“I want to help.”
He’d been waiting a long time to hear those words. “Could you persuade your brother to allow you to go through your father’s papers?”
She shook her head. “It wouldn’t help. Little was left after the fire.”
His stomach sank. “Fire?”
She nodded. “After Glenlivet when the king marched north, seeking vengeance against those who’d fought against him, he razed many castles, including Freuchie. The great hall and my father’s solar were destroyed. When he died, I went through what remained. There was nothing from around the time of the battle.”
Duncan swore. The chance of finding any documentary proof had been slim, but now it appeared to be nonexistent. His only option appeared to be tracking down the men who might have been involved. But the idea of questioning his brother didn’t sit well.
“You’re thinking of Colin?” Jeannie said.
He gave her a look out of the corner of his eye. “Remind me to be careful what I think around you.” She grinned. “Aye, it’s difficult to conceive that Colin could have anything to do with this.”
“It’s hard staring at the sun all the time.”
He gave her a wry look. “I’m not perfect, Jeannie.”
“To a younger brother you might have seemed as such.” She bit her lip. “Colin said something of the like once. I didn’t think much of it then, but jealousy can drive people to do horrible things. I wonder though if there could be more to it.” Resting her hand on his ribs, she propped her chin on the back of her hand. “What do you know of your mother? You never talk about her.”
He stiffened. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said flatly. He tried to ignore the wounded look in her eyes. But it felt as if he’d just failed some test. She’d wanted him to confide in her—to share feelings that didn’t exist for a woman he’d never known. Hell, he’d rather have his teeth pulled.
But he knew he was treading a treacherous path, this connection they’d established was tenuous. So he took a deep breath, forced the tension from his body, and splayed himself open for her digging. “She was a MacDonald. Nursemaid to the chief’s children. She left me with my father when I was but a few months old. I assume my birth caused her great shame and she was eager to be rid of me. I’m afraid it wasn’t much better for my father. The Campbells and MacDonalds were engaged in a bloody feud at the time. My grandfather hated me on sight.”
She pressed a kiss to his chest. Strangely, it helped. Perhaps because he knew she could understand. “Your father must have cared for her greatly to risk his clan’s wrath.”
He shrugged. “I never thought about it, but I suppose you’re right.”
“Did you ever try to find her?”
He kept a tight rein on his anger and managed to say calmly, “No.” He might have come to terms with his birth, but that didn’t mean he’d wanted anything to do with the woman who’d abandoned him. He gave her a measured look. Did his parentage matter more to her than she’d let on? “Why are you asking me about this?”
She shrugged her naked shoulders. “Just curious.” Her nose scrunched. “I wondered if there was more to the story, that’s all. Your father never said anything more about her?”
“Nay—” He stopped and frowned.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” She got that look again and he sighed, resigned. “Something my father said right before he died.” He recalled his words:Mother…Find…MacDonald.“He seemed to want me to find my mother, but he was delirious with fever.”
He saw the excitement leap in her eyes. “What if hedidknow what he was saying? What if he wanted you—”
“Nay,” he said, cutting her off before she could get carried away. For a moment he caught a glimpse of the spontaneous, exuberant girl who’d snuck out of the castle and joined him in a midnight swim. “I have no interest in a reunion with my mother. If my father wanted me to make peace, I’m sorry to disappoint him.”
“But what if your father wanted you to find something?”
“Like what?”
“What if your mother didn’t really leave you? Or what if there is something about your birth—”
“There is nothing,” he said in a voice that boded no argument. “Don’t look for a faerie tale, you’ll only be disappointed. I’m a bastard, Jeannie, and nothing is going to change that. I thought you accepted it.”
She pursed her sensuous mouth into a thin line. “I do. This is not about me, it’s about you. I’m trying to help you clear your name, and what if finding your mother can help?”
His jaw flexed. “It can’t.”
She mumbled something about stubborn oafs.
