Page 17 of Highland Sword
“Should I fetch you another sword from the rack?”
Yanked out of the blur of self-inflicted pain, Morrigan whirled and faced her audience.
Aidan Grant stood at the entrance of the weapons shed, leaning one shoulder against the jamb. She didn’t know how long he’d been there, how much of her fury he’d witnessed. A handful of lads, helpers in the yard and the stables, were watching too.
She stepped back from the pell, her breathing uneven, drops of sweat running down her face. The roaring in her head had started to quiet. In spite of the fiery pain in her arms and shoulders, she was feeling better, more in control of her emotions, more clearheaded about what she needed to do.
“Thank you, but no. I’m finished.”
“Excellent.” He straightened up in the doorway. “Then, since you’re unarmed at the moment, perhaps this is a good time to speak?”
Her nod was curt. He had brought her enemy to Dalmigavie. But she couldn’t blame him. He didn’t know. In the same way, Isabella was clueless as to why she’d charged out of that cottage. There were lies she’d need to tell to protect herself, starting with this man right now.
The truth about what happened to her was painful. But the tragedy didn’t end in Perth. An admission would bring shame to her, to Isabella and Maisie and all the people she now considered her family. She’d be at the very center of a storm. But it wasn’t only her own reputation that she was worried about. She saw how her father had been affected. She wouldn’t put that burden on the women she loved like sisters.
Before she reached the place where she’d tossed her tam and coat, he was offering them to her. Morrigan didn’t want to notice his attempt at either humor or courtesy.
“When we met earlier, you hinted that you wanted to keep our discussions private. Where would you like to talk?”
She donned her coat and pulled on her hat. “The walled garden beside the courtyard.”
Morrigan led the way. It wasn’t the best place. Many members of the Mackintosh household would see them in there. Their conversation might be overheard. The bruises each of them was sporting and the way they’d interacted from the first moment they were introduced would cast her earlier explanation in a bad light. The time had come when she’d need to admit a partial truth about Inverness.
He caught up with her and spoke first once they passed through the stone archway into the garden.
“Your sentiments toward Sparrow are very clear to me. I want you to know that the man is no friend of mine. I personally think him a rogue and a cur, and I say that even knowing now that he’s a relation of yours. But it’s my responsibility to keep him alive.”
Perhaps there was a glimmer of hope for Aidan Grant. “Why?”
“Because I have clients who are about to face a jury in Inverness. This man’s testimony could mean the difference between life or death.”
Morrigan refused to sit when he motioned to a bench. She had a hard time believing there was a shred of humanity in “Sparrow.”
“What is it that he could say in court? Why would anyone believe him?”
“First, is he really your uncle?”
They were again at an impasse. She looked up into his face. Since their meeting outside the cottage, he’d pulled on his coat but still wore no hat. The wind tossed a few strands of dark hair over his eyes. She imagined thatwomen might find the barrister quite handsome when his face was unmarked by bruises and he could see out of both eyes.
“Does it make a difference if he’s related to me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To start, because I’d like to know his real name.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re prepared to present this villain in court as a witness, and you don’t even know his real name? How long have you known him?”
“Two days, not counting written correspondence. We met in person just a few moments before you and I—”
“Had our little disagreement,” she interrupted, finishing his sentence as two kitchen workers walked past them, carrying baskets of cut herbs.
“I’ve known him by reputation far longer. I’ve heard many tales about the damage he’s done.”
“What kind of damage?”
“Ishe your uncle?” he persisted.
