Page 26 of When a Highlander Vows
“Aye.”
“Good. Come, we will talk in here.” He led the way, and Archie closed the door behind them.
On his desk, the whisky had been replaced after he drank it all the night before, and gratefully, he poured them both a cup.
Passing the cup to his second-in-command, he said, “Have ye any ideas about the two men?”
He was glad Archie did not ask him about Caitlin or how being locked in the garden had gone last night.
Sitting down, Archie frowned. “Nay. It could be two very skilled cutpurses, or two soldiers having been kicked out of their army or clan. They wore no colors or symbols.”
Lucas stayed standing, pacing while he sipped from his cup. “Aye. It is strange, but perhaps it has somethin’ to do with the skirmishes on the border? I never paid them much thought until now. I thought it was the usual fighting that happens betweenclans, certain groups angry about borderlines.” He shrugged. “Perhaps there is some animosity? But I cannae think of any clan in particular that would have such a hatred for me they should leave soldiers to lie in wait. Those men meant to kill us, Archie, nae simply to maim.”
He finished his whisky and poured another. Archie thought for a moment before he spoke again.
“But when ye are the strongest laird in the western part of the Highlands, yer land holdings bigger and wider than any of the other clans, ye are sure to make enemies. And yer father ruled with violence, hurtin’ many others as he did ye. Surely there are those still alive who wish to take revenge?”
“Aye, I suppose.” This time Lucas sat down and rubbed at his rough chin, deep in thought.
His father had been a very cruel man both as laird and as a father. He believed that violence brought about a certain end, and he didn’t care to whom he applied this principle. Lucas, only knowing his own experience had thought the violence more harshly applied to him. But there could have been others. People taken prisoner, tortured, killed for sport.
“Well, whatever the reason, I want us to go tomorrow. To leave to deal with the skirmishes and remain a few days to make sure these issues daenae continue to happen.”
Archie sat forward, his eyebrows lifting. “All right, but why rush off? Like ye said, the skirmishes are likely nay emergency, and…ye have a guest to attend to. A woman still grievin’ her brother, and ye are still grievin’ as well.”
Lucas stood again, drinking down the contents of his cup and slamming it on the table.
“I daenae wish to remain imprisoned by me grief, Archie. I still need to go and dae things, to act as laird. And Caitlin as well. She will make a new life for herself, but it is nae I who needs to help her to dae it. Me Nan will be her comforter now.”
He could see Archie’s look out of the corner of his eye. Sighing, he turned to face him.
“What is it?”
“What?” Archie asked innocently, the hint of a grin on his face.
“What are ye goin to say? There is nay way in Hell I could say somethin’ like that without ye havin’ an opinion on it. Especially with this lass. Everyone seems to have an opinion about her and how we should treat her while she’s here.”
His man-at-arms was a true Scot with his shock of bright red hair and beard. Burly arms and a ready smile. Far too ready in Lucas’ opinion.
“Well—” Archie began, and Lucas let out a bitter laugh.
“Ye see?” He walked to the hearth and picking up a poker began to shift the logs on the fire, embers sparking into new life.
“I dae think that ye could be kinder to the lass. Every time she is near, ye have a scowl on yer face.”
“I always have a scowl on me face, Archie. Her bein’ here doesnae affect that.”
Archie chuckled, and Lucas envied him for his constant mirth. Archie made life look so easy, and why should it not be for a man who had everything he wanted? He had not suffered as Lucas had even if they had both seen battle and death.
“Aye, but I ken yer grandmaither wants ye to be a proper host. Besides, the lass is the only one who kens yer grief. Kens it more so. Ye could share that together. She is a nice lass, dae ye nae think?”
Lucas grit his teeth. Nice did not even begin to describe Caitlin MacLennan. It was not good enough a word or full enough. He spun around to face Archie.
“What of it? It doesnae matter what I think of her. I simply made a vow about keepin’ her safe, and I should keep it. Now, make the preparations to leave tomorrow, and we will go for a few days. It will be a good thing for her. She will get to ken the castle on her own, and she and Nan can spend time together. If I even wanted to be kinder or to play a proper host, I can tell ye she would nae want me to. She thinks little of me as it is.”
The reminder of how she’d whispered “Kiss me” by the sea flashed through his mind, but he pushed it away and poured himself a third whisky. Before the day’s end, he planned to be very, very drunk. It would hopefully blur the memory of how her lips felt against his.
“Very well, Me Laird,” Archie said, standing, folding his hands in front of him. “All will be as ye say.”
