He shook his head, perplexed. She was talking herself out of the match before she gave the man a chance. Not that the idea of her with MacGregor pleased him, but for so many reasons, he could not object. “What makes ye suspect him?”
“I canna tell ye that, Jamie. Just, please, be careful. Dinna accept anything that man says at face value.”
Caitrin had good instincts. He knew that. But so soon? “Ye could be wrong about him.”
She shrugged. “I could, but I dinna think I am.”
Another thought chilled him, despite the warmth of the fire in the hearth and his feelings for the lass, nay, the woman, at his side. “Are ye safe here, lass?”
She averted her gaze to the hearth. “For now, aye. But if he sends ye Lathans and Da and Uilleam away, if I am left here alone with him, I dinna think so.”
Jamie hated the way the thought of her at MacGregor’s mercy leached the strength from his limbs, leaving him helpless against the weight of his concern. He shook it off and resolved to do everything he could to protect her. “I’ll be watching, Caitrin. I will do what I can to protect ye, but I’m caught between yer wishes, yer father’s, and Toran’s. He expects me to see both the treaty and the betrothal done. No’ one or the other. Both.”
She reached across the arm of his chair and touched his hand, her eyes luminous in the firelight. “So ye’ll let MacGregor claim me?”
Jamie’s blood stirred at her touch. He ignored it by force of will. “Ye ken I canna influence that decision. Yer da will do what he thinks best for Fletcher.”
“Ye could help me dissuade him.”
Jamie shook his head and stood, moving out of her reach toward the door. “Did ye hear me, lass? I am under my laird’s orders. I am no’ in charge of what happens here. Nor are ye.”
“Toran’s orders?” She waved a hand, dismissing him, then stood and lifted her chin. “I do ken my role here, much as I might wish to be in control of my fate.” Then her posture softened. “I just needed to be reminded I have a friend nearby.”
His belly clenched in dismay. There was little enough a friend could do for her, even if that friend was the Lathan envoy. But she needed to hear it. “Ye do, as ye always have. Now I must go.”
She attempted a brave smile, but he saw the effort behind it. “Thank ye, Jamie. My friend.”
He gave her a grin intended to reassure, a hint of the affable lad he’d once been. “Ye can thank me when I’ve done something to be thankful for.”
With that, he opened the door a crack and checked the hallway. Still dark and silent, the hallway was clear, so he slipped out and returned to his chamber. But worries about Caitrin kept him awake for hours. What could a handful of men do to protect her in the midst of another clan’s keep?
****
“Ah, there ye are!”
Caitrin looked up in surprise as the MacGregor approached the table where she sat with her father, sharing breakfast and fretting over her late night conversation with Jamie. He’d been honest with her. Toran had put enough pressure on him to test any man’s mettle, and demanded he succeed. It appeared Toran hadn’t changed much over the years.
“Ye look well this morning, my dear. Rested. Are ye recovered from yer journey then?”
Caitrin eyed him warily and nodded. She’d been tired from the trip and up late talking to Jamie. She doubted she looked rested, but went along with the polite fiction. She had learned over the years to ignore the harmless, socially-accepted untruths, as she ignored the slight buzz along her skin that they caused. “I believe I am, Laird MacGregor. My thanks to ye for yer hospitality.”
What had become of MacGregor? Last night, he had been stiffly formal, every inch the laird. This morning, he seemed friendlier, even jovial. Not consistent at all with the reserved impression he’d made on her the evening before.
“Call me Alasdair, lass. ’Twill make our time together this morning more pleasant as we become better acquainted, aye?”
Caitrin’s eyes widened as her brow lowered. Their time together this morning? She quickly controlled her expression and glanced at her father, hoping for a reprieve, but knew she was unlikely to get it.
“Da?”
“Indeed, daughter. Go with the MacGregor. Ye will be well cared for.”
For a moment, Caitrin wished heartily she could go back home to Fletcher, to a life she understood, rather than dealing with all this uncertainty. But at least for this morning, the MacGregor…Alasdair seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her. She’d have expected him to be the type of man to see a pretty face and be ready to proceed directly to the wedding and the bedding as long as the lass was comely and healthy enough to bear his heirs. Perhaps there was more to this man than she’d given him credit for.
But despite his affable demeanor this morning, Alasdair MacGregor still did not seem harmless to her.
He led her from the hall. Outside, cloud shadows played tag in the breeze of a lovely, warm spring day. Caitrin barely noticed the sunshine, so intent she was on MacGregor...Alasdair’s every move. To her relief, he kept a proper distance as he escorted her to a walled garden.
“I thought ye’d enjoy this place on such a fine day,” he told her as he opened the gate and gestured her inside.
