“Verra well.”
Kyle left her long enough to mount up and leaned over to put her reins in her hand. “Ye willna get far without them,” he chided her gently.
Caitrin smiled tiredly and flicked them. Obediently, her mount stepped forward and began the long ride back to MacGregor. True to his word, Kyle stayed with her. She found Jamie at the back of their sad little group, escorting the body of the man he had killed. The monster. The son of a monster. Nephew of a monster. Caitrin wished Jamie would let her comfort him, but he refused, beyond her help for now. Later, after he’d had time to calm down, he might accept her being near him again. Or he might not want her, now MacGregor had marked her. The pain in her breast and thigh reminded her she would have to heal. Then later, she’d try to prove to him those scars didn’t matter.
Could she do that? Would she ever believe it herself? She’d always bear the reminder of this awful day. She’d alwaysbea reminder to Jamie of what he’d done, and nearly done. Tears slipped down her cheek, and she impatiently wiped them away. Could she do that to him? She had no choice but to live with her scars. She would have to learn to ignore them. Could Jamie do the same? If he truly loved her before MacGregor cut her then she might have a reason to hope. Men lived with the proof of other men’s possession if their women were widows. Even another man’s child could be a source of joy. But she would have scars, and no one welcomed those.
****
Jamie’s emotional overload drained away on the ride back to MacGregor, leaving him empty and numb. He’d let loose the fury he’d kept bottled up for years, and a man had died. The fact that the man deserved to die—many times over—did little to ease Jamie’s concern about how he’d died. How out of control Jamie had been from the time he’d seen MacGregor kneeling on Catrin’s leg, until MacGregor began his revelations, each word a dirk in Jamie’s heart, until now.
He’d achieved some clarity with the numbness, but the memories were still as sharp a pain in his gut as ever. A reminder of the awful time after his sister’s body had been discovered. The fear in the town of St. Andrews over the deaths there. Someone had kept the mutilations out of town gossip, or Jamie would haveknown.
It all tangled up in his mind like a snarled ball of yarn. What MacGregor had done to Caitrin at his keep. What he was doing to her by the time his men had been subdued. How MacGregor had kept going for Caitrin instead of Jamie, attackingher,again and again. What his father had done to him. To Jamie’s sister. The news of Ewan’s death—and how he had died at MacGregor’s hands. He knew there would be a reckoning, just not yet. He couldn’t think.
The day after MacGregor’s burial, Jamie went before the clan’s elders. He’d expected to have to answer for their laird’s death, perhaps with his own life. But the clan elders had accepted Jamie’s explanation of events and the corroborations of the men who were there to see what MacGregor had done. Fortunately, one of the witnesses was a MacGregor, so it could not be said to have been murder.
One of their own had seen and heard the awful truth.
The men responsible for helping MacGregor torture and murder Ewan had been found and hanged. Even Fletcher’s cousin, who’d betrayed them to MacGregor, had been found. Jamie had been surprised to learn that Malcolm, whom they believed had died for his father’s treachery, was not Rabbie’s son at all, but a fosterling. Malcolm had been the bastard son of MacGregor’s uncle, and a cousin to MacGregor.
There was nothing more to do here.
But they were stuck in the keep until the healer said Caitrin could travel. The makeshift bandaging she’d managed before leaving the cousin’s croft had helped, but the healer feared fever and kept putting fresh poultices on her wounds every few hours. Kyle told him Caitrin accepted it all with grace, but her eagerness to be gone looked more like impatience by now. This keep held nothing but bad memories for all of them.
What should he do about Caitrin? Did he dare approach her? He’d avoided her since their return. Once he’d allowed his rage to consume him, he feared it would it do so again. Would he lose control and hurt her? Could he be a danger to her?He’d rather die.
But after what she’d heard, what she’d witnessed, she might be too terrified of him to ever come near him again. So, it might not matter. He had proven to her, there was more to him than the peacemaker—no longer the lad who’d looked out for her, cared for her, included her when Toran would rather have avoided her. It wasn’t that she’d seen him kill a man. That was a fact of life among the clans. Rather, she’d seen him let his rage master him. How he’d nearly mutilated his prisoner would surely turn her away. It would have been no more than MacGregor deserved for what Jamie suspected he’d done—and what he’d actually done through the years, but Caitrin should never have seen any of that. Their discovery of what MacGregor had suffered as a child made it all the more horrible. It didn’t excuse MacGregor’s subsequent actions, but it did, at least partly, explain them.
The knock on Jamie’s door surprised him. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and he’d demanded to be left alone. He opened the door to find Kyle in the hallway.
“She’s asking for ye,” he said, planting his fists on his hips. “When are ye going to her?”
The corded muscle in Kyle’s neck told Jamie he had been patient as long as he could. Jamie nearly shut the door in his face, something he’d done every time Kyle had disturbed him before this. But the evidence of Kyle’s anger stopped him. He deserved an answer. Kyle had been wearing a path in the stone floor between their chambers these last few days. He’d been acting as go-between, keeping Jamie appraised of Caitrin’s progress, even if he had to shout his report through the stout oak of the closed door. Jamie had no doubt he’d been telling Caitrin Jamie had locked himself away. A pang of remorse speared Jamie’s belly. Caitrin would be worried.
“If ye dinna go see her soon,” Kyle continued when Jamie failed to answer, “the next person knocking at yer door will likely be the lass, and following close behind her, the healer will be mad as a scalded cat. She doesna want the lass walking about just yet.”
Jamie rubbed his unshaven jaw, scraping his palm over the bristles that measured how long it had been since he’d done anything but wallow in his memories and sulk.
“Ye are right. I’ll go. But I’d best clean up first, aye?”
“That’s a brilliant idea.” Kyle’s expression smoothed out and his tone lightened. “I’ll have a tub and hot water sent up for ye.”
“Dinna tell her I’m coming.”
“What? So ye can decide against seeing her, again? Nay, I’ll tell her to expect ye in an hour. Dinna be late.”
“Ye bastard. All right. Now go. And send someone with my bath.”
Kyle laughed his way down the hall as Jamie slammed the door. “Rank interference,” he muttered. But Kyle was right. He was overdue to rejoin the world. He’d grieved for his sister years ago, and again these last few days. He’d have to trust his control of his demons. Caitrin wanted to see him. That should be proof enough she trusted him, despite what she’d seen, more than he trusted himself.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kyle led Jamie to a different chamber than the one Caitrin had occupied before their attempted escape and then took his leave. She waited, dressed and sitting in a chair by a sunny window, when Jamie arrived. She started to push herself to her feet, but Jamie rushed to her, knelt, and took her hand. “Dinna fash, lass. The healer doesna want ye moving about too much yet.”
“Is that what Kyle told ye? Nay, she’s just given me leave to do as I see fit.” The smile she gave him had nothing to do with the healer’s orders. “Ach, Jamie, I’m so glad to see ye.”
“Are ye? After what ye saw? What I nearly did?” The words slipped out before he could stop himself. He knew better than to begin their reunion there, with the horror of those memories, but it was too late. He’d said the thing the plagued him the most, now he’d seen Caitrin was getting well.
