Page 32 of Falling for Her Highland Steward
“What are you trying to say?” he asked angrily.
Michael kept his gaze on Caillen’s face, then leaned closer so that he was looking into his dark eyes with a penetrating stare. “Are you in love with her?” he asked silkily. “If you are, you should be trying a little harder to win her over.”
“No!” The reply came too quickly, and after it, Caillen ran his fingers back through his thick golden hair in what Michael recognized to be a familiar gesture of agitation.
“I do not believe you,” Michael laughed. “The truth is written all over your face.”
“I am not,” Caillen argued. “And even if I were, it has nothing to do with you. Erin is a free woman, and if she wants to marry Laird Grieve, that is her right. I have no intention of going against her wishes, and I am not telling her that I love her because it is not true.”
“Tell her you love her,” Michael demanded, “so that she will not marry Logan Grieve.”
Caillen stared at the man whom he was rapidly beginning to think of as an enemy. “I will not,” he said at last. “I. WILL. NOT! How dare you ask me to do such a thing? It is completely dishonorable!”
“Oh, please!” Michael scoffed. “You and I both know that you are completely besotted by her! You will only be telling her the truth.”
Caillen stood up, and Michael cringed, then shrank back in his seat. Caillen had learned from an early age that he rarely had to use his fists to defend himself; his size was usually enough to get the job done. Now he glared at Michael then slowly sat down again, holding his gaze.
This time, however, it did not work; Michael knew him too well. He knew that Caillen’s appearance of menace was merely a show, an act that might fool many people, but not someone who had known him for as long as he had. He had backed away, reacting instinctively for a second, but he knew that this big man, his friend, would never harm him.
“Do you remember what I did for you?” Michael’s voice was menacing. “Remember how much silver I gave your father to buy you out of his farm? You would have been miserable there, and your intelligence would have been wasted. Do you know that I paid the priest too? And not the church, before you jump to conclusions. Every penny I paid the priest went into his pocket, and because of my generosity, you could read and write well enough to get into university and come out with fancy letters after your name. And remember the rooms I rented for you? They were not in the dockside slums, were they? And you did not eat scraps from the middens, but good, wholesome food, and plenty of it. Remember that handsome stallion I bought for you from one of the best stables in the city? What was his name again?” He tapped his chin with his finger as if trying to remember.
“Rory.” Caillen’s deep voice was grim.
“Ah, yes, Rory. Beautiful horse, was he not?” He paused for a moment to sip his ale, then went on. “Now, I did those services for you, not out of the goodness of my heart, although I pride myself on being a generous man, but because we could one daybothtake advantage of what I had given you. I do not ask for repayment in silver because that would be too costly. The interest alone would be far beyond your means. No, all I ask for is your assistance. Surely that is not too much to ask considering all I have given you over the years?”
Caillen’s hands were clenched into fists under the table as he glared at Michael, who was sitting back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest, a benevolent smile on his face.
“It is not much to ask,” Michael said, shrugging. “After all, it is the truth. You do love her, do you not?”
“I respect her,” Caillen answered carefully. “She is my employer, and she pays me well and treats me well. I have no say in her personal life; that is her own business.” He drank deeply of his ale so that the rim of the cup would hide his face.
“But she is a beautiful woman, is she not?” Michael asked slyly.
“Of course she is!” Caillen retorted. “No one can dispute that.”
“Then tell her you love her,” Michael demanded. “I refuse to believe it is not true.”
“Because you tell me to?” Caillen was almost laughing at the absurdity of it, even though it was the thing he most wanted to do.
Michael shook his head, then leaned forward, his face so close to Caillen’s that their noses were almost touching. “No,” he replied in a growl, “because it is true, and just in case you deny it again, there is one more reason why you should persuade Erin against marrying the laird.”
“This is getting us nowhere,” Caillen said in deep exasperation. “Tell me.”
“Because I have her son,” Michael answered. “And if you do not persuade her against marrying the laird, then I will kill him.”
Caillen stared at Michael in sheer horror. “You would not—you could not do anything so monstrous!”
“That shows you how little you know me, Cal,” Michael answered, his voice grim and menacing. “I will do what I have to do to achieve my ends. You know I have done it before.”
“To what end?” Caillen asked desperately. “What would you gain by killing an innocent child, especially Stephen?”
“I think you know the answer to that too.” Michael frowned at him fiercely.
“Then I will go back and tell her what you have just told me,” Caillen replied. “What are you going to do to stop me?”
Michael threw back his head and laughed heartily, then his expression turned to one of pure spite. “Because if you do, I will call in your debt. Seven years of board, lodging, and education adds up to a lot of silver, and debtor’s prison is not a pleasant place.”
Michael watched the anger drain away from Caillen’s face to be replaced by a look of defeat. Michael handed him a letter. “Take this to Erin. It has news of Stephen in it—happy news before you accuse me of something heinous.”
