‘Unless you killed him by your own hand and watched the light die from his eyes, it can, most certainly, be. Drayton is back, more powerful and vengeful than ever, and he is taking all that is yours. I have seen him.’
‘When?’
‘But a few days ago. It seems he outwitted you.’
Colm McEwen rubbed his stubbled chin. ‘Are you in earnest, or is this some trick?’
‘No. It is true, and I have seen Drayton up close, far too close, in fact. He is in Inverness.’
‘So he knew I was on to him.’ As usual, her father recovered quickly from bad news.
‘Aye,’ said Maren. ‘Why were you so bent on killing Drayton? Was he not your right-hand man?’
‘Drayton liked to dip his hand in the pot too much. A penny for the master and a pound for himself. I realised he was cheating me, and anyone who does that pays the ultimate price. Given the chance, I would have sliced his tongue from its roots and then slit his throat.’
‘He would have known how relentless you can be in hunting your enemies.’
‘Aye. He would. But it vexes me who would have told him I was about to kill him. Was it you, daughter?’
‘No. I suspect it might have been Sawney.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘That dunderhead. He had not the courage to be a turncoat.’
‘It seems he did. Was he not the one who found the corpse and said Drayton had been set upon by redcoats? His lie came back to bite him, though. Drayton killed him a few weeks ago. He left Sawney’s body to lie in the woods, missing its tongue, so that he could terrify the glens around Inverness and make everyone think the Baron is back.’
Colm McEwen smiled at that.
‘How you preen at your notoriety, Father,’ said Maren, temper flaring.
‘The name Baron is not undeserved. My family were grand enough once.’
‘Well, no matter your past glories. What are you going to do about Drayton?’
‘Nothing. He is there, and I am here. That rat would not dare come sniffing around Durness. This is a McEwen stronghold, and I would snuff him out like a candle.’
‘Yet you seem very alone here, almost defenceless. Have your men deserted you as you weaken?’ Maren took a perverse pleasure in sliding a knife into his pride. Perhaps she was her father’s daughter, after all.
‘Some have left, but not all,’ said her father. ‘I have men who are still loyal to me.’
‘Frightened of you, more like.’
‘Fear is everything. It is power of the most potent kind. It drives us in all that we do. I can keep the hardest bastard in line with but a word, but you must maintain the illusion. I sent some fools away as they were tiresome, whining brats and of little use to me.’
‘And now you are weak and of no use to me.’
His lip curled into a snarl. ‘My, what a heartless little bitch you turned out to be.’
‘I am what you made me.’ Maren looked out the window at the wind-scoured hills and struggled not to succumb to hopelessness. ‘So, you are slowly suffocating, and the Devil finally gets his dues, Father.’
‘If you like. But he has granted me one last look at you, lass. And I am glad of it.’
‘Do not get sentimental, old man. I am not here to ease your heart, forgive or warn you of danger.’
‘No, you want something, don’t you?’
‘I want you to get rid of Drayton. Will you end him before he ends you?’
‘Or claims you back as his bride? That is what you fear, isn’t it. Or maybe he will do worse to you than me, eh?’
