“Tea is fine, Williams. Thank you,” she said stiffly. “And I may punch you on principle.”
“My lady?” the butler squeaked.
“Not you, Williams, of course. Him.” She jabbed a finger in Callum’s direction, not looking at him as she turned another page in the stack she’d selected.
“Ah. Very good, then.”
Once the butler had left, she did glance up. Across the desk Callum gazed at her, his two-colored eyes at once so similar to and so different from Ian’s. She’d never spoken to her husband as she just had to him, but then she’d never bothered to mince words with Callum—just as he never had with her. Of course no one had ever aggravated her as much as Callum had, either. Evidently some things didn’t change, after all. “What is it?”
“Ye ken what’s at stake now, who wants what from ye. And ye can make yer moves accordingly. That makes ye a queen. Nae a pawn.”
“Is that so? And what would you have to give up if you wished to marry, Lord Geiry?”
“Revenge,” he said coolly, and returned to the ledger he’d pulled from the pile.
After that, she couldn’t concentrate. He knew he was likely to die because of this pursuit of his. They’d both spoken about it. But earlier when they’d jested about marriage, for him it had been nothing but that. A jest. Because he wanted revenge, and nothing else mattered as much to him. Why was it worth so much? Rebecca studied him as he carefully went through each page, looking for clues of Dunncraigh’s duplicity. Because he still blamed himself, she realized. It had to be that. Nothing else made sense.
Perhaps, though, he hadn’t considered every possibility before him. “Why didn’t you simply march off the ship and shoot Dunncraigh between the eyes?” she asked, setting aside the part of the stack she’d perused.
She felt his gaze on the top of her head. “I wanted to,” he returned. “I didnae know who else might be involved.”
“Meaning me,” she said, glancing up at him.
“Aye.”
“But now you know I had nothing to do with it.”
“Aye.” He paused. “Ye’re aiming at someaught. Tell me what it is, Rebecca.”
He actually wanted her opinion, her thoughts. If a man had ever asked her such a question before, she couldn’t recall it. Another way in which he differed from his older brother. “I’ve been thinking,” she said, feeling out a path for her words as she spoke. “I know you said you’d look for evidence that could see him arrested and prosecuted, and that you don’t like that idea.”
“Nae, I dunnae like it,” he agreed readily.
“Yes. And your way, killing him and Donnach,wouldget you your revenge. Our revenge. But you know it wouldn’t end there. You would be immediately arrested, or killed in return.”
“I ken. But ye and Mags would be safe.”
“Are you certain of that? At the least we would have to move to London, because we’re outsiders enough here as it is. I don’t knowanyonethere. What if—”
“Ye decided to marry again?” he finished for her. “Ye’re worried ye’d nae know whom to trust.”
“Of course I wouldn’t know whom to trust. And if I don’t remarry, then Margaret would become the target of fortune hunters the moment she came of age, because she’ll inherit after me.”
“And in this imaginary land, how do ye reckon me nae killing the Maxwell will alter yer circumstances?”
At least he still listened. “I told you what happened with the Duke of Lattimer. He’s not the only one who’s bested Dunncraigh over the past year or two. The world grows more modern. A clan chief who looks after his own interests before those of his clan finds that his people have elsewhere to go, other, more sympathetic ears to listen and to help.”
“Ye want me to join forces with the lordlings who dared to snarl at His Grace? I willnae. Snarling at him or making him pay a fine is nae stopping him. This is my fight. My way.”
“Of course it is.” Though an outside opinion or two might prove very helpful, she hadn’t expected that would interest him. This was far too personal for that. “What I’m trying to say is that if he condemns himself, shows his true colors and in so doing shames himself in full view of clan Maxwell, then haven’t you won? The legal approach can work. It will work. But I want everyone else to know what a… a damned rat he is.”
Callum ran his fingers through his dark hair. Pushing to his feet, his steaming cup of tea in one hand, he walked to the nearest window. “Ye’re suggesting I trade killing him for embarrassing him? They dunnae sound like equal punishments to me.”
Rebecca took a breath and held it, sending up a silent prayer at the same time. “Then go now and kill him. End this searching-for-clues nonsense, and do what you came here to do.”
The teacup shattered in his hand, china and hot liquid splashing over his hand and to the floor. Evidently he’d been able to stifle his old volatility, but not extinguish it completely. “I think about it,” he muttered, not moving. “Walking straight up to him and gutting thebastard. Every time he strolls up to me and offers his sympathies or to buy me out, he has no idea how close he is to dying. And I havenae stopped myself because I was afraid, or because I lost my will.”
“Then why?”
