Margo Maguire (19 page)

“Ach, ’tis naught. What d’ye suppose will happen if the laird dies?”

Anna shuddered. Catrìona would marry one of her suitors. If she chose Macauley, the island would languish. It would be subject to more attacks like the one that had occurred the previous summer.

Of course Catrìona would marry Lachann MacMillan, and life on Kilgorra would improve. For all but Anna.

Flora tapped her fingers on the table, frowning, deep in thought. “Lachann MacMillan still knows naught of Catrìona’s men, does he?”

Anna felt as distraught as Flora seemed to be. No one on Kilgorra wanted to scare Lachann away with tales of Catrìona’s promiscuity. The people had made their decision about Macauley, and they wanted Lachann to toss the pompous neep from the isle, marry Catrìona, and assert his rights as her lawful husband.

“Ach, if Catrìona has the sense God gave her, she will choose MacMillan,” Flora said, wiping her hands on her apron, “much as I know the lad does’na deserve such a fate.”

Aye, ’twas exactly what Anna feared. But if she hoped otherwise, she would be betraying everyone on Kilgorra.

Chapter 29

T
he afternoon had turned warm, and the mist had burned off the higher lands by the time Lachann got back to the castle. The first person he saw on his way to the stable was Catrìona, coming toward him from the old chapel.

“Catrìona!” he called to her as he dismounted.

She stopped and gave him a wan smile. “Lachann! Did you know my father was injured last night?”

“Aye. I’ve seen him.”

“And did you—”

“What I’d like to know is when you saw Cullen Macauley last.”

“Cullen? Why, I—”

“Did you leave him just now, back at that chapel of yours?”

“How dare you!” she cried as she whirled ’round and started to walk away.

Lachann grabbed hold of her arm. “Just answer the question, Catrìona. Where and when did you see Macauley last?”

“I . . . I don’t remember,” she said petulantly. “Sometime yesterday.”

“Before or after the granary fire?”

She yanked her arm away. “I don’t know.”

Lachann wanted to tell her to go to the devil, but he needed to settle matters with her father first. He wanted to know what his prospects were going to be on Kilgorra before he spoke of the future with Anna.

“Where is Anna?” he asked.

“You mean my
servant,
Anna?” she asked with clipped words. “Why do you need to know?”

Lachann waited.

Catrìona’s lips thinned and her eyes narrowed. “What does it matter to you?”

Lachann did not answer. He hoped Anna had not gone across the rough straits this morn. But she was familiar with those waters, and he could not spare the time to look for her now. Not when their future was at stake.

R
esigned to staying at the castle for the time being, Anna climbed up to the rarely used solar, treading carefully, for the shards of broken crockery still lay all over the floor. She collected the larger pieces of Laird MacDuffie’s bottle, then swept up the rest before getting down on her hands and knees to wash the sticky mess from the floor.

When that was done, she went to the window and looked down at the courtyard. Her gaze was instantly drawn to Lachann’s half-naked figure, parrying sword to sword with one of his men.

He’d pulled his shirt from his shoulders and tied the sleeves ’round his waist while engaging in the strenuous battle games. His well-muscled chest and arms gleamed with sweat, and his damp hair curled at his nape. He called out brisk instructions to the Kilgorran men who stood watching as he clashed swords with his kinsman, Duncan.

Anna pressed one hand against her breast. All at once, everything she’d felt the night before slammed through her entire being, and she had to struggle to catch her breath.

She loved him.

He looked up at that moment and their eyes locked, causing him to misstep.

“Anna!”

Anna whirled ’round at the sound of her stepsister’s voice and her footsteps marching up to the solar. Catrìona came into the room and glanced about with a critical eye, her gaze stopping at the window and landing on the warriors in the courtyard.

Anna wrestled to regain a modicum of composure, hoping that Lachann had turned away from the window before her stepsister noticed him looking up. Catrìona would not take kindly to him paying any sort of attention to her
undeserving
sister.

When Catrìona took a sharp breath and slowly turned to face Anna with ice in her eyes, Anna knew her hopes had been in vain.

Catrìona approached her slowly, and Anna felt her dagger strapped to her calf. Did she dare draw it out? Protect herself from her own kin?

Catrìona shoved her shoulder. “Those windows need a good vinegar wash,” she said in a vicious tone. “You know ’tis your responsibility to see that the keep is maintained.”

“And
you
know I do all I can.” Anna ducked away from another of Catrìona’s pushes.

She headed for the stairs, refusing to think about her stepsister and all her demands now, not when she’d seen Lachann’s expression and the hint of a smile just before he’d faltered.

She knew what the lairdship meant to him, and yet that trace of a smile gave her an unexpected glimmer of hope. Did he mean to forsake the lairdship and return to Braemore as Kyla had predicted?

Would he take her with him?

“Look at this.” Catrìona kicked out a pile of old peat and ashes from the fireplace onto the clean floor. “From last winter, I imagine.”

Anna needed to talk to him.

“Are you listening to me?” Catrìona demanded.

“No.” Anna removed her apron and went down the steps while Catrìona railed behind her.

“I’m not finished with you, Anna MacIver!”

“Ah,” Anna said under her breath, “but I am finished with you, Catrìona MacDuffie.”

L
achann kept his concentration firmly focused on his demonstration of offensive technique with his claymore.

Until he caught sight of Anna through a tower window in the keep. Then his attention deserted him and Duncan managed to slice him.

’Twas merely a scratch—but ’twas one that should never have happened.

He forced a laugh and stepped forward, clapping Duncan on the shoulder, making light of his carelessness. He looked up at the window again, but Anna was gone. Lachann turned his attention back to the practice field and finished his demonstration, but it could not end quickly enough. The vision of Anna through the solar window drew him irrevocably.

He took his leave of his men and strode to the well, where he drew up half a bucket of water, then dumped it over his head. He shoved back his hair, and when he looked toward the close, he saw that Anna had come down.

He started for her, intending to steal a kiss.

Or two.

And then Cullen Macauley walked brazenly into the enclosure and approached her, as though he had not been suspiciously missing ever since the fire.

Lachann felt his jaw clench. He jogged forward as the bastard moved in close to Anna, blocking her path.

Anna tried to slip around him, but Macauley made it impossible.

“Mayhap you would join me in the garden down by the chapel?” Lachann heard him say. “ ’Tis cool there, and naught to do. Naught but lie back in the grass and watch the clouds. Or . . .”

Before Lachann could get to her, Macauley put his arm ’round her waist, his hand dangling dangerously close to her bottom. Just as Lachann reached them, Anna pulled her hand back and clouted him in the nose with her knuckles.

Macauley yowled, releasing her as he covered his face with both hands. Blood quickly covered the bastard’s hands.

Lachann would have pummeled him if Anna had not. The lass had learned well. “Serves you right, Macauley,” he said as he pulled up his shirt and shoved his arms through the sleeves. “Catrìona is not enough for you?”

“Your interference is not welcome here, MacMillan,” Macauley said, clearly shaken by the unexpected turn of events.

Lachann confronted him, putting himself between Macauley and Anna. “Where have you been, Macauley?”

“Where have I been?” Macauley made a rude sound and started to walk away, but Lachann took hold of his shoulder and yanked him ’round.

“No one has seen you since the granary caught fire. Where were you yesterday afternoon?”

“You have your nerve, accusing me, MacMillan.”

“I haven’t accused you. Yet. Answer the question, Macauley. Where were you, and can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?”

“Cullen!” Catrìona shouted as she ran into the enclosure. She narrowed her eyes at the sight of Anna standing behind Lachann. “Cullen! You said you were going to the distill—”

Macauley turned to face her.

“Oh Lord!” she cried when she saw the blood. “What’s happened?”

“This bleeting wench shoved her fist up my nose when I did naught but pass by.”

“Anna?” Catrìona’s face turned a vivid shade of red, and she made a grab for Anna. “Why are you still here? I gave you—”

“Leave her be, Catrìona.” Lachann stopped her, taking hold of her shoulders.
Gesu,
but she was harsh.

She gave out a strangled sound. “I am in charge of my servants, Lachann MacMillan. And in case you have forgotten, ’tis my father who is laird here!”

“And he is incapable at the moment,” Lachann said. He held onto Catrìona to keep her from going after Anna again. “Answer the question, Macauley. What were you doing yesterday when the fire broke out?”

“I wasn’t anywhere near the granary yesterday.” Macauley spat blood.

“Of course he wasn’t,” Catrìona said.

Lachann wasn’t inclined to believe either of them. “Does that mean you were with him all day?” he asked her.

She raised her chin in indignation. “Well, I . . .”

No, she would not want to admit to an intimate relationship with Macauley, not while she still thought she could play her game with Lachann.

“I’m not answering any of your questions, MacMillan. I’m going to the distillery,” Macauley said. “Your father is asking for a drink, Catrìona, and someone took away all his whiskey.”

Gesu,
the man was slime.

Lachann glanced back at Anna, whose eyes were cast down, as though she did not dare look at him—or at anyone. He’d have released Catrìona, put his arm ’round Anna, and taken her to a quiet spot for those stolen kisses he’d been thinking of, but he had not yet settled matters with the MacDuffies.

And he certainly wasn’t done with Macauley.

“You no longer have access to the distillery,” he said to his nemesis.

Blood streamed from Macauley’s nose even as his face twisted into a mask of pure hatred. He lunged for Lachann. “You have no right, MacMillan.”

Lachann pushed Catrìona behind him and stepped aside. “Aye, I do. Every right. Which you would know if you understood the agreement signed by Laird MacDuffie weeks ago, before I ever left Braemore.”

“You cannot keep me out, MacMillan.” Macauley struck a fist at Lachann, but Lachann let go of Catrìona and brought up his arm to block the blow.

“You cannot do this!” Macauley roared. He struck again, but Lachann caught the bastard’s fist and twisted his arm behind him. He shoved him face-first into the wall, and none too gently.

Catrìona made sounds of protest behind Lachann and tried to pull him off Macauley, but Lachann ignored her. “You are banned from the distillery, Macauley. The business—which was on the brink of ruin even before the fire—has been returned to Geordie Kincaid’s capable hands.”

“Why, he’s no more than a—”

“Competent distiller and manager, aye. Which you are not. Your tenure at the distillery is done.”

He released Macauley and stepped back, battle-ready. The man would be a fool to try to attack now, but Lachann was ready for him. He felt Anna’s surprised gaze upon him and heard more of Catrìona’s protests.

“Stay away from the village,” he said to Macauley just as Duncan came into the close, looking for him. “And try not to do any more damage before I ship you off the isle.”

“Why, you cannot—”

“Try me, Macauley,” Lachann said. “I would like nothing better than to finish you now.”

Duncan put his hand on the hilt of his sword and stood fast behind Lachann, his feet slightly apart. He looked like an impenetrable wall, and Lachann knew would not let Macauley out of his sight.

Lachann turned to Catrìona. “Is your father conscious?”

“Aye,” she said in a grudging tone. “But his head pains him terrib—”

“ ’Tis time we spoke with him of serious matters,” Lachann said, taking Catrìona’s arm. He looked at Anna. “Are you all right, lass?”

She nodded, though she was pale and obviously shaken. He could not yet tell her that all would be well. Not until he settled matters with the old laird.

“Duncan, send someone to the village for Father Herriot. Have him meet us in MacDuffie’s bedchamber.” He turned to Macauley. “In future, leave the servants alone, Macauley,” he said before leading Catrìona to the keep. “And the same goes for you, Catrìona. Anna knows her duties. There is no need for you to browbeat her.”

Lachann despised having to leave Anna that way, speaking of her in such terms. But he did not want to give Catrìona any more reason to cause her trouble. If Catrìona knew how he felt about Anna, there would be hell to pay, and Anna would be the one to pay it.