Caitrina’s heart thumped, suspecting what he was about to say.
“Alasdair MacGregor is dead.”
She flinched from the blow. Dear God, Niall had been right. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but here it was straight from Jamie’s mouth.
She sat stonily as he relayed the story of Argyll’s treachery exactly as her brother had described it.
Please,she prayed.Don’t let it be worse.“And what was your part in this, my laird?” she asked hesitantly. “Aside from negotiating the MacGregor’s surrender?”
He took her hand and looked deep into her eyes. “I swear, Caitrina, I knew nothing of my cousin’s plans. I thought he had every intention of handing the MacGregor over to King James. When I received Argyll’s note that the MacGregor had been killed in Edinburgh, I knew something had gone horribly wrong. I also suspected the reason. That is why I left without explanation—I had none to give until I spoke to my cousin.” His face darkened. “I was furious when I realized what he’d done.”
Caitrina searched his face. He looked so sincere, and she wanted desperately to believe him. But could she risk it? Jamie had never shied from the fact that he was Argyll’s man. His enforcer. Could he ever belong to her when his loyalty was tied to Argyll? Was Niall right? Was she a fool to trust him?
Her silence appeared to worry him. “Tell me you believe me.”
His voice was insistent, but not pleading. She understood why. He was a proud, honorable man. When he answered, he’d told her the truth and would not beg for her to believe him. That was not his way.
The truth.It was the truth, she realized. “I believe you, but what you knew won’t matter. You negotiated the surrender, and you will take the blame for what happened. It will be assumed that you knew what your cousin intended.”
He grimaced. “Aye. I said much the same to my cousin.” His anger at Argyll seemed real enough. Maybe good could come of this after all—if Jamie broke with his cousin. “And what justification did he offer for betraying you like this?”
Jamie sighed. “I don’t think he thought about how this would affect me at all. He’s been under extreme pressure from the king to quiet the Highlands and Alasdair MacGregor in particular. These past few months, he’s thought of little else. But no matter how justified the MacGregor’s death, the trick was unworthy of him.”
She couldn’t believe it. “He still has your loyalty?”
His jaw hardened at the implied criticism. “He does. My first impulse was to turn in my sword, but I realized that to do so would be shortsighted. I’m well aware of my cousin’s failings. Argyll isn’t perfect, but I still believe that ultimately he is the best hope for the Highlands. Neither side is one hundred percent right, Caitrina, but eventually we all must pick one.”
The observation struck her—he was right. It wasn’t just a question of who was right and who was wrong. No matter how much she wished it were easy, eventually she would have to choose. This was what it meant to grow up. The ignorance of her youth had been deceptively simple.
“For me,” he continued, “the balance still weighs strongly in favor of my cousin. He has the power to make change and wants the same things I do.”
“And what is that?”
“Peace. Safety. Land for our people. Argyll has a blind spot where the MacGregors are concerned, but he’s fiercely loyal to his friends and a fair chief.”
“Fair? How can you say that after what he did to you?”
“That’s just it, it wasn’t to me at all.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “You don’t know him like I do.”
Nor did she wish to. “What is this bond between you?”
He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, then finally decided to answer her. “How much do you know about my father?”
“Very little.” Only what Meg confided and what she’d picked up here and there.
“He died at the battle of Glenlivet, taking a musket shot meant for Argyll, barely a year after my mother passed. Elizabeth and I spent most of our time with my cousin and the former countess at Inveraray. Argyll has been like a father to me. My own believed in him enough to give his life for him, and that is not something I take lightly.”
Caitrina knew there was much he was leaving out—about his eldest brother in particular—but the gist was clear. There was a personal connection between Jamie and Argyll that went far deeper than she’d realized. They were not simply chief and captain, but family bound by blood and sacrifice.
“And for his part,” he continued, “my cousin has always looked out for Elizabeth and me. I was barely ten and eight when he made me a captain and not much older than that when he started having me represent him to the Privy Council. I owe him much for my position and fortune—he’s provided me opportunities for advancement not common to a third son.”
It sounded as though Argyll’s indebtedness to Jamie’s father had extended to the son. But it was also clear that the bond between Argyll and Jamie ran in both directions.
“His actions have stretched my loyalty to the breaking point, but it is still there. He wronged me,” Jamie admitted. “Badly. And he knows it. But it won’t happen again.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I am. That’s all. You’ll have to trust me. My cousin is not a perfect man, but I believe in him and what he is doing.”
