Ete and Lizzie had been just as surprised as she—and were just as upset. They were also in the dark about where the children had been taken. Aonghus, Bryan, and Cormac had woken them at dawn and informed them the children were leaving. They’d been forbidden from waking Cate and letting her know what was happening. They’d made noise above her room, hoping she would hear, but she’d slept in Gregor’s room.
Of course, Aonghus, Bryan, and Cormac—as well as John—were nowhere to be found. Most of the men (including Gregor and the other Phantoms) had gone hawking and would not be back before the evening meal.
Suspecting information would not be forthcoming from Gregor’s men anyway, Cate took advantage of their absence and decided to see if she could find any clues amongst Gregor’s papers.
Slipping into the laird’s solar, she lit a few candles (the windowless room was already dark) and began to look through the various chests. She knew that the leather folios holding the household ledgers were in the largest of the chests, so she focused on the others. One contained documents from the time Gregor’s father was chief, but the smallest wooden chest, closest to the clerk’s table, contained a number of folded missives with their wax seals cracked.
One caught her eye. She sucked in her breath, the burn of pain that seared her chest surprisingly intense even after all these years. She recognized the seal, having seen it many times. The young Earl of Carrick had never been without the ring engraved with the Lion Passant above the St. Andrew’s cross. As it wasn’t an official document, the king must have used his ring rather than the royal seal.
Learning had not come easily to Cate, but she was grateful that her mother had insisted she be taught how to read and write. Scanning the words, however, she felt her legs turn to jelly. She had to reach for the edge of the table to steady herself, as her stomach and head fought the swirl of dizziness.
No.
Though her skills were rudimentary, they were enough to take in the meaning of the words on the piece of parchment before her. Still, she read it twice to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood.
But the truth was there in flourishing strokes of black ink. Her father’s missive contained congratulatory remarks about the betrothal, news about the words of Gregor’s identity spreading, and new intelligence about the arrival of De Bohun’s men to help with the defense of Perth Castle, including the return to Scotland of Sir Reginald Fitzwarren, the captain that Gregor had been enquiring about for years.
For years.
He’d known. All this time, Gregor had known the identity of the man who’d attacked her village—the man who’d killed her mother and the unborn child—and he’d kept it from her. Nay, he hadn’t just kept it from her; he’d lied to her, telling her he didn’t know. She must have asked him a dozen times over the years. Why…why would he do something like that, knowing how desperate she was to know? Knowing how badly she’d needed to put a name to the face of the nightmares that haunted her?
She was so lost in the hurt, she didn’t hear the door open behind her.
“What are you doing in here, Cate?”
Still holding the devastating missive in her hand, she turned to face John. “He knew.” She held up the letter, her hand shaking. “All this time Gregor has known the identity of the man who attacked our village.”
John swore. “You weren’t meant to see that.”
“Obviously,” she sneered. “I guess I don’t need to ask if you knew, too. How could you keep this from me, John? How could he? Don’t you think I had a right to know?”
John’s mouth pursed in a hard line. He took her condemnation without trying to defend himself.
She understood. “He told you not to tell me, didn’t he?”
Clearly answering carefully, John tried to explain. “He was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me?” she repeated incredulously. “From the truth?”
“Fitzwarren has been in England since the attack—unreachable. But Gregor worried you might try to do something, uh…ill-advised.”
“You mean foolish. He thought I’d run off and try to kill him myself, that’s what you mean?”
“I believe he may have considered the possibility,” John said, hedging. “Do you deny it?”
Tears blurred her eyes. It wasn’t the lie that hurt as much as it was what it signified. He hadn’t trusted—or respected—her enough to think she’d be able to handle the information and make her own decisions. She’d wanted Gregor to think of her as a strong woman—capable of taking care of herself—but he still saw her as the little girl in the well who needed to be protected. Even with their growing closeness the past few weeks he’d kept this from her,knowinghow important it was to her.
She wished she could be angry, but it was the weight of disappointment crushing down on her that hit her most. “I trusted Gregor when he said he would handle it. I would have listened to his explanations. But he never gave me the opportunity. He has no faith in me at all.”
“Talk to him, Cate. He was only trying to protect you. Give him a chance to explain before rushing to judgment. He does have faith in you. It might not seem like it right now, but he does.”
John was right. They needed to clear the air between them if this marriage was going to have any chance of working.
She looked at the missive in her hand, the red wax of the seal catching her eye. It wasn’t only the contents of the letter they needed to discuss, but also the identity of the man who’d sent it. Gregor hadn’t been the only one to keep a secret.
“Where is he?”
“Washing for the evening meal.”
