Instead he headed for MacCreath House’s small garden, blooming with summer roses, Scottish primroses, and the deep red royal helleborine. Some of the flowers seemed almost exotic now; he’d grown more accustomed to seeing the larkspur and columbine and Virginia bluebells in the hills of Kentucky. He squatted down, running his hand through a patch of lavender and breathing in the scent.
“I know this frustrates you,” Rebecca said from the pathway.
Still on his haunches, he turned his head to look over at her. “Nae. Ye had the right of it, Becca. Justice, and nae vengeance. Ian would approve of that. I reckon yer da’ would, as well.”
She walked over to kneel beside him, straightening her pretty blue and gray muslim about her. “They would,” she agreed. “They would be surprised, and proud of you. Especially Ian.”
Sinking onto his backside next to her, he reached out for her fingers. “After this is over with, I want ye to know I mean to ask ye again to marry me,” he said, hoping he wasn’t tempting fate by planning for something beyond stopping Dunncraigh. “I made a disgraceful, thoughtless plan for my life one evening, and had it pulled out from under me because of my own stupidity. I spent the next ten years making certain I didnae ever repeat my mistakes. I love ye, Rebecca. There’s a hole in my heart that’s only filled when I’m around ye. I want ye to know that.”
She twined her fingers with his. “I thought my entire book had been written,” she said quietly, leaning her shoulder against his. “You were an early chapter of regret and disappointment and questions.” Rebecca kissed the frown on his brow. “Now I think perhaps you were the prologue, and my next set of chapters is just beginning.” This time she kissed his mouth, so softly it made him ache.
“I hope I’m in all the rest of the chapters,” he commented, putting his arms around her and pulling her onto his lap.
“So do I. You… excite me, Callum. I was content before, but you excite me and arouse me and fill me with joy. I loveyou. I wantyouto know that.”
If she’d asked him at that moment, he would have agreed to take her and Margaret away with him to Kentucky—or anywhere else she wanted to go. If she asked, he would turn his back on everything Dunncraigh and Stapp had done, whatever the cost to his soul. He had… everything, the most improbable occurrence in the world considering he’d never expected any such thing.
“I’m trying to earn that honor, Becca,” he murmured, wishing he could sit there in the garden and gaze at her forever.
“You did,” she returned, lowering her head to his shoulder. “You have.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Ye cannae expect me to believe that this ledger fell from the sky, m’laird,” the right honorable Liam MacMurchie of clan MacDonald argued, gesturing at Dunncraigh’s accounts ledger.
“When someaught that useful arrives on a man’s doorstep, Yer Honor,” Callum returned, keeping a hard hold on his temper, “a man would be a fool to ignore it.”
Light brown eyes continued to eye him suspiciously, though the straight fringes of gray hair peeking from beneath the white, curling wig on the man’s head rendered him a tad ridiculous rather than awe-inspiring, at least as far as Callum was concerned. “And how would ye answer that question under oath, Laird Geiry?”
“That I found it on my doorstep,” Callum stated. He’d put it there and picked it up himself to be certain he wouldn’t be lying. As for where it had been before that, he doubted Dunncraigh would press the issue. Otherwise Callum would be obligated to explain that previous to his front step he’d found Ian MacCreath’s and George Sanderson’s private ledger and journal, respectively, hidden in His Grace’s bedchamber.
Silence. “Very well, then.” The judge let out a hard sigh. “Give me what ye have, and I’ll present it to my fellows within the next fortnight. I’ll nae send out a writ for an arrest against a duke without more voices than my own saying it’s to be done.” He pointed at the top of his head. “I reckon I’m fond of wearing this.”
“Nae.”
MacMurchie blinked. “I beg yer pardon?”
Evidently the judge wasn’t accustomed to anyone arguing with him. “Ye’ll nae remove those items from this house, and I’ll nae have ye showing what we found to yer cronies. Ye either see what we see in these pages, or ye dunnae. And if ye dunnae, then I reckon ye’re already in Dunncraigh’s pocket.”
The judge’s color deepened to crimson across his cheeks and nose. “I didnae travel across town to be insulted, m’laird.”
“Then dunnae insultme.My brother is dead, Lady Geiry’s father is dead, and someone shot at me last week. Every moment Dunncraigh and Stapp are left to roam about, Rebecca faces danger. That’s nae acceptable.”
Even if they hadn’t been lovers he would have spent every minute of the past nights in her company, just to be certain Stapp didn’t attempt a kidnapping and forced marriage, after all. They couldn’t continue like this, where he needed to protect her perfectly and Dunncraigh only needed one lucky moment to turn all this to disaster. The odds didn’t favor him, and they grew worse with each passing day.
“I do ken what yer concerns are, Lord Geiry. But ye have to understand that I, too, have a reputation, and that I only set eyes on this conspiracy two hours ago. I need more time.”
He did understand that, damn it all. “Take the notes we all wrote out, then. They summarize what we found.If ye need the exact words or figures, ye can call here and look at them.” He looked from the judge to the two accountants to Rebecca. “Two days, Yer Honor. I’ll give ye two days.”
Every bone and muscle and sinew screamed at him that Dunncraigh would be using every minute of that time to counter his moves. The duke had known for better than a day now that the stolen things and his own ledgers and contracts were missing. He wasn’t a stupid man. Since Callum hadn’t come for him, he would reckon that the law would be doing so.
Being civilized was a fucking nuisance. But the prize it carried with it happened to appeal to him more than what he gained from defying it, so he would wait. For a very short time. Evidently reading the barely restrained fury in Callum’s gaze, Liam MacMurchie took a step backward, then nodded. “Two days. Under the circumstances, I agree. I ken this isnae an easy thing, m’laird, Lady Geiry. It makes me wish I’d nae set eyes on young Dennis, myself.” He sent a sideways glare at his son-in-law’s brother.
Callum nodded. “Thank ye. I sent for some of my men, and I mean to have three of them keeping an eye on ye and yer home for the next two days.” He faced Michael Crosby and Dennis Kimes. “The two of ye, as well. I’m adding to the lads already watching over ye.”
Dennis, at least, looked relieved. “Thank ye. I’ve seen naught yet, but I sleep a wee bit better at night knowing they’re about.”
“And send off those letters I wrote as soon as ye leave here. They should arrive with Dunncraigh’s chieftains about the same time the duke finds himself in irons.” That part was a gamble, but with the information they’d included about where the clans’ tithes were going, even the most loyal of them wouldn’t be happy. With any luckthe clan Maxwell chieftains would withdraw all support from their chief and leave him to the courts without the might of the clan at his back. And with more luck no Maxwell clansman would be motivated to stabhimin the back to avenge his clan chief. A letter to the Duke of Lattimer would leave with Dennis as well, under the old banner of enemies of enemies being friends. Hopefully.
