“Mr. MacLean is warning this woman to destroy something of importance,” the Nor’wester said.
“Is this true?” McLeod asked Eleanor.
Arran had never known Eleanor to lie before, but she stared at McLeod now and said, “I do not have anything you will find important.”
McLeod studied Eleanor for a moment and then he said, “Who are ye?”
“Miss Eleanor Brooke.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Lady Eleanor Brooke, the daughter of Lord Brooke, Earl of Rathmore?”
Eleanor did not voice her answer, but simply nodded.
Several of McLeod’s men took notice of Eleanor then, eyeing her with more than a passing interest. Arran’s entire body became rigid, and suddenly the host of McLeod’s men became enemies for an entirely different reason.
“I had heard Selkirk was sending a lady into the colony to bring some refinement, but I dinna believe the rumors.” McLeod looked between Eleanor and Arran, his eyes calculating. Then he nodded toward her trunk. “Show me yer things, Lady Eleanor.”
Eleanor’s hair was still damp from her bath. It drooped in the back, her pins having come loose. But she was beautiful as she stoically opened her trunk.
McLeod looked inside, but it was only her gowns and personal effects. “And that one?” He pointed to her smaller trunk, the one with the books.
“The books I brought with me from my father’s home at Edgewood Manor.” If ever Eleanor had used her status and breeding, it was now. She lifted her chin and looked down at McLeod, reminding Arran that she was, at her heart, a member of the aristocracy. “You will not find anything of interest in there.”
McLeod nodded toward the Nor’wester with the deep-set eyes. He opened the trunk and showed him her books.
“Take them to the bateau,” McLeod ordered.
“You cannot take my books.” Eleanor’s voice rose high as color filled her cheeks. “I use them to teach the children.”
“I can do what I please, Lady Eleanor. I am the Justice of the Peace and everything within yer possession is evidence.” Hisgaze landed on the traveling desk placed close to the smaller trunk. “And what is this?” He walked over to the desk and lifted the lid.
Eleanor’s journal sat within.
She stiffened and Arran stepped forward, but McLeod held up his hand to stop Arran.
Arran stared hard at McLeod as the man leafed through Eleanor’s personal writings. He read a few lines and then his gaze lifted and he looked from Eleanor to Arran, comprehension in his gaze. “Are ye lovers?”
Heat rose up Arran’s neck as he ground out, “Dinna insult the lady with such vulgarity. She is my fiancée.” But what had he read within the pages of Eleanor’s journal that would lead him to believe they were lovers?
“Ye’re affianced to a lady? Well done, MacLean.”
“That is my journal,” Eleanor said, her lips tight. “You have no right to read it.”
“I have already told ye my rights—and responsibilities.” McLeod motioned to one of his men to take the writing desk, as well. “I will keep all of this as evidence.”
Eleanor stepped forward to grab the journal at the same moment Arran did—but both were apprehended by McLeod’s men.
“Take MacLean and the other five liars into custody,” McLeod said to the Nor’westers. “The rest may continue on to Jack River House, as planned.”
“Custody?” Arran asked, his heart pounding. He tried to pull away from his captor. “Why are you arresting us?”
“Ye will be charged with crimes against the North West Company and subpoenaed to appear in court in Montreal no later than September the first.” McLeod’s self-satisfied smile made Arran’s anger boil. “I will also see that ye are charged with the murder of one of Cuthbert Grant’s men.”
“That’s a lie!”
“Ye told me yerself that one of them fell in the battle instigated by yer men. Ye’ll hang for the offense.”
“It wasna instigated by us!”
