“Why? He hasnae had aught to do with the poor lass since her da and her brother were killed.”
“Ah, now there is an odd thing. He claims he has often written to her asking her to come to him at Glascreag.” There was only a moment’s look of confusion on the woman’s face before fury hardened her pleasant features. “Now if ye would be so kind as to turn your back for a wee moment so I can get out of this bath, dry myself, and put some clothes on, we can have ourselves a fine long talk about all of this.”
By the time Artan was dressed, it was obvious by the tapping of her foot that Old Meg was losing all patience. He quickly poured them each a goblet of wine and handed her one. In between sips of the hearty wine, he told Old Meg all of his suspicions, the attacks that had been made on him, and what had happened at the burn. However, he did not tell her about the kisses and the bargain Angus had offered him. Such things had nothing to do with the trouble facing Cecily now, and he believed they should remain private, strictly between him and Cecily. The faint hint of suspicion in her dark eyes told him she knew he held something back, but to his great relief, she did not press him for more.
“It seems they dinnae want any emissary of Angus’s here,” Old Meg murmured. “They have done their best to see that old Angus has naught to do with the child. Ye are right to think there is something they are hiding. I have always thought so. I have ne’er believed Cecily’s father would leave her with naught. He was the type of mon to leave verra careful instructions and to make sure none of his family were left at the mercy of others. Nay, and he ne’er liked or trusted Anabel and Edmund either. So what do ye plan to do?”
“Find out their secrets.”
“But they mean to wed her to that worm, and e’en ye think he has had his hand in this somehow.”
Artan nodded. “And Cecily willnae be marrying him.”
“How can ye stop it? Ye are but one mon.”
“If I have to, I will bind and gag the lass and take her to Glascreag flung o’er my saddle.”
Old Meg studied him intently for a moment, then nodded. “If that is what is needed to save her, I stand ready to help ye.”
Artan smiled and touched his goblet to hers in a silent toast, welcoming his new ally.
Chapter 6
“That mon simply willnae leave!”
Artan halted at the sound of Anabel’s shrill voice coming out of the solar through the slightly open door. After four days of putting himself firmly at Cecily’s side and doing his meager best to woo her, as well as glean as much information about her guardians as possible, it appeared that he might have finally gotten lucky. Silently inching closer to the door of the solar, he listened carefully, hoping Anabel would reveal some of the secrets he knew she clung to. Careful not to cast his shadow across the slight opening of the door, he waited for her obvious anger to make her careless.
“I have tried to get him to leave, Anabel.”
Recognizing Sir Fergus’s voice, Artan was not really surprised. He had suspected that the man was part of whatever scheme was brewing at Dunburn.
“It has only been four days, Anabel,” said Sir Edmund. “Ye are too impatient.”
“The mon is asking too many questions, Edmund,” she snapped.
“And getting no answers.”
“For now, but I dinnae think he is the stupid brute he would like us to think he is.”
“Nay? He is a Highlander, is he not?” drawled Sir Fergus.
Artan hoped he would have the chance to grind Sir Fergus’s face into the mud before he left Dunburn with Cecily. In truth, it was going to please him a great deal to rob the man of his bride.
“That Highlander appears to have the wit to escape all of your attempts to hobble him,” murmured Sir Edmund. “How many men did ye send the last time ye tried to beat him into fleeing?”
After a small, tense silence, Sir Fergus muttered, “Six.”
“And your fool men nearly killed Cecily when they tried to put an arrow through the mon.”
“They didnae see the lass until too late and stopped the attack the moment they recognized her.”
“Weel, they had better begin to take more care. She is nay use to us dead, at least nay until she has married you.”
“I understand that weel enough. Ye dinnae need to fret o’er losing your fine, comfortable life. The lass will marry me, her lands and coin will soon be safe in my grasp, and ye will gain firm hold on Dunburn and much more.”
“I dinnae see why ye must lay claim to so much,” grumbled Anabel.
“I am nay the one with blood on my hands. And without me ye can ne’er truly lay claim to any of it, can ye? Ye are naught but the stewards of Cecily’s fortune. When she passed her twenty-first saint’s day ye were nay longer e’en that. My marriage to Cecily and the contract we have signed finally makes at least part of it all legally yours.”
