They both moved to the two wing chairs in front of the fire.
“Was he a Jacobite?” Angus asked as he seated himself on the thick, upholstered cushion.
Duncan rested his elbows on his knees. “Nay, but his son was. It’s why he left Kinloch a year ago—to reorganize the Jacobite forces and plan another uprising. He and his father quarreled about it, but his father chose to keep his son’s politics a secret.”
“Which makes sense,” Angus replied. “Kinloch was awarded to him for being a Whig and a Hanoverian.” He gazed into the fire. “So I have lost Kinloch to a Jacobite. How ironic.”
His own father had been a staunch Jacobite, and Angus had fought for the cause in countless battles during the rebellion, both large and small. Since his banishment, however, he had desired only peace. Though he could not call himself a Hanoverian—he still resented the English too much—he had hoped to remain neutral. But it seemed there was no right side to choose, no guarantee of peace either way. There would always be warmongers. He used to be one himself. All he’d ever wanted was to fight. He knew no other purpose, no other way to satisfy his voracious hunger for revenge upon the whole goddamned world.
“What about Gwendolen?” he asked, looking down at the whisky in his glass. “Did you ever learn anything about her politics? She always claimed to be in support of the Union, but now I don’t know what to believe. It may have all been lies. Every last bit of everything.”
Angus took a drink to drown out the noise inside his head, but realized it wasn’t helping, so he set it aside. Nothing but the truth could help him now.
Duncan shook his head. “As far as I have been able to tell, she has supported the Hanovers. There was never any evidence to suggest she even knew about her brother’s politics. But she could simply be a good liar. Her mother, evidently, can seduce a grown man back into the cradle.”
“Aye, she’s been attempting that very thing with my cousin.”
“Lachlan MacDonald?” Duncan said with surprise. He took another drink. “He’s a solid warrior, from what I know of him. Not the type to be ensnared by a seductive woman. It’s usually the other way around, isn’t it?”
Angus nodded. “Aye, he’s a notorious heartbreaker. And I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”
They both sat in silence for a moment.
Duncan reached for the iron poker and stirred up the flames in the grate.
Angus tipped his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. “What if my wife is guilty of this deceit?” he asked. “She’s carrying my child.”
Duncan hung the poker on the peg. “If she tried to poison you and was truly behind this plot to see you hanged, then the choice is simple. Arrest her, divorce her, and take custody of your child.”
Angus lifted his head. “And if she is innocent?”
Duncan reclined back in the chair, and considered the dilemma carefully. “If you believe there is a chance she was a pawn to her brother’s treachery, then you ought to drag your sorry arse back there straightaway and get your wife and castle back.”
Angus considered his friend’s forthright advice. “But how do I know the truth? Raonaid always said that Gwendolen would choose her family over me.”
“The oracle?” Duncan scoffed. “Och,she may be a fine thing to look at, but she’s a conniving witch, that one. Do not listen to her. Listen to your own heart, nothing else.”
Angus stared into the flames. “That’s the problem. I don’t know much about my heart. It’s been numb for too long. And even if Gwendolen is innocent in all this, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to care for her again, for she has done the one thing I did not want her to do.”
“What is that?”
“She has made me weak.”
Duncan frowned. “How so?”
He wasn’t sure how to articulate it exactly, because it was all so new. “I never felt fear before this,” he said. “Now I know exactly what it is, and I hesitate to do what must be done quickly and instinctively. I’m distracted all the time. Part of me hates her for that, and wants very much to go on hating her for the rest of my days. Life would be so much simpler, I think, without love to complicate it.”
“Simpler perhaps,” Duncan replied, “but far less meaningful. And did I actually hear you speak of ‘love’?”
Ignoring the last part of the question, Angus stood up and crossed to the window, where he looked out at the moon on the water. “Like I said, this wretched heart of mine has been numb for a long time. It might not want to be revived.”
“Be that as it may, you have a castle to reclaim, and a clan that needs you.”
“Aye, and I have every intention of fulfilling my responsibilities in that area, but I have no army at present.”
Duncan stood up. “You don’t need an army, Angus. There’s another way to do this.”
“Is there?” Angus was not so sure.
