Bryce sighed heavily. ‘Because it is time we were honest with each other.’
Maren bit her lip and took a deep breath. ‘He was a laird of sorts, almost high born, with a once proud lineage, alright.’
Bryce stepped back with an incredulous look on his face.
‘Is that so hard to believe?’ she cried.
‘Can I believe anything that comes out of your mouth?’ said Bryce, and the words were arrows straight to Maren’s heart.
‘Well, it is the truth, and see how I have fallen from grace to become nought but a laird’s plaything. Remember you once asked me why I did not fall prey to some evil, being alone and friendless, and I told you I met with the kindness of strangers instead. Ezra and Myrna Cameron, they were called. They had a farm up at Hawich – Longbrook Farm. My father cast me out, and I was taken in by that family as one of their own. They were the best of folk, so much better than my own family. I soon found out that they were Jacobite sympathisers, but that was nought to me then.’
‘But it is now,’ said Bryce.
‘Ezra had fought at the Battle of the Boyne, and his old sympathies would not allow him to bend the knee to the English union. So he and his wife spied on the redcoats at Fort George, sending messages south, to Balloch, and to a distant relation – a Captain Lawson, who then carried them to France. They were but little cogs in a bigger wheel, being used by rich aristocrats who were a world away from danger in France. ‘Tis easy for high folk to play at being rebels when their necks are not at risk of being stretched.’
‘What kind of secrets did you pass on?’
‘Not big ones, just enough to appease those demanding information.’
‘Where are the Camerons now?’
‘Dead, by English hands. And I will speak no more of it.’
Slaughtered like lambs, more like. Even now, Maren could see the ash falling like snow from the burning farm buildings. She tried to expel the memory of scarlet everywhere – in the coats of the soldiers and the bloodstains on the broken bodies of the Camerons.
‘Maren.’ Bryce’s voice intruded, snapping her out of her bleak thoughts. ‘I can see on your face that you have suffered, and I am sorry for it. And as to treachery, I share your hatred of the English rule. I can tell you anything you need to know, but I suspect there is something else at work here, something darker. Do I know you at all, woman? Have you been using me all along? Do you have my heart on a spike for your own amusement?’
‘No, I swear I do not,’ she said, her throat thick with fear.
‘Then tell me everything, here, now, or we cannot go on together.’
‘Are you saying you would cast me out?’ said Maren. Her voice sounded small and weak to her ears, and that would not do. Perhaps it was better this way – an angry parting so that Bryce could be safe from Drayton. If she told him, he might go after that devil and put himself in harm’s way.
Bryce raked his hand through his hair. Then, to her great surprise, he pulled her in and kissed her. ‘I can’t cast you out,’ he groaned. His mouth was not tender or gentle. It was hard and punishing as if he could force her secret out of her with his kiss. Maren gave back in equal measure, still angry at his betrayal. They tottered at the edge of desire, and Bryce forced her back to the bed, his hands roaming, her fingers clutching and hurting. He would take her now, and it might take the edge off his anger and let her keep his affection. But later, the secrets would fester and grow, and she would be right back where she started.
‘No, Bryce,’ she said, pushing him off with all her strength. ‘You will use me no longer.’
He sighed heavily. ‘Is it him, that other man, Lawson, who stands between us? Do you burrow for secrets for him?’
‘No. Don’t. My association with that man is at an end. And as I said, I thought you were playing me false, so I searched for proof. And I have found it. Will you release me from my indenture so that I can go from here?’ Tears stung the back of Maren’s eyes, but she blinked them away.
Bryce stood up, his hands were fists at his side, his face rock hard as he said, ‘No. You will go when I say you can and not before.’
‘I can go whenever I please.’
‘Aye, but I can have the law hunt you down, Maren. So you cannot run, and you will stay until I have answers.’
‘Bryce, please let me go,’ she sobbed. How strange that she had always been able to cry at will to get what she wanted, but now her tears were real, and they were a flood that could not be stopped. ‘I can’t stay, and I cannot say why. Please. ‘Tis better this way.’
Bryce grabbed hold of her arms and shook her. ‘Better for who? Not me, when I am torn and broken once you are gone. I care for you, Maren. God save me, I do, with all my heart. One year of your life, and then freedom. But run before then, and I will enforce this indenture, and you will spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder as a fugitive of justice.’
‘You…you cannot.’
‘I must, because I do not care how much you wound me as long as I am with you, Maren.’
‘But I am nothing - a common peasant in your eyes.’
He gazed down, his blue eyes stricken with frustration and longing. ‘There is nothing common about you, lass.’
