“I wanted to speak to you about the man I captured,” he informed her. “I know he is a thief, but he is in a pitiful condition and I do not know what to do with him. He stole my most precious possession, and I have her back, but I also have Lachie MacAdam sitting decaying in my dungeon. He will not eat or speak. All he does is stare at the wall all day. Was he like that with you?”
“I hardly spoke tae him,” Leana replied. “He wis very dazed an’ weak. He couldnae even tell me his name—or widnae.”
“Why did you hide him?” Fraser asked, puzzled. “Why did you not turn him over to me? He had an arrow in his back. You must have known he was a criminal.”
“I didnae think about that M’Laird,” she replied with dignity. “All I saw was an injured man who needed help, an’ it wis help that I could give him. It was my Christian duty and I wis glad tae dae it. God aye says, ‘hate the sin, love the sinner,’ but I didnae knaw the man was a thief. I could only see that he was hurt. The good Samaritan didnae let a man die in the dust and I widnae either. That man lied tae me an’ telt me he couldnae remember onythin.’ But even if I had knawn I would hae helped him onyway, because ane day I will hae tae face my Lord an’ if I tell him I didnae help the man he will ask me why no’? I cannae say ‘because he is a thief’ because I am a sinner an’ a’. But if I hae done the wrang thing then the Lord will punish me. If you want tae punish me as well, then I gie myself up tae ye an’ hope for yer mercy. But if you punish me and there is no reason to, you will have to face God. I am honest so I have nothing to worry aboot.”
Fraser could not speak for a moment, and when he did, his tone was humble. He felt ashamed; it was the first time he had really seen her for what she was—a truly good person—and he had been about to judge her, censure her, and embarrass her. Moreover, she had stood up for herself, not with anger or defensiveness, but with simple, quiet dignity. He was lost in admiration.
“I had not thought of it that way,” he said gently. “Forgive me, please, Mistress McBeth, for I have too much pride.”
“‘Tis no’ my place tae forgive ye, M’Laird, but God’s,” she said simply.
If she had not turned to walk away at that moment he might have gathered her into his arms and kissed her passionately, the way he had wanted to almost since the first moment he saw her. Now he panicked. She must not get away!
“Leana—may I call you Leana?” he asked.
“You are my Laird, I cannae stop ye,” she replied. The words were spoken in a very ordinary respectful tone but he was aware of their meaning.You are the master and I am the servant,they seemed to say.I cannot do anything about it.
“Leana, I need your help,” he told her.
She was surprised as she looked up into his deep, dark eyes and saw an expression of tenderness there. She was tempted to put her hand on his broad chest but he was her Laird and she could never do anything so intimate. He might think she was his for the taking.
“Come in the hoose,” she said, sighing inwardly. The Laird had a big castle with God knew how many bedrooms in it, no doubt with silk coverlets on the beds and velvet curtains by the windows. There were likely polished wooden floors with expensive rugs on the floor and embroidered hangings on the walls.
Now he was going into a dim wooden cottage with two tiny windows in the dry stone walls and straw on the mud floor, a fireplace that was also used for cooking, and one recess in the wall where Leana’s father’s bed was. A rough wooden table and two chairs stood under one of the windows and Joe’s rocking chair, made by a carpenter at the castle, was in the warmest spot beside the fire.
When Fraser came in Joe tried to struggle to his feet, but the Laird stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder, and gave him a small smile. He looked around and frowned. “Where do you sleep, Leana?” he asked curiously.
“Ower there.” She pointed to a spot by the side of the fireplace where a rolled-up straw mattress stood against the wall.
Fraser was appalled. He had no idea his tenants lived in such conditions. This whole house, where each wall was no more than ten feet in length, would have fit into his bedroom twice over.
“Has this always been your cottage?” Fraser asked Joe.
“Aye, since my great-granda’s time,” he replied. “He brought up six bairns here.”
“There is not enough space,” Fraser said, unconsciously thinking aloud as he looked around.
Leana handed him a cup of ale. “We make dae wi’ what we are given,” she said flatly. “It is better than sleepin’ in the barn or the fields, and there are nae holes in the roof. We are better aff than some.” Her voice was quiet, without self-pity.
She gazed at him for a moment. He was so tall and broad that he seemed to take up all the space in the room. Suddenly he spoke.
“I need your help,” he said, frowning, “because Lachie will not tell me where he hid what he stole. It is a gold candlestick which is extremely valuable, and the set of two is a family heirloom. I did not think anyone would steal it from the chapel.”
“Whit can I dae?” Leana asked, puzzled.
Fraser sighed and ran his hand back through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “He will not speak to me and I do not believe in torture. I merely want you to talk to him.”
“An’ why should he speak tae me?” she asked.
“You are his rescuer,” Fraser pointed out. “And you are a woman. You have a gentler touch.”
She thought for a moment. “An’ when ye find it?” she asked. “Whit will ye dae then?”
“I will send him for trial,” Fraser replied.
“Will he hang?” Leana asked.
