“Why nae?” Owen reasoned it was the perfect solution for their predicament.
“You would become a fugitive, Laird Dunn,” Brandon lowered his voice, not in threat but in warning, “and the Earl would raise his army and summon all of his bannermen in order to catch you. If he could not catch you, he would take your clan, your family, your castle, and anything that stood in his way, until he smoked you out of hiding. He is bereft to the point of madness, Laird Dunn, and one should never toy with madness.”
Owen hated to admit it, but, for once, an Englishman was speaking a great deal of sense. If there was one thing the Laird of Dunn would not do, it was risk the lives of everyone under his protection.
“Very well.” Owen shook his head in annoyance.
Brandon put his hand through the bars. “I know you have little reason to, but you can put your faith in me. I will not see you die for a crime you did not commit, and I will have justice for the friend that I lost. But we must be patient.”
“That’s simple for ye to say. Ye’re nae the one stuck in a dungeon.”
Brandon nodded. “I realize that.” He wiggled his fingers. “Does this mean we have an understanding?”
Owen took the proffered hand and shook it, knowing that, for the second time since the end of the battle, he did not have a choice.
5
“How dare he behave in such a way. How dare he turn his back on me like that. If I were a man, he would not have done it,” Heather ranted, as she marched through the sun-soaked grounds of Gallagher Castle. Summer would soon give way to autumn, but the day was warm and the sky was blue, as if mocking Heather’s grief.
“If you were a man, you could duel him and be done with it,” replied her lady’s maid and confidante, Jemima Perkins. “You should’ve told me of your plan, M’Lady. I’m skinny as a rake. I could’ve slipped between the bars and beaten him six shades of black for you!”
Heather nodded in furious agreement. “Perhaps, I should duel him anyway. William taught me to use a pistol, and though I am not particularly good in the art, I know the heavens would guide my shot.” She glanced at her friend. “I am sorry I did notinform you of my endeavor. I would have told you of it later, but I needed it to be done in secret.”
“Mr. Watson always has a way of finding you, though, doesn’t he?” Jemima smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
Mustering the ghost of a laugh, Heather nudged the younger woman. “I am no threat to your future romance, dear Jemima. He is entirely yours, once the two of you decide to confess to one another. He is protective of me, that is all.”
“M’Lady, you can’t say such things!” Jemima blushed furiously. “There’s naught between Mr. Watson and me. What would he want with a lady’s maid?”
Heather sighed. “Brandon is not like that, as you well know. He does not judge someone based upon their employment or their station or their income. Indeed, I rather wish Ididhave some sort of romantic attachment to him, for he would make an exemplary husband.” She flashed a wink at her friend. “You will have to tell me, one day, if I am correct in that assumption.”
“I beg you, M’Lady, don’t speak so. If you raise my hopes, it’ll only hurt more when they’re dashed.” Jemima looped her arm through Heather’s. “What of this prisoner, anyway? You’ve told me so little of your encounter, though I can see you’re furious. I heard some of the maids talking about him. Apparently, he’s incredibly handsome.”
Heather’s hackles rose. “Handsome he may be, but that does not change the monster that he is.”
She immediately regretted the curtness of her tone, as she watched Jemima’s eyes widen in panic. It was not the maid’s fault. Gossip spread like wildfire through a rural castle, where there was little else for entertainment. Moreover, Laird Dunnwasexceptionally handsome. The most handsome man that Heather had ever seen, which made it all the more upsetting that she could not cast his exquisite face and heroic figure from her mind.
The way he looked at me when he first saw me… I do not think anyone has ever looked at me that way before, as if I were something truly remarkable.She scolded herself for thinking such a thing, though the image of his twinkling eyes, half-smiling lips, exposed chest, and muscular calves would not be persuaded to go away.
“I don’t know if I’m allowed to say this, M’Lady, but do you think your father might be mistaken?” Jemima peered up at Heather with a worried expression. “I know I shouldn’t listen to hearsay, but some of the laundry maids overheard men from the guard talking about the prisoner. One of them said something like, “He’s just the scapegoat.” Of course, we shouldn’t pay it any heed… should we?”
Heather frowned toward a coppice of hawthorns in the near distance, where a pair of turtle doves nuzzled on a swaying bough. The blossoms had long gone, but the leaves were still green. Soon, every tree in the grounds of Gallagher Castle would lose its verdant summer plumage, and cold, unforgiving weather would make it impossible to take her pleasant walks.
“What else did they say?” she asked. It could not hurt to know what the castle residents were gossiping about.
Jemima cleared her throat, preparing herself for a torrent of information. “Well, there was some mention that your father was overcome with grief, which is to be expected, and that he needs someone to punish in order to recover. Another said, ‘He’s lost his only heir and lost that heir fighting the Scots. Of course he’s going to want to see a Scot executed for it.’ Then, there was a small discussion about your father blaming himself for not acting sooner, and knowing it was hopeless before that Scot even came to the camp.”
“Is that true?” Heather came to an abrupt halt, feeling a strange tickle in the pit of her stomach. Akin to instinct, it swept up into her chest, bringing a current of something like guilt.
Why should I be the one to feel guilt?she asked herself internally, though she already knew the answer. The very fact that she was considering Jemima’s less-incriminating words and thinking constantly of Laird Dunn’s handsomeness made her guilty.
Jemima shrugged. “I don’t know, M’Lady. There might be no truth in it, or there might be some. I suppose you would’ve had to be there to know.” She paused. “Have you spoken to Mr. Watson about it? He was there.”
“He has been oddly shrewd since leaving the dungeons,” Heather replied, growing more curious.Whyhad Brandon been so shrewd? In truth, now that she thought about it in greaterdetail, he had not behaved the way someone who had just lost a dear friend should have done while they were in the dungeons. There had been no shouting, no demand for a duel, no release of rage. Instead, Brandon had been strangely calm, peppered with moments of pensiveness.
Jemima urged them back into a walk. “Perhaps, you need to make him talk to you, then. I imagine he doesn’t want to upset you more, but there’s no reason anyone should be keeping secrets from you where your brother is concerned.”
“I will,” Heather replied decisively. “I will find him when our walk is done, and I will demand to know all that he knows. Although, make no mistake, I trust in my father’s judgment. He was there, too, after all.”
