The lad who’d insisted she leave the Aerie when she’d come to him in tears with the news they were sending her home. She’d thought he would defend her and argue for her to remain, safe behind the Aerie’s high walls. But he’d surprised her. Toran had said she was too young to ken what was best for her, and to do what she was told. But for Jamie to agree? That hurt. At the time, it felt like a betrayal. She still didn’t know what about his sister’s death had made her safety an issue, since the body had been found in the forest, but the entire keep had been in an uproar. And the look in Jamie’s eyes that day had broken her heart.
“To risk ye with so small an escort?”
Will’s voice sounded like an echo of something she’d heard that awful day, but it served to yank her attention back to the present. At least this time, she had some control over the arrangements being made in her name.
“Nay,” he continued. “Fletchers will ride with ye, too.”
She nodded, knowing he meant well. “Ye ken I’d be proud to have ye with me, Uilleam. But I want to hear what Jamie Lathan has to say before we decide on the size of the escort.”
“There’s naught to decide. Yer safety is most important. Yer da would never forgive yer loss.”
“Yet, he’s bargaining to be rid of me as we speak.” Her lips compressed into a stubborn line. This tugging her to and fro felt all too familiar.
“Lass,” Rona chided.
“Only for the good of the clan,” said Will, who could see her expression. “And yer own, married to a rich and powerful laird. ’Tis a better match than he could find for ye here.”
Caitrin couldn’t miss the frustration in his tone, but she shrugged and moved to the window to let Uilleam’s statement pass unremarked. How all of this commotion must gall him. Not just the commotion, but the reason for it. Her betrothal.
The empty courtyard below didn’t surprise her. She expected Hugh would have already brought the Lathan party to the guest quarters. She just needed some space from Will’s pronouncements.
“I’d best go check with Cook.” At Uilleam’s stern look, she smiled. He did have her best interests at heart. He did not deserve her pique. “We have guests. I must be hostess in my da’s stead and make sure all is prepared.”
“Very well. I’ll escort ye.”
“In my own keep? No’ needful, Will. Go to yer chamber and take care of yer own needs. I’ll see ye in the great hall.”
“Lass.”
“Dinnalassme, too, Will Fletcher.” Caitrin glanced from him to Rona and back again then shook her head, her charity toward him replaced by exasperation. She brushed past him to the door, resting a hand on Rona’s shoulder for a moment, then turned back to Will. “Come. We’ve both places to be and things to do.”
****
MacGregor leaned back in his chair and regarded the man standing before him in his solar. He’d left Fletcher standing for some minutes while he ostensibly considered his latest proposal in their negotiation for his daughter’s hand. Fletcher’s wishes were of no more consequence to MacGregor than the dust motes dancing in the shafts of sunlight illuminating the room.
Fletcher appeared calm and determined, yet a hint of nervousness leaked through. MacGregor liked that. He preferred to keep his underlings off-balance, unsteady and unsure of his next move. Standing while he sat, waiting for his judgment. Their uncertainty added a layer of protection he relied on. No one would attempt to overthrow him unless they were sure of his intentions. Or saw past his strengths to his weaknesses. He made certain they never did. Not until he was ready for them to know, and then only so they could comply with his demands and do his bidding.
He let his gaze roam from Fletcher, who must be longing to hear his answer, or at least to get off his feet, to the view out the window of the curtain wall and the fortifications on it. He liked being chief. He relished the power of the position. Ever since he’d inherited the seat from his elder brother, who’d got it after their da’s and eldest brother’s deaths at Flodden four years ago, he’d wielded power with one goal in mind. He could be single-minded. His brother had considered him frivolous, scattered even, and had made the mistake of underestimating his ambition. It was the last mistake he’d ever made. After their losses at Flodden, the hunting accident had been seen by those in the clan as a second tragedy. Only MacGregor knew it culminated the first stage of his plan.
Now Fletcher offered him a new amusement. His daughter—to bear MacGregor heirs and cement his position in the clan. Not that he didn’t have a number of bastards already. But none of the lasses he’d encountered so far had deserved to wrest the title of Lady of the MacGregors from his widowed mother. Perhaps the Fletcher lass would meet his measure. He must think on how else she could serve his ambitions. But ultimately, she was a secondary consideration.
The real enticement was the presence of the Lathan laird as her escort. He’d been thrilled when Fletcher announced that bit of good news. Did Fletcher think that tie made her more valuable to him? It did, aye, but not in the way Fletcher anticipated.
Dared he make such an audacious move? To take the Aerie’s laird hostage and demand the wealth of the clan for his return? Surely, in that impregnable fortress, the Lathans had amassed several fortunes through the years. And gotten soft, sloppy, and secure behind their walls. Tired of raiding the neighboring clans and ready for bigger game, he risked warfare, and siege, but the payoff would be worth the trouble. Fletcher was the key to the Aerie, the Lathans’ stronghold. Lathan wealth would buy an army of a size even the Regent’s forces could not match.
Or he could be less direct.
Fletcher’s daughter interested him because the lass had fostered in the Aerie. She probably knew her way around—particularly, how to get in and out—without being seen. A clan’s children always discovered its secrets. He would only need a few men on the inside to throw open the gates to the rest of his soldiers, and the Aerie would be his.
Did the lass know enough to make her worth the alliance Fletcher proposed? If she was comely, and biddable, he would enjoy finding out. If she did not live up to the promise of her upbringing—and her fostering—he could amuse himself with her then dispose of her.
In the meantime, until she arrived, he’d have some fun with her father.
Chapter Three
Jamie waited in the Fletcher hall for Caitrin to put in her appearance. He knew his heart should not beat faster, nor should his palms be damp. He should not care. He was here to do a job for his laird, nothing more. But the anticipation of seeing what…who…the Caitrin he recalled had become was almost more than he could take sitting down. He wanted to surge to his feet and pace the length of the hall in agitation. Instead, he remained seated where the steward had directed him, in the place of honor at the high table, to the right of the laird’s seat. He did his best to seem relaxed, watching the goings-on around him with mild disinterest.
A slight stir of movement and the sound of greetings being exchanged outside the door was the only warning he got. She arrived and Jamie’s breath left him in a low exhale that barely escaped becoming an appreciative whistle as he rose to his feet. Stunning. She’d morphed from coltish and pretty into a breathtaking woman, beautifully curved, proud and…haughty? Her stiff posture as she approached warned him that their former easy camaraderie might be a thing of the past, indeed. Her first words as she took the laird’s seat next to him confirmed it.
