Page 65 of Fire in his Highland Heart

“Arguen, ‘tis good tae see ye alive an’ well. I worried for ye,” Malcolm said.

“I made it tae Ernmore Castle just fine. The laird there was kind an’ welcoming,” she answered.

Blake still was frowning, and when he spoke, it was with that cold tone he’d used on her when they first met. “She wasnae just fine. My guards found her half-dead on the moors, escapin’ whatever fate had for her here.”

“Then why’re ye back?” Malcolm asked.

“Malcolm, I’m afeared we have unsettling news for ye,” Arguen said, and stepped forward. “An’ it’ll be hard tae hear, but I promise ye, ‘tis true.”

The laird gulped nervously again. “What is it?”

Arguen opened her mouth to break the news gently, but Blake cut in, much to everyone else’s shock. “Yer wife isnae who she says she is,” he said bluntly.

Malcolm stumbled back and fell into his chair. “What...what do ye mean?”

“Because she used tae be mine,” Blake answered.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The whole room was left in stunned silence for a few moments. Only the sound of the crackling fire and the howling of the wind outside was audible as Malcolm pondered Blake’s words.

“I dinnae understand…ye an’ her...were married?”

“Aye. Only back then she went by Cataline. Now, I wonder if even that was her real name,” Blake said with a snort of disgust.

Malcolm looked helplessly at each of them, as if one of them would jump in and say no, it isn’t true; we’re here to surprise you, don’t listen to him. But no one did, making him look all the more bewildered.

“So…’tis true, then?”

Right then, James spoke up. “Aye. Malcolm, I was here a couple weeks ago tae see Douglas and tell him how Arguen was farin’. I stayed overnight in the castle—on me way back tae the room, I heard voices. Yers, and Cataline’s. I didnae want ye tae see me, especially if it truly was Cataline, so I hid in a spare room off the corridor. I listened...and saw through the keyhole. Yer Marianne is definitely Blake’s former wife, Cataline.”

Malcolm looked as if he’d been slapped across the face, hard. “That was ye in the room?” he asked abruptly.

“Ye saw me?”

“Aye, I thought I saw somethin’ move behind the keyhole an’ heard some rustlin’. But...what did ye do then?”

James shrugged and answered as if it were the most obvious thing on the globe. “I slept an’ left early the next morn. Rode back tae tell Blake what I saw.”

Malcolm sighed deeply, and was silent for a few moments. “Ye couldn’t have written tae me?” he asked, trying to make light of a horrible situation.

“I couldnae risk it,” Blake answered shortly. “I thought there might be a chance that Cataline would read yer post an’ burn the letters, so ye would never ken, or do even worse.”

“And there was the chance ye might not believe us,” James answered.

The news was obviously hitting Douglas hard as well, and he sank down into one of the dusty, rickety chairs by the small hearth. “James, ye could’ve told me. I could’ve told Malcolm, saved him a mess.”

“But would Malcolm have believed ye, Douglas? I’m not sayin’ yer not trustworthy—ye helped me escape, after all. But sometimes ‘tis best tae hear difficult truths from the source.”

Douglas nodded, still clearly processing the news.

“Mayhap ye can fill in some of the gaps. Malcolm, when did ye an’ Cataline, or Marianne, I reckon, meet, and how did we get tae this place in life?”

Malcolm took another deep breath and began the story. They’d first met at a fair when they were younger, but never got far enough with each other to learn anything about the other. Cataline was only fourteen and had fallen hard for this young laird’s son, but her father had her betrothed to another man instead. Malcolm knew not what had happened to her, but he had not disliked her when talking to her. And truth be told, he did find her very pretty and well-spoken, and had expressed that he’d like a wife like her one day. But that was all. He never saw her again after that summer. Or so he thought.

“So... how did ye end up marryin’ her?” Malcolm asked. Arguen could tell he felt awkward asking the question, and one could cut the tension in the room with a knife; it was that thick.

“Several years ago, my father told me ‘twas time tae marry. I didnae care tae, but I loved my father dearly an’ I wanted so badly tae be a good son tae him. He held feasts and things tae help me find someone. After a while, he chose Cataline for me. We grew intae companionship. ‘Twas slow. But she was difficult...cold one minute and passionate the next. I didnae ken what tae think. We tried tae...” Blake gulped, as this was a rather personal admission, “have wee bairns together, but she lost the first one. We only ever had one child together, Mirellain. When our daughter was nigh on a year old, Cataline left. Took everythin’ wi’ her, even her English servants. Only told me she was leaving because she couldnae bear tae be my wife any longer. Never said why, though now I see the reason,” he said, looking at Malcolm with a furrowed brow. Malcolm only looked down in shame. “We went out search parties for her, all over Scotland, for months. She must’ve gone back tae England before she came here, using the name Marianne and startin’ over.”