Captured Heart (22 page)

“We can discuss the return of our herds,” Caden said. He released her hand and walked over to Alec, indicating the long table beyond. He never turned around.

Meg stood there with Colin at her side as everyone moved toward the table. Swarms of smiling people moved through the hall, which was thick with excitement and relief. Peace was being forged. Important details and oaths would ensue.

Much more important than one single woman, already forgotten. She was just a tool that helped bring it about.

The future glowed with the bright hope of peace and security for the Macbains. And she was now one of them. Why then did she want to weep?

Chapter Eleven

11 February 1518—Brooklime/Water Pimpernel: blue or pink flowers in early summer. Bruised leaves on burns, swelling, or gout. A brew of leaves and flowers nourishing but bitter. Sweeten with honey.

Found in shallow fresh water streams and rivers fed by walls of water, which slow and freeze in the coldest months, protecting everything behind it.

Caden stood and glanced around at the happiness bubbling around him. The Munro warriors had been allowed inside, depleted of their weapons. People slapped each other on the backs. Whisky and ale flowed freely and food from the interrupted wedding feast was being brought out to share. His people would eat tonight without worry that this might be their last full meal.

Caden’s gaze swung out at the crowd of people and frowned. There was one face missing.

He took a swallow from the wooden quaich and handed it to Alec. Alec took the cup, swore softly, and tipped it back, whisky flowing into his mouth. A loud cheer rose around the table as the peace treaty was ceremonially sealed.

“Sit down, Caden,” Alec said, handing him the quaich. “We have much to figure out between us and I need more whisky to do that.”

Caden took the cup. “No more until we’ve agreed on the details, else you won’t remember them.” His gut gripped tight as he frowned. “Where is Meg?”

Rachel pointed to the hearth. “I thought she walked with us.”

Colin sat down at the table. His eyes locked on Caden’s with a hint of disapproval. “She retired to her rooms.”

Alec bit into a drumstick. “Sit, Caden. Celebrate your peace. You’ve been fighting for it your whole life.”

That he had. Since as long as he could remember, Caden had always questioned the reason for the feud. Long ago as he’d sat on his father’s hairy knee and learned the legend, he’d frustrated his father into shouting with his “why” questions.

Caden slowly sat back down to enjoy the feast, although the joy around him seemed dull without her. “She should be here.”

“Let her rest.” Alec nudged Phillip next to him. “We will discuss your food shortage,” he said, handing Caden another drumstick. “I won’t have my niece going hungry this winter.”

Caden had been waiting to negotiate this topic since he first concocted the plan to steal a country lass from England. Things had worked out so differently than he’d planned. The outcome for his people, though, was the same. For the hundredth time he forced his focus away from his bride and back to his people.

“You have my cattle and sheep, Munro.”

Alec laughed. “That I do, Macbain. How about I return half to you?”

Caden studied the old wolf. This would be enjoyable. “How about I allow half of you to return home?”

…

Caden walked up the dark stairs, leaving the hushed laughter behind. His room was dark, untouched, empty.

“Where are you, lass?” The hollow emptiness of the room mimicked the ache in his chest. He’d held it at bay for the last hour as he worked out the details of the peace with Alec. The only thing they hadn’t agreed upon was the recompense for the burnt harvest because Alec still refused to admit that he’d had a part in it.

Caden leapt up the steps leading to the roof two at a time and pushed into the gusty night chill. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath until he released it with the sight of her.

Meg stared out at the night, her face braced into the wind. He walked up behind her and pulled her against his chest. “We started the day here and now we’re ending it here.”

She stood frozen in his arms. “Yes.” She didn’t turn to him, just stood like a fragile statue wrapped in fur and fine wool.

Caden rested his chin on her head. “The peace is settled.”

“Good.”

“I was just a lad when I swore I’d bring peace.”

“A worthy goal. You must be very happy.”

Happy? He should be uproariously out-of-control happy. How many nights had he dreamed of this day? How many times had he vowed to the frozen ground over his brothers’ graves that he’d end it? Hundreds.

Caden turned Meg in his arms so that she stared at his chest. He lifted her chin with his finger. “Do I look happy?”

She blinked. “It’s dark.”

“Do I sound happy?”

“Perhaps you should return to the celebration. Happiness is lacking up here.”

“Why aren’t ye down at the celebration?”

“I was tired.” She pulled her chin from his grasp, but he wouldn’t let her turn away.

She was tired? Yet he found her up here and not in bed. Pointing out that fact would only irritate her more.

“My people won’t starve this winter.” Caden peered out above Meg’s head. “The peace that I’ve spent my whole life envisioning has just become reality, yet…” He stared back down. “Yet it wasn’t right.”

Meg’s gaze tipped up, and the filtered moonlight reflected in her eyes. “Wasn’t…right?”

“Nay, ye were not there to celebrate it.”

“I didn’t think you noticed.” Meg’s voice was strong, without self-pity, but he heard a small hitch in her words that gave her away.

“I noticed.” He touched her hair as it flew this way and that with the shifting breeze.

He should say more, but what? How could he explain something he didn’t even understand himself? When he’d realized she had left the hall, it had been near to impossible not to follow. Only the constant reminders of his duty to finalize the peace had kept him below for the longest hour of his life. This steadfast desire to see her happy, too, didn’t make sense.

He ran a thumb over her cheek. “Ye are the woman who made the peace possible.”

“We both sacrificed to make this happen.”

Sacrifice? Is that how she saw it? He frowned.

“For I won’t put up with mistresses,” she continued. “You agreed to marry me to forge your peace. Now you’re stuck with me.”

Caden was fairly certain from Meg’s tone of voice that this had to do with more than some imagined threat of a mistress.

She shivered in the cold and all he wanted to do was carry her back to his room and warm her. Right now, she didn’t give any signals that she was remotely willing. Bloody hell, women were complicated.

He replayed her words. Sacrifice, being stuck with her. She was worried about her place here, maybe even about his attraction to her. The thought struck him hard and he thanked God he hadn’t continued to match Alec whisky for whisky, or he may have missed it.

He exhaled. “Nay, lass, ye have no reason to fear mistresses.” He moved his lips closer to her ear. “I’ve thought only of ye since I warmed yer back in the tent each night on the way north.”

She tipped her head to see his expression. Did she search for sincerity?

“I was quite angry about that,” she murmured.

He tried to keep his neutral expression. “Ye did a fine job of letting me know.”

“You’re lucky my wolf didn’t eat you.”

He chuckled, feeling a warmth flow back into him at her lighter voice. When had her happiness become so important? He wrapped her in a hug.

His grin faltered at her still-rigid stance, and he inhaled the sweet scent of her hair. This was not an easy fix. “I am sorry, Meg. I should have told ye, let ye know everything and then decide on yer own. Perhaps…I worried ye wouldn’t choose my plan.”

“I trusted you,” she whispered.

He brushed the top of her head with his chin as he stared, unseeing, across the winter landscape. “Can ye forgive me for capturing ye to force the peace? For not telling ye everything from the start?” He held still, his chin resting on the soft waves. What if she couldn’t ever really forgive him? His gut tightened as he waited.

She nuzzled into his chest. “I suppose I can.”

His chest expanded and he kissed the top of her head. He felt her body relax into his embrace. A beginning.

…

Meg held Caden’s hand as they walked into the great hall the next morning. Aunt Rachel and Uncle Alec sat at the long table with Ewan and Kenneth. Ann and Jonet stood with Evelyn, who held several more links of dried flower garland.

“And just when we thought ye’d sleep the day away,” Ewan called. “Food for the couple. They must be famished.”

Meg blushed but kept her head high. She had nothing to be ashamed of—that was, as long as her screams hadn’t carried below. Just the thought made her stomach clench. They sat at the table and Evelyn brought out some oat porridge and venison.

“Never seen ye sleep past dawn,” Evelyn said to Caden. She winked at Meg. The woman actually winked! Perhaps she’d forgiven her for being a witch after she’d healed Angus and helped end the feud.

Caden’s leg rubbed against Meg’s under the table. “Where are the men?” he asked Ewan.

“Hunting for more game.”

“With the herds returning, we don’t need to send out as many hunting parties. I’d rather keep the men close in case the English decide to brave the cold,” Caden said. “We need to be ready when Boswell decides to show up.”

“Perhaps a response to his letter requesting Meg would be best,” Kenneth said.

“Where to send it?” Caden asked.

“You think he’s close?” Meg asked.

“I do. He thinks ye have something that could hurt him.”

Meg’s gaze switched to Colin. “We need to retrieve those letters. Are you certain they are still up in that cave?”

“As far as I know,” Colin said. “They’re well hidden. I doubt anyone else has found them, especially without the map.” He referred to the key. “The other trails are deadly.”

Meg’s heart sped. “With those letters, Boswell can’t touch any of us.”

“Could ye lead us there?” Caden asked Colin.

“It’s an easy walk up hill…for a Highlander.”

“I could ride Pippen,” Meg offered.

“And there’s a waterfall in front of the cave entrance.”

“Walls of hard water. The phrase is in her journal.” She glanced up remembering. “
An fuar uamh le moran na frith-rathaidean agus an blath cridhe anns am meadhon
,” she recited slowly. “A cold cave with many paths and a warm heart in the middle.”

“The waterfall is difficult to get past,” Colin said. “Even in the summer, when the water doesn’t freeze the skin from yer bones. By this time of year, it’s fed by snow above on the mountain. Soon it will freeze solid until late spring.”

“We also need to travel to Munro Castle before more snow makes it impossible to move the herds and bring the grain wagon,” Ewan said.

“I think I agreed to too much last eve,” Alec grumbled. “Giving grain when we had nothing to do with the fire.” He shook his head. Rachel pressed her finger to her lips in a signal to hush, making Alec frown.

“Says he had nothing to do with it,” said Bruce, “though Angus here saw him.”

“That’s a lie!” Alec shouted, his eyes narrowing on Angus, who turned a mottled shade of red and set his tankard down. “The bastard lies because Rachel chose me over him.”

Rachel let out a loud sigh. “I think my husband should help lead the herds over, don’t you think, Alec? You get cranky when you’re cooped up inside too long.”

“I get cranky, woman, when people lie about me!”

Angus walked down the length of the table toward Caden. Bruce followed and Kenneth straightened as if the three were one, standing against Alec. Alec’s chest puffed up even more, and the tension crackled in the air. Meg’s gaze moved between sides.

“Perhaps we need more whisky,” Rachel said. “Bloody egos.”

Angus glanced at Alec’s fuming face, but focused on Caden. “I…that night…I saw someone out by the field with a torch.”

“A Munro,” Bruce insisted.

“Liar!” Alec threw back and began to slide his reclaimed sword free. Searc stood beside him.

Caden’s hand slapped hard down on the table, making most everyone jump. “Let Angus finish.”

Meg touched Angus’s hand. He certainly had something to tell. The man’s blood raced with almost dangerous speed through his aging veins. His stomach twisted and contracted, as did his bladder and bowels. The muscles in his eyes clenched and Meg could see them twitch every so often.

“Yes,” she said encouragingly, “let him speak.”
Before he explodes
.

Angus swallowed. “I’ve been meaning to say…well, I couldn’t see who it was very well…not at all, actually.”

“Ye said it was Gregor Munro,” Kenneth said.

“Alec’s cousin,” Rachel added for Meg.

“I said I thought it looked like Gregor,” Angus clarified.

“Gregor wasn’t there,” Alec said.

“He would never do something like that without my father’s order,” Searc chimed in.

“Now that I think about it, the man didn’t have Gregor’s height.” Angus squinted and met Caden’s eyes. “I was mistaken. I don’t know who set the blaze, but there was someone with a torch.”

“Well now,” Alec said, his tone coming down two levels. “Angus Riley telling the truth.”

“Thank you,” Rachel added softly with a small smile to Angus, who turned a deeper shade of red.

“And I’m sorry I stabbed ye, Rachel,” Angus added.

“You stabbed my aunt Rachel?” Meg asked. What was their history?

Rachel bowed her head. “An accident, a long time ago. Your mother saved me.”

Alec seemed to growl and Rachel ran her hand along his arm. Could she calm him with a touch?

“Should be apologizing to me.” Alec ran his hand along the scabbard at his waist as if he needed only a flinch from Angus to run him through.

“Angus, Bruce, Kenneth.” Caden interrupted the growing unease. “Let’s discuss who else may have started that fire. Then we’ll plan to travel to Munro Castle. Colin, we’ll discuss retrieval of the letters later tonight.”

Meg rose from the table. “And I had better check on Sarah and the twins.”

“Could ye bring Isabelle’s journal back down?” Colin asked. “I’d like to see it…her handwriting again.”

“We can pick out her clues in the discrepancies, even though we no longer need them.” Meg sighed. They were so close to the letters, yet it would take a small army to reach them safely.

“Very smart, my sister,” Rachel commented as she followed Colin toward the hearth.

“And brave,” Colin added. “And so is her daughter.”

Meg walked to the steps. Brave? Barely. So much had changed in her world over the last weeks. She conjured the little blue orb to illuminate the steps as the torch had been doused in the stairwell. “To think you could do more than light my path,” she whispered to the orb. The sound of voices at the bottom of the steps caused her to douse the light and glance over her shoulder. “Brave? Not very,” she said and hurried up the steps using one hand on the wall as a guide in the darkness.