“There must be a way to prove MacGregor is negotiating in bad faith,” he muttered. “Proof yer da would accept. Proof Toran must accept. But how?”
“Have a care, Jamie,” Caitrin warned. “Ye canna trust anything he says or does. If ye hadna been there, he couldha killed my da on the boar hunt with none to say it was no’ an accident. Or it could have been ye under the horse, or worse, both of ye. Neither yer men nor ye are any safer within these walls than Da is or I am.” Caitrin touched the side of her face, and Jamie’s heart wrenched in his chest, but he forced himself to think rather than react. It seemed her worries ran in the same direction as his.
“We are outnumbered, I will grant ye that. But MacGregor hasna made a threat…”
But he had. Jamie froze.
“What? When did he threaten ye?”
Had she picked up on his hesitation? On his sudden change of heart as he recalled MacGregor’s anger? It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t true, either. Or had she simply recognized Jamie’s hesitation for what it was—the realization he spoke in error.
“Days ago, after he first hit ye, he demanded we leave. I refused on the grounds of our duty to Fletcher and the task Toran gave me. While ye were in seclusion, he seemed more open to negotiation. So, to keep him occupied, I pursued our treaty talks in earnest. He has agreed to consider signing, though he hasna committed himself.”
“He’s stalling then. But why?”
Jamie shook his head. “It makes little sense, when only days ago, he wished to be rid of us Lathans. His moods change, moment by moment. At once, he is cooperative, then belligerent, then back again. It makes nay sense.”
Caitrin stood and moved to him, placing a hand on his arm. “Perhaps I can find out. If I pretend to change my mind in favor of the match and spend more time around him…”
Jamie gave in to the urge to put an arm around her waist and pull her against him. “Then yer da may sign the papers and ye’ll be MacGregor’s.” Even in the dim glow of the hearth, he could see Caitrin pale. “I’ve been doing all I can to distract him from the betrothal. Best ye stay out of his way.”
Her hands on his chest contracted into fists, but she only gave a stiff nod in answer.
“The lads and I have been working on ways to get ye free from here, should the need arise to depart, against the MacGregor’s wishes.”
“Or my da’s?”
“Him, too, aye. The simplest will be if ye can go with some of the other ladies to the village.”
“Would I be allowed to leave the keep?”
“I dinna ken,” he answered, lightly running his hand up and down her back. “But perhaps on market day, or with Lady MacGregor, on some errand of hers.” He shrugged. “With the healer, aye, that could work as well, since she’s called out at all hours.”
“Where would we go? MacGregor’s men would surely pursue us.”
“Back to the Aerie, to Lathan.” The arch in her eyebrows told him he’d surprised her.
“We canna do that. It would mean war.”
“No’ if I paid MacGregor the bride price.” Where had that idea come from? He’d said he’d give her up if it came to war. But he knew he could not, and despite what he’d said, he would find a way to keep her.
“Can ye afford such a thing? This is a wealthy clan. Likely he’d demand a large sum.”
He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Let me worry about that. The first thing we must do, if all else fails, is to put ye where he canna reach ye.”
“Da is the key. If he would only withdraw, which he can still do honorably, we could leave with heads held high and nary a concern.”
“Have ye spoken to him since…”
Caitrin touched the side of her face then shook her head. “Nay. He hasna visited me. Whatever ye told him has worked well to keep him away.”
Jamie looked over her shoulder to stare at the fire in the hearth. “That may have been a mistake. Had he seen ye soon after…”
“He wouldha charged in on the MacGregor like a wildcat with its tail on fire. Nay, ye were wise to protect him from that.”
“Perhaps ’tis time to employ the servants. If a lass helping ye tells the healer, who tells yer da…he’ll have to believe the healer.”
“If we could count on her to bear the tale where we wish it to go. But Jamie, Lady MacGregor already kens what her son did. What he’s like. Something she said when she showed me the portraits of her husband and his brother…they were awful, like Alasdair, and so similar in appearance they were called the Twins.”
