Page 57 of Stealing Sophie
“What have you heard of him?” Connor asked warily.
“He was taken to the Perth. I only heard he did not do well due to his wounds.”
“How does he fare now?”
“I do not know. I am sending a messenger to inquire. I promised Miss MacCarran to get word of her brother. Let us pray the news is not tragic. But now I have to find the girl as well. Curse you Highlanders and your rebel souls. What do you know of this?”
“If there was a commotion at the bridge, perhaps her horse ran off with her,” Neill suggested.
“We have been searching ever since the night she went missing. She is not lost, I think. Clearly stolen away. We could use your knowledge of the region, MacPherson.”
“I am sure General Wade’s soldiers know this glen well enough by now.”
“Tell me—have you seen anything amiss? Odd behavior? Highland treachery?”
“Nothing so bad as that,” Connor said.
“I will count on it, sir. Anyone with your history would be suspect, though after your family’s comeuppance at the hands of the government...though you had an admirable record in the service, to be sure. And I would wager you would not dare to step out of line, as they say.”
“Indeed,” Connor said.
“Just a small laird with a bit of rundown property, eh? Suits you. I understand you trade in cattle stock too.”
“Some.”
“A smart man would watch his step carefully and avoid trouble. And a former regimental officer would not forget his loyalty and obligation.”
“I am aware of my loyalties,” Connor said.
“MacPherson was such a fine soldier that General Wade himself asked that he return to service with theAm Freiceadan Dubh,” Neill added with pride.
Connor did not move an eye or a muscle, but wished Neill would be silent.
“I am aware of your fine record with the Black Watch,” Campbell said. “I am also aware of your family’s history. I keep both in mind. You are fortunate to have the good opinion of General Wade. You may need it someday.”
Connor inclined his head. “Perhaps.”
Campbell gathered his reins. “I will interrogate the MacCarrans again, the ones who were with her. They have denied it, but they may have had a hand in it.”
“What reason would they have to take a cousin?” Neill said, then saw Connor’s frown. “Och, it may be her kin did it,” he added.
“Possibly they do not approve of a match between Miss MacCarran and myself.” Campbell preened a little as he sat straight in the saddle. Connor stared. It was like watching a fat sparrow puff himself up.
But he saw something in the man’s eyes, Connor realized, that he did not like—a darkness there, cold and flat, like a snake, blending with its environment, but carrying a killing sting if it pleased.
“If you interrogate the MacCarrans, what then?” Connor asked.
“If I decide they are involved, they can join their chief in the tolbooth. I will tear apart every house in this glen, burn them if I must, to find where that girl is hidden.”
“I see.” Connor could not allow others to take the blame for what he had done. “The MacCarrans are not responsible for the girl’s disappearance.”
“Eh? What makes you sure of that?”
“MacPherson knows naught—” Neill began.
“I took her that night.”
“You!” Campbell leaned forward, glowering. “Why did you not say so earlier?”
