Page 40 of Captured By the Highland Devil
Stepping into the small room with airy windows, Paige found Ruben standing at a window and staring out. He looked ... so grave, so alone. As if he carried the weight of the world upon his broad shoulders.
His father was sitting in a large chair, with pillows behind him and his cane by his side. Ruben’s man-at-arms, Galan, was standing guard in the corner silently.
“Lady Paige,” Niall said, “T’is good to see ye and ye too, Lady Daisy. I hope ye are settlin’ into to our home.”
Daisy brightened. “Yer home is wonderful, so warm and welcomin’.”
“That’s good to hear,” Niall said. “I hear a fair is comin’ to the village. It might be good for ye to enjoy yerself when the chances come about.”
Paige smiled, but it was tenuous. “I’ll consider that, thank ye.”
Ruben turned from the window and pulled out two chairs. “Ye should sit.”
As Daisy sat, Paige rested her hand on his shoulder. His shoulder was tense under his plain brown tunic. “Are ye all right?”
“Aye,” he said, nodded to a chair. “I called ye in here because I need to tell ye the truth of the war. I cannae have ye, the lady of the clan, thinkin’ we are brutes to start a war for nay reason. The war was started, lass, because yer father lost a wager and dinnae pay up graciously.”
“A wager—” Paige asked, her gaze moving from the older man to Ruben then to her mother. Staring at her mother, she asked. “Did ye ken about a wager, Maither?”
Daisy shook her head.
“Lies,” Paige said stubbornly. “I daenae believe ye.”
“It’s true, Paige,” Ruben said.
She notched her head up. “I daenae believe ye. What wager?”
“Half a year before the war, yer father, me and few more lairds were celebratin’ the summer festival and he was drinkin’,” Ruben said. “Yer father is nay strategist when he is sober, but when he is drunk, he is an easy mark, especially at cards.”
“Yer father made a wager, one he recanted, but one that was already written and agreed to,” Niall said, slipping a piece of parchment to them. “Forgive the handwritin’, men daenae write their best when they are drunk with whisky. Yer father’s signature is at the bottom.”
Tentatively, Paige reached for it and read, “Upon the honor of both men, Laird McKinnon and Laird MacPherson, a wager is set. The terms are for the northeast lands of the MacPherson clan, including the mineral mines, against a chest of gold from Laird McKinnon. Both parties agree to settle their debts to the winner upon the end of the last hand.”
Paige’s stomach twisted, “What…” her eyes dropped to the bottom of the page to see two signatures. “…Angus Bradley, Laird MacPherson, Ruben Miller, Laird McKinnon.”
“I won the hand,” Ruben said. “He dinnae want to give the lands he’d agreed to. When he would nae heed to me orders, we’d tried to mediators first, and then we got the sheriffs involved in the matter and they warned him. MacPherson sent the head of one of the sheriffs back to us and that is when we declared war.”
Sickened, but still doubtful, Paige said. “Me father wouldnae do that.”
“I kenned ye would need the witnesses,” he said, then nodded to Galan.
Bowing, Galan left the room, but Paige was more concerned with the hastily scribbled noted before her. Could it be true? She knew her father’s handwriting, and that was it, plain before her face.
Still, she did not— could not stomach the thought that her father had lied to her.
Her eyes flickered up when two men came into the room behind Galan, but did not pay attention to anyone of them—until Ruben barked.
“Eli? What are ye doin’ here? I sent for the witnesses to the signin’ and ye were nae a part of that night.”
“With all due respect me laird,” this Eli said. “But I ken a lot more than that.”
Curious, Paige lifted her eyes—and her vision peppered with black. Her breath grew short and she grabbed at the arm of the chair where she sat on. When she finally managed to master her breath, she cried out, “Elijah!”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Ruben’s head snap to the man in the room. She lurched out of her chair, pain filling her voice, “I thought ye were dead!”
Coming to her side, Elijah took hold of both her arms and gently sat her back on the chair. Cold all over, Paige stared at him as if he were a specter from the grave.
Her voice cracked as she reached over to touch his face. “Ye’re---ye’re alive? H-how?”
