady MacDonald. For Teague’s sake.” Mila waved Robbie over. “Once again, I ask ye to stay here and oversee the packing and transfer to Fort William. Please. It will be safer.”
He glared at her. “I am not a maid, Mi. I am coming with ye.”
“Just because Calder taught ye to fight and use a bow doesna mean ye are invincible.” She hated the thought of him in danger.
“Teague is the closest thing I have had to a da since mine went to heaven. I owe it to him to be there.” He mimicked Teague’s lopsided grin. It almost made her sob. “I will be outside waiting for ye, aye?”
“Aye,” she whispered, then turned and marched up the stairs to Grandmother MacDonald’s chambers.
Bethia opened the sitting-room door just as she reached for the latch. “She asks for ye,” she said quietly. As Mila moved past, Bethia caught hold of her arm. “Dinna stop her, aye? She is so tired of suffering. I promise I will see to her proper.”
Alarmed, Mila bolted for the bedchamber and burst into the room.
“Oh, dear. And here I specifically told her not to warn ye. The lass does not listen well of late.” Reclining in a mass of pillows, Lady MacDonald looked more serene than Mila had ever seen her. Including the many years ago when she visited Gran for tea and talked of spells. She held a small, clear vial between her hands that rested on her lap. “Tell him I love him fierce and will always watch over him, aye?” She lifted the tiny glass bottle and smiled. “I have outlived my husband and both my children. I cannot bear the pain of a broken heart and a useless body any longer.”
Mila eased down onto the edge of the bed and sat beside her. “Ye willna be lonely once we save him. And then we will be off to France for the winter, then Nova Scotia in the spring.”
The old hen shook a finger and cocked a sparse brow. “Nay, child. Do they call it Nova Scotia yet? I thought it was stillMi’kma’kior the Northern Territory.”
“It was named Nova Scotia in 1621. But that doesna matter now. Please come with us.” Mila’s heart ached at the thought of losing the cantankerous old woman, but she understood. She remembered her grandmother’s last days battling cancer had caused her excruciating pain and suffering. By the time her soul broke free of her body, it was almost a relief. “What will Teague do without ye? He says ye are his conscience.”
Grandmother MacDonald patted her on the leg. “Ye are his conscience now.” Then she frowned and motioned for Mila to stand. “What the devil are ye wearing?”
“I refuse to fight the tangle of skirts and petticoats while I ride across the Highlands to kill my husband’s captors.”
The old woman shrugged and patted the blankets for Mila to sit back down. “Fair enough, I reckon.” She shifted with a deep breath but didn’t sigh. Instead, she smiled. “Thank ye, child.”
