Darach shrugged. “There must be someone else incriminating him. Might be akinglyploy tae break the alliance.”
“‘Tis madness!” Morven exclaimed. “We ken too little of this matter, and that is dangerous for us. One of us will need tae speak tae the daughter and gain as much information as possible.”
“Ye’d have nae success with that. She wouldnae even give me her name.”
“I’ll get it,” his brother muttered.
Morven’s three simple words spelt that he was determined, and Darach knew his brother would go to the most extreme lengths to get what he wanted. He feared for Jane. Morven had a beast in him too. It was the Robertson curse.
Darach stared grimly at his brother’s back as Morven made his way toward the door, unable to formulate a response because of the growing worry in his chest. He wanted information from Jane but not at the expense of her safety.
“I’ll ask her, nae that she kens anything, in my opinion,” he called out.
“Darach?” Came Morven’s small whisper at the doorway.
“I traveled this far with her. I ken the lass and how tae get the report we need, if she truly kens a thing. Ye would be too hard on her, Morven.”
“She’s but an enemy within our walls, Darach,” his brother said in disgust, “and she should be treated like one. What the hell are ye trying tae do with her? Kenn is in a dungeon, and she is being treated like a princess!”
Darach held up his hand, and his brother ceased speaking immediately. He turned and stalked away, needing some distance and solitude to take in the magnitude of what he had to do.
Nothing was Jane’s fault, yet hehadto put his weakness for her aside and do the best for his clan. Her father had made things difficult and had sparked hostilities all his life. It was Darach’s job now to right his wrongs.
What a damnable mess this whole thing is. How could MacThomas have done this? Surely he understands the future he is consigning all of us to!
After walking down the narrow hallway from the great hall, Darach enteredthe small antechamber. The room had been darkened, the curtains not yet been drawn back from the windows. He chose to leave them soand instead lit a candle from one of the hallway wall holders.
The glow from the candle did little to illuminate the room, but he found his way to the sturdy table where his uncle had sat many a night scratching his quill over ledgers. The old man had been the one who kept things running while his father had drunk his days away and whored at night. Alastair had been a steadfast, scrutinizing man who had held up the clan’s account and raised his brother’s children, even when he had none of his own. He had had a heart the size of a mountain, and was fair, always ensuring everyone had what they needed. Darach missed him every single day. At difficult times, what he asked himself always was,What would Alastair do?
Darach sank heavily into the chair and ran his hands over the aged wood, almost as if he could feel the essence of his uncle in the room.
He had to find a way to do things the right way.
* * *
When a hard rap sounded on her chamber door, Jane knew who it was before she pulled the door open. The Laird of Clan Robertson was standing right there on her doorstep along with his brother and Lorna.
“May I come in?” the laird asked.
“I somehow believe my answer would hold nae weight in what ye do in yer keep, my laird.”
Darach’s eyes narrowed as he studied her further. Worryingly, his eyes carried an emotion she couldn’t understand. The brother—she recalled his name was Morven—also didn’t look too pleased. Lorna was the only one who smiled at her reassuringly.
Morven scoffed. “My brother would like tae be the one tae speak tae ye, lass. I could have him questioning ye properly instead, but we’ll see how far yer sharp tongue takes ye with him to start.”
One look at Morven sent shivers down her spine. He was scowling, and his face was as dark as a thundercloud.
Jane blinked and took a step back from the door. When they entered the room, the other two stood behind Darach, keeping a close eye on her as she walked back to the edge of the bed. Her gaze darted around the room.
She tried to look anywhere but his face.
“Ye will look at me,” Darach said.
His voice startled her, and she muttered a curse as her shoulders sagged. She’d spent the whole day trying to plan her escape and had been able to come up with nothing. Now her courage had run out, and her determination not to feel pain—not to allow herself to wither before him—was all but gone.
Her legs shook, her hands trembled, and pain speared through her foot, making her gasp softly with each breath. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, but she wasn't going to back down. She couldn't figure out why the laird was angry at her. He was the one who had locked her in a room and kept her waiting for hours before he came to see her.
The room had been silent all day, but now it seemed even more heavy as Darach’s dark eyes stared at her. He was forcing her to crane her neck upward to meet his stare. She opened her mouth to ask why he was there, but she snapped her lips shut again, determined she wouldn’t say a word until he spoke first.