Sophia and her escort left early the next morning for MacPherson Castle, with a promise to visit again soon. Helena watched her ride through the gates with tears in her eyes, holding Mags close and stroking his soft fur for comfort. Her heart longed for her aunt to stay.
Alexander watched her face fall as she watched them go and decided she needed a distraction. He took the cat from her arms and placed him on the ground at their feet, took her hand, and dragged her toward the garden.
“Come on, let’s go for a walk. It’s a beautiful day, let’s enjoy it.”
She followed begrudgingly, still sulking at the stinging absence of her kin. He didn’t yield though, opening the garden gate and leading her through with an arm around her waist. The cat trotted past them with his tail high in the air.
“See that birch tree?” He leaned into her while pointing at the tree in question. “Michael and I used to climb up there to escape Alice when she was little. She couldnae climb it, so we would sit up there, and she would throw things at us and tell us how mean we were until she’d start cryin’. Then, our maither would come out and yell at us to get down and stop torturin’ her.”
Helena snorted, picturing the scene. Her sorrow was forgotten momentarily.
“That explains why ye can climb trees so quickly like a mountain goat.” She winked at him, thinking back to the day in the forest. “Did ye ever fall?”
His eyes gleamed as he nodded. “Och aye. Eventually, Alice’s aim got better, and the items she threw at us got larger and heavier. One day, she threw a rock at me and hit me square in the head. Knocked me right off the tree. I tried to grab Michael’s foot for balance and ended up takin’ him down with me. We stopped hidin’ in trees after that and started runnin’ from her.”
As they continued to stroll through the garden, he pointed to this spot and then that spot and recounted childhood memories, painting a picture of a happy childhood filled with laughter and joy.
So starkly different from her own.
“I can picture it, the three of ye as children. Ye must have driven yer poor maither to tears at times.”
“Och, we did, on several occasions. But never intentionally, and we always felt bad afterward. We would go to the meadow and pick wildflowers and make wreaths for her to apologize for bein’ such wicked children.”
He recognized the far-off look in her eyes when she was quiet for a long moment—she was lost in her memories.
“What was yer childhood like? Did ye and yer kin play in the gardens? Torment the servants? I imagine there were some wild times in MacPherson Castle as well.”
“There were some. Nae as many as the ones ye just recounted, though. Faither always expected his children to be prim and proper—we werenae allowed to run wild as ye were. Occasionally, though, Broderic and Ian would go to the village or would escape to the coast for the day and would take me with them. To escape the confines of the castle. We were close, the three of us, always. But I always felt… left behind, I guess.”
“Ye so rarely talk about yer family, lass. I’m sorry if I’ve dredged up sad memories once again. I meant to get yer mind off the sadness.”
Alexander pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace. He stroked his fingers through her long hair, down her back, his lips trailing over her shoulder and up her neck. Her skin was warm and flushed from his touch, and he enjoyed hearing her gasps as his hands slid over her curves.
She quivered when his hand found her thigh, but she pulled away, composing herself.
“They’re nae all sad. I just miss them. All of them. And I… cannae fully trust the man who killed them.” She pulled away from him enough to look up into his face.
“Lass, I promise ye. I swear on me life that I didnae kill Broderic or Ian.” He cupped her face in his hands, looking deep into her eyes, praying she would see the truth of his words.
“P-Please… just stop…”
“I dinnae have all the answers for ye. I wish I did. I’ve yet to figure out who killed them, but it wasnae me nor me men. I promise someway, somehow, I will prove it to ye one day.”
She melted against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her again, listening as he recounted the last night he saw her brother and cousin.
“We met in Glencoe, as we had a dozen times before. For months, we had spent days on end tryin’ to find some way to end this war. Yer faither had refused every one of me requests to meet for a truce. Nay matter how Broderic presented it to him, his answer was always nay.” He sighed, resting his chin on her head for a moment. “That night, we drank and laughed as friends do—nothing remarkable or out of the ordinary. Ian left with a lass he fancied, Broderic and I talked into the wee hours of the morning and then parted ways. That was the last time I saw either of them.”
The sorrow in his voice tore at her heart. She had been so certain that Alexander was responsible for her kin’s death. But now, after listening to his side of the story, she was unsure if she still believed that.
Maybe he is innocent.Could it be? What else could I be wrong about?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Me Laird! Me Laird!” Frync came running into the garden, interrupting their moment, his face pale with worry. “It’s Laird MacPherson, Me Laird! He’s here!”
“What?! Me faither? Me faither ishere?” Helena’s tone suddenly matched his panic, and she looked to Alexander for guidance.
He was silent for a long moment, brooding over the sudden turn in events.
