Page 45 of A Wife for the Highland Wolf
The name was enough to almost overset her. Lydia clung desperately to the dignity and strength she’d developed from dealing with her own cousin years ago. “I havenae seen him, and I daenae care to. Nor do I think he has any interest in seeing me.”
“Ye daenae ken that.” Wilma looked at her, her expression gentle.
“If he cared, he wouldnae be sendin’ me away in this manner, without even a word to plead me case. If he cared he would be here to see us off, nae hiding wherever he is.”
“He’s in his study, drinking like a fool.”
“Then he can stay there, for all I care.” Lydia bit her lip. “If he’s nae goin’ to apologize or explain or change his mind, then there’s nothing I want to say to him, nor hear from him either.”
“Tis fair. I cannae say I like it, but ye’re correct that me cousin is acting a fool.” Wilma sighed. “If that’s the way of it, then best we get on the road. I’ve said me farewells already, and cook has packed us a basket for the noon meal, so the sooner we leave, the sooner ye’ll be home, and I can meet the sister ye were tellin’ me about.”
Lydia nodded and forced herself to focus on the prospect of introducing Nora to Wilma. She was sure the two would get along quite well. Wilma shared Nora’s passion for learning and healing, and she could imagine her sister would be glad to pass on all she’d learned, if only to have another healer in the region who could help lessen the burden of her duties.
As they clambered into the carriage, she saw Finn and his nurse emerge to see them off, followed by Wilma’s father and brother. But though she searched doorways, shadows and windows of the castle, Lydia saw no sign of Murdoch.
He obviously had no intention of seeing them off. Lydia fought back tears of hurt and indignation. It was bad enough that he’d not even do her the courtesy of saying farewell, but she was furious that he had so utterly neglected to see his cousin on her way.
Ye’ve made yer choice, Murdoch Nairn. I hope tis one that makes ye happy.
24
Murdoch listened to the sound of hoofbeats and creaking wheels fading into the distance. He hadn’t gone to watch his cousin and Lydia depart; he’d been afraid that if he actually saw them leaving, he wouldn’t be able to maintain his resolve.
He wanted Lydia safe, and having Wilma out of the way was an unexpected benefit to his decision to dismiss his betrothed and dissolve the contract. That didn’t stop him from wanting, with every fiber of being, to follow after them, wrap his arms around Lydia and refuse to let her go.
He’d done what he could to protect them both, but he wasn’t sure Lydia would ever forgive him.
Still, what was done, was done. All he could do next was see if his suspicions were accurate, and decide what course of action he would take if they were.
Twenty minutes later, his cousin and uncle both entered the office. Arthur looked restless and tired. In contrast, Gordon looked troubled.
Murdoch waited until the door shut before he spoke. “What did ye find out from the village folk?”
“Nae much.” Gordon shook his head, frustration etched on his face . “There was little to nay rumor of an attack coming. Until they drew weapons, everyone at the festival thought they were merely random travelers or visitors from distant villages.”
“Aye. The guards said there was nay warnin’ as well, as did the scouts.” Murdoch folded his arms.
“An attack like that with nay warnin’? How is that even possible?” Gordon shook his head. “What’s happenin’ in the clan?”
“Tis a good question. Might be best to ask yer faither.” Murdoch said grimly. “He kent that we’d be attacked, and when.”
“How can ye say that, me Laird?” Arthur’s voice was full of wounded anger. Murdoch didn’t trust his offended tone for one second. “I told ye, the villagers escaped to tell us what was happening.”
“I spoke to the gate guards and the watchmen, and they said nothin’ of the sort occurred. Besides, the village is too far awayfor someone to have reached ye, reported the information, and left again.”
“Me men were watching the festival. Nay one escaped.” Gordon’s voice was uneasy with uncertainty.
“And yet, when I arrived with Lydia and Wilma, ye asked me if we were all right. Ye had kent we’d been attacked even though it was clear nay alarm had been sounded.”
Murdoch scowled at his uncle, wrapping himself in his anger to try and mask the pain of his betrayal. He knew Arthur hadn’t always approved of him and the way he’d acted as laird, but he’d never thought him capable of outright betrayal of his own kin.
The words yet unspoken had to be said. “Ye planned the attack, Arthur, admit it. And do tell me, uncle, were ye behind the attack that killed me first wife and nearly me son as well?”
An attack without witnesses, no bodies left behind. Murdoch had been too distraught to pay heed to his uncle’s actions or whereabouts , but it wouldn’t have been hard for the older man to remove the evidence of an attack in order to cast the suspicion on him.
Looking back, so far as Murdoch knew, Arthur had never openly decried him as a murderer, but he’d never helped to silence the rumors and whispers either, and had never protested when the Elders tried to have him removed from the lairdship.
Arthur didn’t answer but his silence, and the expression on his face, was answer enough. “Why?”
