Padraig wanders like Logan, but he still needs his clan sometimes.
Chapter Ten
Alex stands up to a sheriff for Padraig…
Jake said, “A lass was found beaten in the forest. She had a piece of Grant plaid in her hand, and the only word she uttered was your name, Padraig.”
“I have not seen any woman but those who live here since I left Black Isle a sennight ago.”
“It happened in the early eve. A crofter found her while the blood still ran from her cuts. It had to have happened around then.”
Padraig said, “I was here at midnight. In my bed sleeping.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed.
Jake said, “We believe you.” He turned to the sheriff and his minions. “He was here all night—and never left. We ate the evening meal together, chatted over by the fire for several hours before we both took our beds. It could not be him. I will vouch for him. Certainly you must find the man who hurt the lass, but Padraig did not do it. We’ll ask her when she recovers.”
“If she recovers,” the sheriff said. “I or one of my men will return to speak with her. We will talk with Padraig again, as well.”
Padraig’s father stepped forward. “Need I bring up some important points you’re missing, Sheriff? Anyone could find a piece of Grant plaid and use it. We have over a thousand warriors who wear our plaid and could catch it on a branch anywhere when out hunting. And anyone who had abused a lassthat much would have marks on their hands. My son’s hands show no cuts, swellings, or any other sign of having done such violence.”
The sheriff stepped closer to Padraig. He ran his eye over Padraig carefully, and then looked to his hands, and Padraig held them up so the man could see them better in the flickering torchlight. “You do have a point. I see only old callouses that every warrior bears, and she was definitely beaten, not cut.”
“My son is innocent.” His father crossed his arms as if daring the sheriff to question him further.
The sheriff brought his gaze up to Padraig’s, who decided it was time for him to speak up for himself. “I am a member of Clan Grant. I do not abuse women. Why would you think I would do such a thing?”
“Sheriff, you know our reputation. If one of my warriors treated a woman like that, I’d handle him before you ever got here,” Uncle Alex said, crossing his arms.
“And I would hold him for you, Alex.” His father moved next to Padraig and clasped his shoulder. “My son would be the first to come to a lass’s defense.”
Jake held his arm out toward the door. “Take your leave, Sheriff. Your inquisition is over.”
The man glared at Jake but then said, “For now, but we will return.” He turned to Uncle Alex and said, “My apologies for awakening you all in the middle of the night. Even without the evidence about the culprit, we would have come, since this is where the best healers are found.”
Uncle Alex showed no emotion, as usual, and said, “You’ve said what you must, now leave, Sheriff.”
While the sheriffs were capable of scaring nearly anyone with their mere presence, Alexander Grant could not be so easily intimidated, and the sheriff held considerable respect for the old laird. Alex had always commanded the largest army of warriorsin all the land and would send however many men the king needed.
No sheriff wished to anger the king.
Jake and Jamie escorted the three men out, but once they were out of the keep, the true inquisition started. His father turned to face him, his expression serious. “See the trouble you could have been in, leaving on your own? If Ruari hadn’t made you return, you could still be out there. But why would she use your name, Padraig?”
Padraig had a sick feeling roiling inside his gut. This had been Donald’s plan. “I’d like to see the lass to see if I recognize her.” He had the worst fear that it could be Gisela or someone else from Clan Matheson. “’Tis not Gisela Matheson, is it?”
“Nay, I recall her from Brigid’s wedding,” Uncle Alex said. “’Tis not that lass. This lass is flame haired.”
Padraig let out a loud sigh. “Still, I would like to see her.”
“Come with me,” his father said. “Your mother and Gracie are treating her.” His sire knocked on the healing chamber door.
His mother opened it and motioned them inside. “She’s spoken a bit more. She was given a message for Padraig. That’s why she spoke his name. The man who attacked her said Padraig is his next target. She doesn’t know who he was. He wore no plaid, he was verra large, and he said that you’re to stay away from Black Isle. And he’s coming to find you.”
Padraig made his way over to the lass in the bed. One of her eyes was swollen, but the other caught his gaze. She flinched at first, but then calmed. “Who are you?” she asked.
“I am Padraig Grant, and you have my deepest apology if you were beaten because of me. It was not of my doing.” His eyes traveled over her, and she looked much like Dagga had when she’d been found. He recognized Donald’s handiwork. One swollen eye, a bruise blooming on her cheek, and smaller cutsand scrapes everywhere he could see skin. He didn’t wish to see any more.
“’Tis not your fault, but I don’t understand why he doesn’t beat you instead of me.” She winced at the pain of her cut lip, soothing it with her tongue.
