“I havenae decided yet,” Arran admitted with a groan. “She helped me escape, yet if I had left her there, McDougal would have killed her.”
“A soft spot, eh?” his uncle laughed. “Ye do need a wife.”
Arran barked in laughter. “Nay, not her!” The lass was several years older than he, and Arran knew she was none too pleased with him either.
Uncle Fergus leaned close, a twinkle in his eyes. “Think about it. Ye could marry the healer and make her a Mcaiwn. If she’s someone else, then ye have just married his own kin. Wot better way tae get one over on yer enemy than tae wed his relation?”
His uncle’s words stayed with Arran as he climbed the steps to the second landing of the keep, his body fatigued from the last few days. He needed a week or more to heal completely and feel like himself, but he didn’t have a week. Now he had to plan for the impending attack on the keep and a healer who did not wish to be there.
Wed her? Arran needed to get a closer look at this healer. What if she wasn’t who she stated?
What if she had been lying to him this entire time?
His ma met him on the landing, a tight smile on her face. “Arran, ye look like death.”
He sighed. “I know. I feel like it, too.”
She reached out and touched his cheek. “I’m so glad that ye came back tae us. I cannae stand tae think how close we came tae losing ye.”
Arran leaned into his ma’s touch. There was a moment he thought he would not make it back, that he would die at the hands of his enemy and leave his family to die as well.
That had not been his course for his life, however, and now Arran was going to make McDougal pay for what he had done to his clan.
“I’m far tougher than that,” he told her.
She shook her head, dropping her hand. “Just like yer da, ye are. I put yer prisoner in the room next tae yers. The poor lass, she was exhausted, but wouldnae allow me tae attend tae her.”
Arran straightened, clearing his throat. “I will check in on her then.” He wanted to see if his uncle’s claims were valid.
His ma grabbed his arm as he brushed past. “Make certain that ye tread lightly with her. She is an innocent, and by the looks of it, she saved yer life.”
“I am not going tae hurt her,” he replied before continuing down the hall. Once he found her room, Arran rapped on the door with his fist. “Healer, open this door.”
The door opened a moment later, and she stood in the doorway, an angry gaze on her face. “I want tae go home.”
Arran moved inside the room and shut the door behind him, leaning against it. “Nay, I cannae allow that.”
She balled her fists at her sides. “I saved yer life! Ye should grant me whatever I want.”
“Perhaps,” he conceded, taking her appearance in. “But ye have not been as honest with me either.”
Her eyes widened, and Arran knew that his uncle’s claims were true. “Who are ye?” he asked softly. “Truly.”
She opened and closed her mouth before setting it into a firm line. “I’m Agatha, the McDougal healer.”
“And I am McDougal himself,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yer eyes, they are the same as the laird’s. Ye are his relation.”
She looked away from Arran.
“I am his cousin.”
8
She was lying to him yet again. The laird stood before her, looking far larger than she remembered now that he was on his feet and not in chains. She was not afraid of him; he could have killed her many times over when he took her from the McDougal land.
But somehow, he had realized she was not just a healer, and Ainslee had said the first thing that came to mind. She could not let him find out who she really was.
“And I take it ye dae nae care for him?” Arran added softly.
