Page 29 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
“Aye,” his father said. “I agree, and if she has the child we’re told about, I ken she would have left the child with someone. Perhaps we should be looking for the child, too. Nay mother would be far from her child—”
“—boy, Faither,” Ethan said.
“A boy child, for too long,” his father ended. “Could it be that the child died?”
“I dinnae ken so,” Mister O’Cain shook his head. “Nay one said anything about the boy’s death. Her husband, Logan Garrow did die, aye, I saw his grave but there was none for his son. And one more thing, I ken there might be another aspect to this murder. There might be someone else than the woman and the murder in between this.”
Ethan and his father shared a look and as the Laird turned his eyes back to the investigator, his chest felt fluttery. Violet had proven herself again, and he was sure that her father had not even spoken to her about it.
God, she is exceptional.
“I agree,” his father nodded. “But we only had a hold on this woman and we have to find her. If ye need me to, I’ll send out me men to all the villages. I’d imagine thirty or fifty men would do a better time scouring the countryside than one man.”
“It could work, but ye would have to do it at once,” Mister O’Cain said, sagging in his seat. “She might hear and run. Send the men out on the morrow.”
Slapping the table, his father nodded, “Will dae. Have ye eaten, Mister O’Cain? I suspect that ye just came off yer horse and came to report.”
“I havenae.” He rubbed his crinkled forehead. “I’ll go in a moment, but have ye seen Violet today?”
“Aye,” Ethan said, “I took her down to the loch today and we took a sail.”
“Thank ye for distracting her again,” Mister O’Cain breathed. “I fear that she might launch herself into this investigation and get herself into trouble. I apologize for taking up yer days, Master MacFerson, but ye are doing a great thing for me, and her too.”
He shrugged, trying to not give the investigator any visible sign that Violet had been in the investigation as long as he was. “It’s nay problem, yer daughter is a very lovely person, with some very intriguing stories too.”
“Eh,” he chuckled, “has she told ye about the time she posed as a gentleman’s daughter to save the real gentleman’s daughter from a man who had vowed to kidnap her, or the time she posed as an assistant at a circus to find who was killing the animals?”
Slowly shaking his head, Ethan grinned, his mind spinning with various and silly, bizarre images of Violet in those situations, “I havenae, but I’d rather hear those tales from her, if ye dinnae mind.”
“Ask her,” her father smiled genially. “I’m sure she will dae a much better recollection than I would and with more vivid words too.”
“Faither, will ye let me go with the soldiers?” he asked.
His lips tightened. “I cannae tell ye now.”
Which was a polite way of saying no. But Ethan was not miffed about it. Perhaps he was stopping him from going to start his induction into the lairdship. “Mister O’Cain would ye mind sharing a meal with me? I stayed away for a while, too.”
“Much obliged,” the man said while heaving himself up from the chair. “Good evening, Me Laird.”
“Ye too, Mister O’Cain,” his father dipped his head, “and ye, Ethan.”
With the older man in step with him, they made it to the kitchens and shared the very same table he and Violet shared many times. Sitting, he called for what was the rest of the clan’s dinner.
The man looked faintly tired, so he dared to ask, “Mister O’Cain, I was truthful when I said that I loved spending time with yer daughter and yer words make me want to ask, how was she as a child?”
“Believe it or nay, she was very quiet,” the man began. “Violet could melt into the background and ye would never ken she was there if ye dinnae look for her or she spoke up. A gift that she probably used to her sometime very reckless activities.”
The servant came and deposited a bowl of beef stew and a piece of bread before them. After thanking her, Mister O’Cain dug in. “I ken that I am at fault for doing so as she stuck to me side for years, listening in to me when I took on me cases. I have a bad habit of speaking to meself, kenning out loud, speculating on what the culprit might have done and why he or she had done it.”
“She?” Ethan asked, breaking his roll of bread. “There are women culprits?”
Nodding, the man laughed, “Ye wouldnae believe it, but women are some of the sneakier perpetrators to dae a lot of heinous acts and are the hardest to track down. We’ve built a manuscript of how they act and how they dae, and found that they use poisons as their medium to kill. A case of a barren woman came to mind. She used poison to kill her sister to inherit their father’s wealth and her husband-to-be.”
Ethan’s felt his stomach roil. “And…and what part did Violet play?”
“She figured the lady was using poison because of her skin tone; it was pale, from lead cosmetics,” he said. “She would mix it with vinegar to make a paste that smoothed out her face. When concentrated, it is lethal and that is how we found the source of the poisoning.”
Shaking his head, Ethan smiled, “I’m just amazed how intuitive she is. Sometimes I feel that she can see right through me at times.”
