Page 20 of Highland Sword
Isabella’s tone was sharp enough that Morrigan feared she might order Blair to throw Aidan into the dungeons.
“I confess that I am responsible.”
“He’s not.” Morrigan turned to him. “You’re not at fault for this at all.”
“But I am. Clearly and regrettably.”
She ignored him and turned to Isabella instead. “There’s an explanation. Mr. Grant misunderstood my intentions. He thought I planned to do harm to someone.”
“I know now that Miss Drummond was seeing to business of her own. I’m entirely at fault.”
“You, sir, have obviously not visited Dalmigavie’s cells,” she hissed under her breath at him. She turned back to Isabella. “He didn’t hurt me. I tripped and fell. But it’s true, we fought.”
“We didn’t need to. It was wrong of me to interfere.”
Morrigan couldn’t understand why he was being so deucedly agreeable. “It’s completely justifiable to interfere when one sees a person draw a knife on a deserted street. I’d say that’s a reasonable cause for alarm.”
“Not if that person is a woman. You were rightfully concerned when you heard the sound of footsteps behind you. I’ll not have you take the blame for this. You were in the right. I was wrong.”
“But you simply knocked the knife out of my hand. I kicked you in the… the…” She wanted to motion toward his groin area but thought better of it.
Isabella cleared her voice, drawing their attention back to her. She stared at Morrigan, then at Aidan, and then back at her again.
“I suggest you two agree on a story. A good story. A plausible story. Then tell it to anyone who asks.” She shook her head in disbelief and walked away.
Neither said anything until Isabella went into the castle through a door leading to the kitchens.
“I have it,” Aidan said, breaking the silence. “A company of British dragoons. Dozens of them. All drunk. They cornered us. You used your knife. I used my fists.”
With a story like that, Morrigan knew she’d never be able to leave her room, never mind the castle grounds.
“It would be best if you allowed me to handle this. You, sir, cannot be trusted.”
CHAPTER8
AIDAN
While staying at Dalmigavie, Aidan needed a place to work. He had correspondence to keep up and legal briefs to prepare. Searc suggested the small library upstairs from the Great Hall. It had once been the domain of the laird’s sister, who’d been companion to Queen Caroline. Though it was situated next to a drawing room often used by others, the room was quiet, hardly used, and it had a small fireplace to take the autumn chill out of the air.
After dinner, he took his satchel and went up.
His destination was easy enough to find. Passing by the empty drawing room, he was surprised to find the door to the library open and light spilling out into the corridor. He stopped in the doorway.
Bookcases lined one entire wall, and a writing desk stood by one of two heavily curtained windows. Two upholstered chairs flanked a small fireplace that hadn’t been lit, and a table was stacked up with four or five books and a lamp. None of that interested him as much as the figure of the woman standing on a short library ladder againstthe bookshelves. She had her back to him as she reached for a volume, but he recognized her immediately.
“Miss Drummond.” He hadn’t seen her since yesterday.
She almost fell off the ladder but caught herself. Her dark eyes flashed in the lamplight as she turned.
“I’m very sorry.” He dropped his satchel by the door and crossed the room to her. “I didn’t mean to give you a start.”
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t make a habit of sneaking up on people.” She reached up and took down the volume she was after.
“Searc said I’d be safe working up here.”
“If Searc only knew our history.”
The dark blue dress hugged her curves perfectly. Her pretty face still sported bruises from their skirmish. This explained why she wasn’t taking meals with everyone else at the Great Hall. Aidan held up a hand to help her down. Morrigan shot him a look that told him she needed no assistance. He remained rooted on the spot.
