Page 66 of Fire in his Highland Heart

Malcolm’s face was white as a sheet. “I... I’m so sorry, Blake. Genuinely, I had no thought that somethin’ might be amiss. We were married three years ago.”

Blake nodded solemnly. “She’s played both of us well, but dishonored herself. We need tae expose her for who she is,” he said icily.

Malcolm chewed the inside of his mouth. “She can have a fearsome temper,” he warned.

“Och, I ken. But she is not queen, and she can still answer tae the laws of the land. I have a feeling our lad, King James, may have our sympathies,” Blake said wryly.

At that moment, their little moment of possible victory stopped as they heard a shrill English voice in the stone corridor outside.

“Malcolm? Malcolm, are you in there? To whom could you possibly be speaking?” she asked through the door.

Each one of them froze. There was no time to hide, nowhere to go and get away. Arguen was seated in a chair by the fire, her back to the door, and Douglas was directly across from her. He nodded as if to reassure her, for she was sure her eyes were wide with fright at hearing her voice again.

Blake and Malcolm were seated in the rickety chairs across from Malcolm’s desk, sitting as if held fast by some invisible anchor. The latch turned, and Marianne came in.

“Oh, dear me, I did not realize you had guests. You know, you ought to warn me when...” her voice caught in her throat when Blake stood up, drawing himself to his full height, and turned around to face her. Her face went white as snow, and for once in her life, she was speechless. Arguen saw a look in Malcolm’s eyes she had never seen before—pure, fiery anger. He had always been so mild-mannered and sweet; she had never seen him livid before.

“Cataline,” he said in a stony voice, “I think ‘tis time we had ourselves an honest conversation, eh?”

The Englishwoman fainted right there on one of the fur pelts covering the stone floor. Arguen herself felt a little lightheaded, and that nauseated feeling was coming back. Bile rose in her throat, but she forced herself to keep it down. This was enough excitement as it was.

“Should someone fetch smelling salts?” James asked tentatively.

“Eh. This might be one of her antics. Give it a minute,” Blake answered coldly. Malcolm agreed with him.

After a few very uncomfortable minutes, in which they all stood round to see if Marianne/Cataline would wake, Malcolm had Douglas fetch the smelling salts. They needed their questions answered.

* * *

None of the men would do it, so Arguen administered the salts when her brother brought them back. In a matter of moments, the Englishwoman awoke, gasping and thrashing about wildly. She’d always had a flare for the dramatics, as far as Arguen could remember.

“How...what is...” suddenly her gaze fixed on Arguen, and her eyes narrowed into angry little slits.

“You…” she seethed. “The WITCH!” she shouted, and tried to claw at Arguen’s face. Arguen yelped in surprise but held her wrists back, pinning her to the ground.

“Stop it! I mean ye no harm! Ye just fainted an’ I revived ye,” she tried to explain, but Marianne/Cataline was thrashing about like a fish out of water. Douglas had to pull Arguen away, and Malcolm stepped in to control his wife.

“How is the witch here? Why is she back?” the Englishwoman demanded to know, still writhing in Malcolm’s grip.

“I thought ye’d be more surprised tae see me,” Blake offered, his voice as smooth as iron cloaked in velvet.

Marianne-Cataline swallowed. “I do not know who you are. We have not been introduced,” she insisted.

“Cataline, the charade is over. I ken everything,” Malcolm said dully.

“Husband, you must be going mad! Of what do you speak?”

“Och, give it up, Cataline. ‘Tis no use pretendin’. We’ve caught ye in yer web of lies, ye conniving wee spider,” Blake hissed.

“I simply don’t know to what you’re referring,” Cataline insisted.

“Ye’d leave a husband an’ child behind for someone else, and make his life a living hell, too? I kent ye were cruel, but ‘til now I kent not how cruel. She was barely a year when ye left,” Blake said, not as menacing this time, but still in a tone that conveyed he was not to be crossed.

“Not tae mention bigamy is punishable with extreme measures in Scotland,” Malcolm added. “An’ I ken I won’t be the offending party.”

Cataline’s shocked and surprised expression melted suddenly into that icy, yet sickeningly sweet expression with which Arguen was familiar. Manipulation at its best. “You cannot prove a single word you’ve said,” she declared haughtily. “Malcolm, I have loved you and only you. You cannot be serious!”

With a sigh, Blake pulled out a worn looking piece of parchment and held it up. Arguen watched all of this helplessly from the chair by the fire, now confident that Cataline was restrained and would not try to scratch her eyes out again.