“If no’ fate, then what?” she asked, curious of his answer.
“I dinna ken. Luck, which I guess one could chock up to fate. I just ken that I willed this meeting. I played it o’er and o’er again in my mind. I didna ken where. Or when. But I kenned ’twould happen.”
He reached over and gently held her hand, his thumb idly caressing her fingers.
Frissons ran up her arm, causing her to shiver.
His brows creased in concern. “Are ye chilled?” He moved to get up. No doubt to find her something to guard against the chill.
“Nay, I am fine, thank ye. I must confess that I also wished for us to meet. I thought ’twould be at Culzean, though.”
“Ye were traveling to Culzean?” he asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.
She nodded.
“Alone?”
“Nay, Mary is with me.” She stated, confused as she knew he had seen her maid earlier.
Narrowing his eyes, he searched her face. “Isna that how we first met? Ye traveling alone with just your maid? Wait. Do your parents ken ye are traveling?”
“Aye.”
Relief washed over him.
“And nay.”
His shoulders collapsed and he hung his head for a moment before meeting her gaze again. “Lass, will ye ne’er learn? ’Tis dangerous for ye to travel alone.”
“Mama and Papa believe I am visiting a friend nearby. Howe’er, out of character for them, they offered the phaeton and a coachman for the trip.”
“For your safety?”
She shrugged. “Mayhap. Things have been,” she paused, searching for the right words, “things have been strained since, well, ye ken.”
“Lass.” He squeezed her fingers, as if trying to send all of his emotions through his hand to her. “I—”
Shaking her head, she pulled her hand back, and tucked a loose wisp of hair behind her ear, then folded her hands on her lap.
“The tension at Tolton Hall has naught to do with ye.”
He didn’t look convinced as he opened his mouth to say something.
“Dinna speak, please. Let me say what I have to say.”
She could see the muscle in his jaw clench, but he remained silent, nodding for her to continue. That he listened and granted her what she asked, meant so much to her. It showed that he respected her.
“When I woke up that morning, I went downstairs to break my fast, expecting ye to be there along with Mama and Papa. I was determined to get to the bottom of whate’er ’twas that ye had alluded to the night before. When ye werena there, I just figured ye were sleeping in.
“Papa told me to have a seat, and that’s when I learned the truth about Angus.”
A pained look crossed his face and she hurried to reassure him.
“I dinna blame ye, Malcolm. I need ye to understand that. The tension at home was my fault, but ’twas because I was angry at my parents. I was so verra angry that they had lied to me all those years. It explained why they’d ne’er spoken about my brother after his death. They told me he’d died a hero, and then no other conversations were e’er had. Any time I tried toinitiate one, they dodged the subject.” She paused and took a long swallow of wine.
“’Twas kind of them to try to protect the memories I had of Angus, but I felt like a fool. Walking around all these years thinking he was the bravest man. When he was in fact the opposite. So, nay, I dinna blame ye for the cause of his death. He brought that all on himself. He kenned the risks, and yet he still moved forward with whate’er reprehensible plan he had formed in his mind.”
“’Twas still your brother,” he said quietly, his voice solemn and laced with guilt.
