“No, I don’t. But I only recently met her. It’s far too soon to love her.” He wasn’t even certain that he ever would. It didn’t seem that marital love was found in his family. If he were like his father, he probably wasn’t even capable of love.
“Why’d you marry her, then?” Dougal asked, meeting Graeme’s gaze.
That was far too complicated to answer honestly. The question wasn’t so much why he’d married her, but why had he stayed married to her. And his lustful reaction to Vanessa’s seduction was not something that he wanted to discuss with his younger brother. “A man needs a wife,” he said simply. Not completely untrue.
“Father and Mother never stayed together.”
“But they remained married.” As if that meant anything. He shook his head. “Our father was a bastard. Not by birth, but by behavior.”
Dougal’s expression pinched, and something akin to hatred lined his features. “I don’t believe you; he was a good man.”
“Well, you never met him, did you?” The lad knew nothing. Although their mother had always spoken kindly about their father where her boys were concerned, Graeme knew the truth. He saw no reason to paint a sweeter picture for Dougal. He was old enough now. “I lived with the man, and I know what I’m talking about.”
Dougal shook his head and stared straight ahead.
Graeme followed his brother’s gaze and found him once again staring at Vanessa. “She’s beautiful,” Graeme said.
“I guess.”
Perhaps Dougal hadn’t gotten to the age where he noticed much about women. Although that didn’t seem right: Graeme had been chasing skirts before his fourteenth birthday.
“Someday you’ll understand.”
“I’m not a child,” Dougal said, then stormed off.
Graeme sighed. Perhaps he’d forgotten how it was to be a boy. With a shake of his head, he made his way back over to Vanessa. The band was getting ready to start, and the makeshift dance floor sat empty. It was a far cry from a London ball, but there was laughter and good music and ale.
“Care to dance?” he asked.
Vanessa smiled, but looked up at him shyly from beneath her lashes, a move he wouldn’t have thought that she would know how to do. Evidently, she knew how to flirt, or perhaps that sort of behavior came natural to all women. “The band hasn’t started yet,” she replied.
“They’ll know what to do.” He pulled her to him, then headed out to the dance floor. Four topiaries marked the corners on the square ground, creating the boundary. They were alone there, dancing beneath the stars and surrounded by the candlelight. He pulled her tight to his body, and the band followed their lead.
The Raven stood in the trees, hidden by the darkness. Silently, he watched the boy in front of him aim the pistol. The boy’s arm shook as he focused on his target. The Raven looked past Dougal to where Graeme and Vanessa stood talking to some guests. The party had been going on for hours now, and Dougal had left nearly two hours before. The boy had paced in the woods for a while, holding the gun at his side before he’d finally made his way to a grove of trees close enough to actually hit his target.
All the while, The Raven had hidden in the darkness, watching and waiting. It was not often that he misjudged people, so he fully expected Dougal to take action. Especially after their conversation earlier that day.
Dougal had sought him out at Niall’s house and had seemed relieved when he’d found The Raven alone. “I am grateful for your counsel, but there is nothing to be done about my brother’s wife,” the boy had said.
The Raven had contemplated a moment before speaking. “That’s not entirely true.” He selected each word before he spoke. “If she were injured, she would have to leave here. You don’t have the requisite medical attention to handle certain types of injuries.”
It wasn’t the plan The Raven had hoped for, but it was a start. And chances were, it would get Graeme out of his way. No doubt the doting husband would follow his injured wife—go along with her to ensure her safety and healing.
Dougal said nothing, merely stood there silently considering The Raven’s suggestion.
“You should shoot her,” The Raven said. “Aim for her leg or somewhere else that wouldn’t threaten her life.”
The Raven merely hoped the boy was a wretched shot and mortally wounded the girl. That would get Graeme out of the picture long enough for The Raven and Niall to complete their work here.
“I will meet you in the woods and show you precisely how easy it is to hurt someone.” The Raven sipped his tea. “Don’t disappoint me, Dougal, or perhaps it will be that brother of yours who is injured.”
Now, here in the woods, the boy stood holding the gun, aiming it in the direction of the party. “Shoot her,” The Raven whispered, although he knew he was too far away for the boy to hear.
The Raven needed Graeme out of Scotland, and killing or wounding his wife seemed the easiest solution. Graeme would be far too distracted to continue nosing into his cousin’s practices. The Raven had seen such behavior with Fielding when the fool had been so worried and protective over Esme. The man had been unfocused, and he’d made mistakes. Men became weak when it came to women. The Raven had once been so foolish, but never again. He was certain the same thing would happen with Graeme as soon as his wife was in danger. He’d be consumed with concern and leave The Raven and Niall to finish their work in peace.
No more Graeme meant no more Solomon’s to prevent him from achieving his goal.
It was a perfect plan.
