He took his time in answering her, considering how to respond. It was encouraging to know that he wasn’t the only one out there willing to fight against Baron Dudley, even if they were such limited forces. The McGregor Clan had done all that they could to broker peace. They had sent money and livestock, all in the hopes of ending the Baron’s ceaseless and merciless attacks. It had done nothing but weaken the clan. Anything that he didnot take, Laird McGregor had willingly handed over until they were all destitute.
“The only reason anyone from the Kincaid Clan is still alive is because they had allies with the Fraser Clan. For all the years Lachlan was imprisoned, Laird Fraser kept the few people who survived the attack alive and hidden. They have only returned home. I cannae take that from them now. Arran has been through so much. So have Christopher and Elsie. I could nae bear for them to suffer more.”
“I hear ye, Taryn,” he said, his voice low and serious. “I will do everything I can to keep them safe. I ken well just how important family is.”
Taryn nodded, clearly struggling to accept his answer.
“I should go. My parents will be wondering where I am.”
“Thank ye for bringing me food. The tea was wonderful.”
She handed back the cup, and he settled it on the tray. When she reached to take his coat off, he stood and shook his head.
“Ye keep it. I have others.”
“Thank ye, James.”
He didn’t make any promises to return, nor did he reiterate his promise to keep her friends safe as he left the cell. With the morning sun starting to peek through the small windows at the top of the walls, the depressing state of the dungeon became clearer. Keeping his eyes down, James locked the door and hung the keys where he had found them before turning back towards the rest of the castle, the now empty tray in his hands.
If he saw an old friend or caught anyone's attention on his journey back to the kitchen to deposit the dirty dishes, James didn’t know it. He was too engrossed in his own thoughts to pay attention to anyone else.
It wasn’t clear to him how to reconcile the version of Taryn he’d had in his head all these years with the one he was just getting to know. Was it possible that she was not a selfish andentitled girl, but rather a frightened one who ran for her life? Did her parents’ utter lack of protection convince Taryn that she had no other choice but to run?
As for her newfound family that she was so desperate to protect, it was clear that Taryn believed they would try to fight Baron Dudley. If such a small group of people were willing to take a stand against the Englishman, why were the McGregors so hesitant to do the same? They had lost so much in the name of peace and had gained nothing in return.
The maids bustled around him as James entered the kitchen in a daze. What had been empty and quiet a few hours ago was now a hive of movement. He set the tray down near the sink with all the other breakfast dishes and shuffled towards the back door.
“D’ye go see our girl?”
James spun to find the head cook, Meredith, staring him down with narrowed eyes, a wooden spoon large enough to reach the bottom of the iron pot that hung over the stove waving in her hand.
“Who?”
It was a weak attempt at innocence, but he figured he had to try. Meredith only squinted and waved the spoon more, flinging the morning’s porridge across the room.
“Dinnae pretend with me, lad. Taryn. Did ye bring her some breakfast, or do I need to send a tray?”
“Send a tray,” he answered. “And a kettle of boiling tea.”
Meredith nodded approvingly, though he knew she had already spotted the tray he had brought in. Before either of them could say anything more, a flurry of activity demanded their attention from the other side of the kitchens.
“They’re back! Quickly, the Laird has requested fresh tea and bread for the messengers.”
While Meredith went off on a tirade about how bread can’t be whipped up within minutes simply because a man demanded it, James inched closer, wanting to hear more.
“I am surprised they all made the trip back. That has never happened before.”
“Perhaps it is a sign that the Baron will accept the lass.”
“Perhaps it is a ploy.”
