“You really think you can convince your cousin?”
“I do,” he said confidently.
Niall paused, considering. “Still, I’d have your promise if you’re willing to give it.”
Jamie bowed. “Then you have it.”
For the first time since Jamie had burst into the cave, maybe for the first time in months, hope flared in Niall Lamont’s gaze.
Caitrina suffered the frantic ministrations of her former nursemaid, all the while worrying about what was happening with her brothers. She’d heard the men ride through the castle gates not long after her, and from the numerous servants who rushed back and forth fulfilling Mor’s requests for herbs, salves, water, and clean linens, she’d learned that her brother and his men had been taken to the old, unused south tower. She admitted to a certain relief that Niall had been wrong and they’d not been imprisoned in the dungeon. She’d been right to trust Jamie.
Mor was about to send a girl on another errand—this time for more pillows—when Caitrina sat up, having suffered enough. “ ’Tis nothing more than a scratch, Mor. Truly, I’m fine.” The blade had sliced about a two-inch cut at the base of her jaw.
The old nursemaid put her hands on her hips and pursed her mouth disapprovingly. “ ’Tis deep enough to scar.”
“You’ve put your salve on it and bandaged it. Any scar that remains won’t be visible.”
“I’ll know it’s there,” Mor said stubbornly.
Aye, and so will I.A lasting memory of my betrayal ofmy clan.But she would wear the badge with honor if her brothers were spared.
The door opened again and another young serving girl rushed in.
“ ’Tis about time,” Mor said angrily. “What took you so long? I sent you for those herbs hours ago.”
More like a few minutes ago, Caitrina thought wryly.
“I’m sorry, mistress. The kitchens are in an uproar at the laird’s bequest, readying everything for the morrow.”
Caitrina froze, every instinct flared. “Tomorrow? What is happening tomorrow?”
The girl cast her a furtive glance, then looked to the floor. “I thought you knew, my lady. The laird is taking the prisoners to Dunoon.”
Caitrina felt the blood drain from her face.No!
There has to be a mistake.
Not long afterward, Caitrina sat woodenly before the fire, staring into the dying embers of flaking ashy peat. The incident that had almost taken her life was far from her mind as she waited for a more painful blow to fall. She’d sent Mor and the others from the room, knowing that he would come to her soon—if only to check on her injury.
She fought the bitter swell of betrayal; she would hear his explanation first.
At last she heard the familiar heavy footfalls. Her heart pounded. The door opened and closed. She lifted her eyes to his.
He spoke first. “Your wound—”
“Tell me it’s not true,” she said, cutting him off, her injury insignificant in the face of what she’d just discovered. He seemed perplexed by her tone. “What’s not true?”
Her hand gripped the wooden arm of the chair. “Tell me that you have not arrested my brother and his men. Tell me that you are not taking them to your cousin.”
He straightened, clearly taken aback. “I thought you understood. It’s my duty—”
“Duty?” Pain seared through her. Caitrina wanted to wail like a wounded animal. The affirmation of his betrayal cut more deeply than she could imagine. She’d trusted him with what she held most dear, and he’d betrayed her. “I don’t care about your duty! I would never have told you where they were if I’d known what you intended. You swore you would help them.”
His mouth fell in a tight line—a look she recognized when he was trying to control his temper. A temper that seemed to exist only around her. “I will help them. Brian will stay here until he can recover, but Niall and the rest of the men must go to Dunoon to face the charges against them.”
This couldn’t be happening. Her chest squeezed so badly, she couldn’t breathe. “You’d help them by turning them over to the hands of an executioner? Dear God, Jamie, they’ll die for what they’ve done.”
His eyes leveled on hers. “I told you before that my cousin has promised to act fairly—and leniently—with them.”
