“Kyle will be here soon. He can fetch one of the others to escort ye to yer chamber. But I must leave ye.”
She twisted her hands into the fabric of her skirt as Jamie disappeared around a corner of the darkened hallway. She would not cry. She still had time to fix this. So long as the betrothal agreement remained unsigned, she could hope for a future with Jamie. She must.
The sound of the bed creaking under her father sent a chill down her back.
“Daughter.”
Caitrin’s hands spasmed into fists. She forced them open and dropped her skirt, pasted a smile on her face and turned to her father. He sat on the side of the bed, a scowl drawing down his brow and making his eyes glitter with fury. So he had heard - or worse, seen, her with Jamie.
“Aye, Da? Are ye well?”
“Nay, daughter, I am no’.” With obvious effort, he pushed to his feet. “Ye have disobeyed yer laird. Worse, the envoy risks war between MacGregor, Fletcher, and Lathan. How could ye, Caitrin?”
The plaintive tone to the question after the anger in his statements told Caitrin her father was not as well recovered as he might like others to think. Today had been too much for him. And now, furious at what he perceived as her and Jamie’s betrayal, he pushed himself even harder.
“Please sit down, Da. Ye are overtired.”
“I will do as I see fit, daughter. Explain yerself. Ye ken what this marriage means for Fletcher, and yet ye risk a dalliance with the Lathan under the MacGregor’s roof?”
Caitrin knew it was hopeless, but she had to try again. “If ye would but listen to me, Da. I have said the MacGregor is no’ a fit husband for me, nor ally for Fletcher.”
“Nay, I willna listen to such as that. Ye dinna have any proof. Ye simply want the Lathan and will use any excuse to prevent this marriage and destroy the alliance I’m attempting to forge.”
“Nay! I wouldna risk that if there was any chance the marriage could work, if the alliance would achieve what ye want, but they willna.”
“Ye canna ken that.”
“I ken enough about Alasdair MacGregor to be wary.” Should she tell him what she’d overheard him say about MacGregor’s plans?
“’Tis merely nerves, lass,” her father replied, relenting and resuming his seat on the edge of the bed. “There’s no’ a lass been married who hasna shared yer doubts. That’s all it is.”
Caitrin crossed her arms in front of her. “If ye willna believe me, if ye willna help me, then I must…”
“What? There’s naught ye can do. The marriage will take place. And until it does, I forbid ye from seeing any of the Lathans.”
“The same Lathans who’ve been standing guard outside yer chamber to protect ye from aught the MacGregor or his men might do to ye to gain control of Fletcher?”
“What?”
“The Lathans believe ye are under threat. Why canna ye accept this alliance with MacGregor is bad for Fletcher? Forget about what the man will do to me. What will he do to yer people? Yer heritage? Ye ken I’m right. Why will ye no’ admit it?”
Fletcher’s face reddened. “That’s nonsense. Is MacGregor aware this has been going on?”
Caitrin feared she’d pushed him too far. “Please Da, hear me on this.”
“Nay, lass. Ye will hear yer laird.” Fletcher stood again, red-faced, with veins standing out clearly at his temples. “This marriage, this alliance, will go forward. It must. That is yer role for Fletcher. Ye will be Lady MacGregor. Now get out of my sight—and stay away from that Lathan.”
Tears blinded Caitrin so that she ran square in to Kyle, standing out of sight beyond the door. He steadied her then released her and pulled the door closed behind her.
“Dinna fash, Lady Fletcher,” he told her. “Our Jamie is more clever than ye ken. All will work out as ye wish.”
“I wish I had yer confidence,” Caitrin told him, wiping her eyes. She glanced at the solid wood of the door, behind which she could hear her father pacing and muttering.
“Shall I send for an escort for ye?”
Caitrin shook her head. “Nay. I’ll be fine. I’m so angry right now, any MacGregor who comes close to me will quickly back off if they have any sense.”
Kyle nodded.
