Caitrin shook her head, but her father interrupted before she could speak, his grip on the door tense, but his eyes sympathetic, which gave her hope.
“Dinna think to defy me on this, daughter. Rest and we’ll discuss this further when ye are more yerself.”
She kept her tone level and low. On the verge of slamming the door behind him, he would not listen if she appeared angry or distraught. “I understand ye are willing to risk me in this venture. But are ye willing to risk all of Fletcher? Think on it, Da, please. MacGregor has a goal in mind. I canna tell ye what it is. No’ yet. But I fear ye canna trust him. I am as much a tool in his hands as I am in yers.”
Fletcher stepped back into the room, leaving the door open. “Ye think to determine all this on the strength of a few minutes in the man’s company?”
Caitrin softened and lowered her voice to a whisper. She didn’t want this conversation echoing down the hallway. “Ye ken how it comes to me, Da, even if ye willna admit it.”
“Yer nonsense.” He threw up his hands, patience with her apparently at an end. “Ye’re basing all of this on yernonsense?” He turned and left the room without another word, closing the door behind him more gently than Caitrin expected, given the irritation he displayed.
Her heart sank. He would never admit her ability was real, even though he’d seen the proof of it many times.
****
Jamie found the strands of hair hanging from the door handle by touch. Invisible in the darkened hallway, they were the same signal Caitrin had used at the Aerie to indicate she felt homesick and wanted his company.
He paused, berating himself yet again for risking this visit. He and the other Lathans had been lodged on another floor as a message. Their job escorting Caitrin was done, their assistance no longer needed. The MacGregor would likely have sent them on their way, happy to see the back of them, if not for how their dismissal might appear to Fletcher.
Or perhaps, MacGregor could not boot them out. If Fletcher insisted they remain as an escort if the negotiation broke down, MacGregor would have to agree in order to maintain the appearance of cooperation. Jamie doubted the negotiation would end any time soon. Fletcher was intent on this marriage or none of them would be here. But what did MacGregor hope to gain, besides a beautiful bride? Fletcher had little else to offer him.
Caitrin had her doubts, or she would not have asked Jamie to come to her. She’d never been a silly, simpering miss. She would know what they risked.
At that thought, he paused, considering yet again whether he should turn around and make his way softly downstairs.
Did she hope to be discovered with him, to prevent the marriage to MacGregor? He had no business being here alone. Not during broad daylight, and certainly not in the depths of the night. But this was Caitrin. The lass he’d once known could not be capable of such treachery. Not the lass he’d sworn years ago to befriend and protect for all their lives. Nor, he hoped, could the woman she’d become.
If Toran had known about their nighttime visits during Caitrin’s fostering, Jamie would never have heard the end of it. But Jamie had felt sorry for the lass, a near-orphan, who kept up a brave facade during the day, withstanding Toran’s teasing with humor. She’d broken down once when Toran was out of earshot, and Jamie had pledged to attend her whenever she needed him. Jamie fingered the strands of hair again. They’d agreed on this signal.
Now those few strands also told him which chamber was hers. He lifted the hair from the handle and rubbed it between his fingers. The urge to tuck it into his shirt, a tiny keepsake, tempted him, but if he was found with it, it would mean his life. Nay, the best place for it was inside her chamber, where she waited. On the back of a chair, or on the floor near her dressing table. Decision made, he opened the door carefully, more to avoid making noise than out of concern for finding a maid within. The Caitrin he knew of old, his friend, would not have put out her signal if it would have led to their discovery.
Was she still his Caitrin?
A low fire lit her sitting room well enough for Jamie to see her, still in her dinner dress, dozing in a chair before the hearth. She was alone. Relief washed over him that she had not prepared for bed. That would be twice damning if they were found together. He stepped in silently and closed the door softly behind him. The hearth flames flickered at the shift in the air as he moved forward.
Caitrin awoke instantly, as alert upon being pulled from sleep as she’d been when they were children. He suspected she still slept lightly, at best. She would have made a good scout had she been born a lad.
“I never doubted ye would come,” she said by way of greeting, indicating the companion chair next to hers.
Without touching her, he dropped the hairs onto the back of her chair where a few loose strands would not cause notice then took his seat. “What is going on, Caitrin?” Might as well get straight to the point. “Do ye ken how dangerous this is? Me here with ye?” He kept his voice low and soothing lest his annoyance provoke her. “The longer I stay here, the greater our peril, should yer father take it into his head to play midnight chaperone, or, worse, should the MacGregor decide to sample yer favors before he signs the contract. I havena a good excuse for being on this floor of the keep, should I be discovered in the hall or on the stairs, much less within yer chamber. So I ask ye again. Why am I here?”
Her subtle signal at the table had been plain enough to him. She needed to talk. Now she hesitated, clenching and unclenching her fists.
A chill crept down Jamie’s back. How bad was this going to be?
“I have reason to doubt the MacGregor’s intentions, Jamie.” She turned her gaze to the hearth. “Fletcher is no’ willing to hear me. No’ yet anyway. I need yer help.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Ye’ve barely met the man.” Caitrin had always been a perceptive lass, but this seemed more like an attempt to gain some control over a situation wherein she was little more than a pawn.
Her soft laugh startled him. “That’s exactly what my da said.” She shook her head then turned in her seat and captured his gaze with her own. “I believe the betrothal is a means to an end, as am I.”
“What end?”
She turned back to the fire. “I dinna ken.”
Jamie leaned back in his chair and rubbed his jaw. “What do ye think I can do? Stop the betrothal?”
Her jaw tightened, casting a deeper shadow across the side of her face. “I’m telling ye, he’s up to something. I dinna ken what, no’ yet, but I plan to find out.”
