Chapter Twenty-Five
KATE CLOSED THE DOOR behind her and then sank down it. Graham and Jamie appeared over her an instant later.
“Come away,” Graham urged gently while Jamie stared at the door, anguished by the sounds coming from inside, a slightly bloodstained bandage wrapped around his flaxen head. “All will be well with them.”
Kate buried her face in her hands and wept softly. “If my grandfather was not already dead, I vow I would kill him myself.”
Graham knelt beside her and then helped her to her feet. “Ye look like ye could use a warm cup of mead.” He called over his shoulder as he led her away. “Come, Jamie, leave Maggie to her brother.”
“I’ll stay,” Jamie called back, still staring at the door.
Graham brought Kate to the solar rather than to the great hall, since many of the men would be settling down for the eve. The only drink in the solar was whiskey, so Graham warmed it by the hearth fire and poured her a cup. Cool night air chilled the room. He pulled two oversized chairs closer to the fire and covered her shoulders with a blanket.
Kate folded her legs under her and sipped her brew. When she blanched, Graham laughed and warned her to go easy, lest she singe her insides.
“It does burn going down, doesn’t it?”
“’Tis another of old Gillis’s concoctions,” he told her, settling into the chair opposite her. “’Twill warm ye fer certain.”
She took another sip, slower this time, and stared into the flames. “Will it help me forget what my grandfather did to them? I do not blame Callum if he killed him.”
“Callum did not kill him,” Graham assured her. “If he had, mayhap he would have been satisfied.”
Kate nodded, then looked at him beneath the veil of her lashes, too ashamed to look at him directly. “Did my father know of this?”
“I don’t know.”
Kate drank more of her brew and thought about everything. After a few moments, she spoke again. “Callum thinks he is a monster in Maggie’s eyes. But she is not afraid of him, Graham. She’s afraid for him. She wants him to stop fighting his war.”
The commander swallowed a mouthful of whiskey, then closed his eyes as fire lanced through him. “I am afraid fer him, too,” he admitted and leaned back in his chair. “He’s determined to kill yer uncle. When he does, I fear the full power of the realm will come down upon him. Argyll knows it, as well, and taunts Callum with his cruelties against MacGregor women.”
Kate shivered beneath her blanket. She knew her uncle was depraved. “He never came for us when we were children, though he promised to. He left us for the servants and my father’s guardsmen to raise. As I grew older, he paid more attention to me than to Robert. I found out why last winter when he tried to kiss me.”
Graham leaned forward in his chair and set his flagon on the floor. His gaze on Kate was unblinking, his voice low with controlled anger. “Does Robert know?”
“I never told him,” Kate said. “I hope Duncan never finds us,” she added into her cup.
“Us?”
When she looked at him, Graham was watching her with a mixture of concern and admiration sparking his gaze.
“’Tis a dangerous thing to align yerself with us, Kate.” Graham’s expression softened when she hiccupped. “Feeling better, are ye?”
She nodded and focused her attention on him. With the firelight softening his beguiling features and pouty mouth, he looked more angelic than even his younger brother. “I’m glad to see Jamie has recovered.”
“Aye. ’Twas a minor wound. He fell from the rafters saving Maggie’s cat.”
“Who taught him such chivalry?” Kate smiled at Graham and cuddled deeper into her blanket.
The commander poured her more brew, his roguish grin proving to Kate it was not him who taught his brother such noble ideals. “Jamie is young.”
“He cares so for Maggie.”
“Then he is foolish, as well.”
Kate regarded him while he smiled into his cup, his dimples twinkling in the flickering light. She was quite fond of Graham. From the moment they met he had treated her kindly. Though he was fiercely devoted to Callum, he had never shown her contempt because of her name. He was kind and terribly charming. With that halo of curls falling carelessly over eyes of deep emerald, and a sinful smile that could melt the heart of the most stoic matron at twenty paces, it was not surprising that almost every woman in Camlochlin sought his attention.
“Love is not foolish, Commander.”
