But Gilleonan didn’t need to know any of that. Lachlan suggested, “Since you dinna appear to be under suspicion wi’ me—at least no’ yet, see what you can find out.”
“Aye, I’ll fetch Ranald and we’ll nose about the stables till we have the whole of it. ’Tis probably no more’n some guest wanderin’ off in the dark wi’ the wrong horse, and he hasna realized it yet.”
“Aye, no doubt.”
But Lachlan didn’t really think so. St. James wouldn’t go berserk over something like that. He’d require something in the way of proof, but for the life of him, Lachlan couldn’t imagine what that might be.
Gilleonan had turned back toward the door, but stopped to suggest, “Ye ought tae carry the lass tae her room so ye can get some rest yerself.”
“I’m in no condition tae be doing that.”
“I could—”
“Nay,” Lachlan cut in a bit too quickly. “She’s no’ bothering me.”
Gilleonan raised a brow at that, but when he got no further response, he shrugged and left. Lachlan sighed as the door closed again.
Kimberly might not be bothering him in the sense he had implied, but with her soft body pressed against his side she was definitely bothering him in another sense. And as miserable as he felt, with aches noticeable in just about every part of his body, he found it rather incredible that he could want her right now, and want her badly. Particularly when he couldn’t do a damn thing about it at the moment, even if she were awake and agreeable.
He should have let his cousin take her out of there, or at least, he ought to nudge her awake long enough to get her moving back to her own room. But he was loath to let go of her, even to relieve the state she had put him in. What was one more discomfort, after all, when he had so many? And besides, helikedhaving her right where she was.
So he turned his mind to other thoughts, and foremost in those thoughts was the Duke of Wrothston and the beating he’d received at his hands.
The man might have felt justified, for whatever mistaken reason, to administer such a thorough trouncing. That Lachlan hadn’t been sober enough to protect himself even a little was a moot point.
Actually, one lucky punch in the beginning that had been intended for his eye, but had slammed into his forehead instead when Lachlan attempted to duck, had pretty much decided the outcome. From then on Lachlan was too dazed to even know he was being pounded on. But he would wager the beating wouldn’t have been quite so vicious if St. James didn’t feel he had past grudges to settle as well.
He’d have to wait and see what the duke had to say for himself. On the one hand, he felt St. James was justified in getting a few licks in, whether he knew it or not, and not for any past grudge, or this current thing, but because of Megan. It was permissible to love another man’s wife as long as you did so from afar, no one else knew about it, and there was no active pursuit involved. But he’d lost his head a wee bit when he’d found the bonny Megan again. He’d tried to lure the man’s wife away from him, and at the moment he wasn’t feeling too proud about that.
On the other hand, he’d already taken a beating for that past grudge, and wasn’t willing to accept another for it. Nor was he willing to take the blame and beating for something he didn’t do. Steal some of the primest stock in England that would be so easy to find simply because they were such outstanding specimens? He’d have to be utterly crazy.
But he wasn’t going to react, one way or another, until he’d heard all the facts. So all he could do now was wait and see what St. James had to say for himself.
27
“Well, shall we see what the blackguard has to say for himself?” Devlin said.
Beside him, Megan frowned, and not for the first time that day. “I still don’t think you’ve calmed down enough. This could wait until morning, after you’ve had a chance to sleep on it.”
Devlin shook his head emphatically. “You’ve held me off the entire day, and even managed to get me to sit through a bloody uncomfortable dinner, with Lady Kimberly glowering at me the whole while, though I can’t imagine why she should find fault with me.”
Megan restrained the urge to snort, just. “Perhaps because she thinks you’ve been a bit unfair in your dealing with the Highlander thus far? He really wasn’t in any condition to face your wrath this morning. Actually, with you as angry as you were, I don’t think perfect health would have helped the Scot a’tall, though Kimberly might think otherwise.”
That merely produced another glower. “Not another minute will this be delayed.”
That said, he gave his wife no further opportunity for protest. He opened the door and marched into the Scot’s room. She followed on his heels, as did the three burly servants who’d been brought along to cart MacGregor off to the magistrate after Devlin finished with him. Of course, with as big a man as Lachlan was, it might have taken more than three if he hadn’t already suffered a beating.
The room was dark and quite chilly. The fire that had been lit at some time during the day had completely burned out, and the guards at the door had probably scared the maids away. But from what little light filtered in from the hall, MacGregor was located in his bed, and once again was apparently asleep.
Megan tsked. The man’s condition supported her contention that this interrogation really should be delayed until morning. But Devlin was already giving orders to the three servants to get the fire going and light the lamps about the room, and in his obvious sour mood, they were quick to obey. So she didn’t suggestagainthat this ought to wait. Further aggravating him at this point wouldn’t benefit the Highlander. Not that she wanted to benefit him.
Lady Kimberly might have raised a few doubts that morning, but Megan still tended to agree with her husband. She just felt—well, rather sorry for Lachlan, all things considered. And she dreaded having to tell Margaret what he’d done. So far, the matter had been kept under wraps, so to speak, but soon enough it would become common knowledge. And Margaret was going to be terribly upset. Not only that, but she would undoubtedly hold herself responsible as well, for having invited him here, nephew or not.
“That’s enough light,” she heard Devlin say now. “Fetch that basin of water over there. I want to be certain he’s completely awake—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Megan interrupted and marched over to the bed, ordering loudly on the way, “Get up, MacGregor, and go splash some water on your face—before it’s done…for you…”
Her words trailed off and her step halted as she got a good look at the man in the bed, who had opened his eyes and was even attempting to sit up, though with some very obvious difficulty. His cheeks were bruised, the left side of his head was also swollen, his lips were puffy and scabbed, and there was a knotty lump on his forehead that the lock of hair that had fallen there couldn’t quite conceal.
