The campfire outlined Malcolm poking hares hanging and crackling over the open flame. Near him, one of the twins sat skinning more.
The cousin stood when he saw them enter, the hare and knife dripping blood to his feet. ‘What has happened?’
Caird guided his horse around the beddings and saddles placed in a heap. Mairead had no choice but to follow until Malcolm stopped their progress.
‘The horse spooked,’ Caird answered, handing the reins to Malcolm. ‘I borrowed Hamilton’s to give chase.’
Without glancing at her, Caird walked towards the largest boulder by the fire and slowly sat.
Looking perplexed, Camron dropped the knife and hare and walked to her.
Swinging her good leg over, she explained, ‘I’ve hurt my ankle.’ She hoped her explanation distracted Camron from Caird’s odd behaviour. Running after her only to ignore her; every muscle displaying his anger, but him not voicing it.
‘How bad is it?’ he asked.
‘She’s unharmed, Camron,’ Caird called out.
Glancing at Caird, his lips thinning, Camron reached for her and she put her hands on his shoulders and slid down.
Pain spiked up her leg, but she refused to cry out.
‘It’s not fine, is it?’ Camron said softly so Caird couldn’t hear.
Concern and questions filled Camron’s brown eyes and his kindness tempted her to talk.
But what could she say? Her brother was dead, her family would soon be publicly shamed and Caird had abducted her. She couldn’t possibly explain, nor would it do any good.
‘It’ll be better once I rest a bit.’ She purposefully avoided his true meaning.
He offered his arm. ‘Lean your weight on me and I’ll help you to a soft bit of grass.’
He sat her by the fire and far from Caird. Taking a small broken log, he laid it behind her for support and draped it with a blanket for padding.
When Camron didn’t leave she gave him an apologetic smile, before lifting the hem of her gown to assess her injury.
‘Her ankle’s swelling,’ Camron said, loudly enough for Caird to hear. ‘I’ll need to take care of it.’
‘I can do it,’ she said.
Caird looked over. ‘I’ll do it.’ He looked paler than she’d seen him before.
Camron sighed. ‘All’s well and good she’s yours, but you cannot do it and now her boot may have to be cut.’
‘I’ll do it,’ she repeated, loosening the laces and pulling the boot off. She gave a small sigh of relief before the throbbing in her ankle increased.
She would have given in to the increased pain except Camron was still crouched next to her and watching her too closely.
‘I doona know what happened, lass, but I have a feeling you’re in trouble,’ Camron whispered quietly. ‘And from the looks of it, so is Caird.’
Malcolm emerged from the trees and stood before Caird. Caird was loosening his belt around his waist. As Malcolm slowly raised Caird’s tunic, they talked low, but heatedly.
She didn’t know how to reply to Camron. How could Caird be in trouble?
‘I’ve got linens in my sack,’ Camron said, his eyes on Malcolm.
‘Any salve?’ Malcolm asked.
‘Hamilton’s sack.’ Camron gave a shake of his head as if he couldn’t understand. She knew she didn’t. Her gaze must have given her away because Camron explained.
‘From the lack of movement in Caird’s arms, I’m assuming he’s broken or bruised some ribs.’
‘Oh,’ she murmured. Her stomach plummeted and rendered any other response impossible.
‘He went to a lot of bother rescuing you from his horse, lass,’ Camron continued.
Malcolm was now carefully feeling along Caird’s back. Face tight, a sheen of sweat visible on his skin, Caird gave static responses.
People died of broken ribs and he hadn’t said anything at all.
‘I didn’t know,’ she said. What could she say to Camron? She had to pretend she hadn’t purposefully risked the horse, herself and his cousin’s life in the woods.
‘You made it back, lass, that’s what’s important,’ Camron replied. ‘Unless there’s more?’
He would think there was more. After all, if Caird had gone to so much trouble only to ignore her now, none of it made sense. Caird’s behaviour didn’t even make sense to her. He hadn’t hinted that he was injured and his words to her were cruel.
Yet, she recalled how he had held her hand in the woods. It was difficult to remember when her own emotions were jumbled. At least now she knew, with his ribs hurting, Caird couldn’t have raised her on to the horse.
Malcolm was rubbing the salve around Caird’s sides. Glistening, his skin showed the rise and shadows of muscles wrought from training. He was hurt, she had caused it, and yet she watched with a sort of helpless fascination because his pain wasn’t visible, only his strength.
‘Are you worried for him?’
‘For a Co—’ She closed her mouth, but it wasn’t quick enough and she lowered her eyes.
‘For a what, lass? What is Caird to you?’
What was Caird to her? Her enemy, her nemesis, an insurmountable mountain of a man, who caused her nothing but anger and heartache. She hated him for it. Hated him.
Yet, with every harsh outtake of breath he gave as Malcolm began tightly wrapping the linens around Caird’s chest, she felt concern?
That little softening of feeling, that tiny bit of guilt knowing he was in pain, made her feel something other than hatred. She knew the feeling was another mistake.
‘He’s nothing more than what he said he was,’ she said as lightly as she could.
By Camron’s expression, she knew she disappointed him.
But what else could she say? If Caird wouldn’t explain his behaviour, neither would she.
As if he knew her answer to Camron, Caird suddenly looked at her. His changeable grey eyes scrutinised her as if he searched for his precious answers. Intent on finding some answers of her own, she held his gaze. They’d never decided on how to proceed. Was she to pretend to be his whore or his enemy?
Caird’s eyes suddenly hardened and she saw his left thumb flex. When he had watched her undress at the inn, he had done that slight movement. He hadn’t been pleased with her then and she could surmise he wasn’t pleased now.
Was he warning her to stay quiet with his cousin? As if she was too simple to know better? An enemy, then.
‘Never known any horse of Caird’s spooking before.’ Camron’s voice broke through her thoughts.
Despite their joviality and gentleness, these Graham men were no fools, and she knew she would get no reprieve by asking for Camron’s help.
Looking at Camron, she replied, ‘I must have done something wrong, but he was able to calm it down.’
Camron’s features softened as she finally said the correct thing.
Which was good because she just wanted to be left alone. For as much as her ankle throbbed, she was beginning to feel the rest of her bruised body as well.
She opened her palms and could see the blisters made from her tight grip on the leather reins. She’d ridden a horse before, but only infrequently.
‘When they finish, you’ll need the salve for those,’ he said.
She was too much of a novice to have ridden like that. She was too much of a novice in this whole situation.
Camron stood from his crouch, but kept his voice low. ‘You let me know if you need anything else. Blood on my hands or not, I’ll help you. You ken?’
She gave a smile, but she feared it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Thank you.’
He nodded and went to pick up the knife and hare again.
She arranged her gown as she assessed Camron’s words. He would help her with her ankle or against his cousins if it came to such. She had no doubt they’d do it. Noble Grahams, their strength was without question.
Camron made quick work of the hares, before handing them to Malcolm, and disappearing into the woods.
He was quick, efficient and no doubt deadly.
But the Grahams couldn’t help her. Nobody could. This was something only she could free herself from.
Her family was in danger and didn’t even know it. Because not only had her brother gambled against his laird’s orders, he’d done it with an English garrison. By the next full moon, they would expect payment of a chest full of silver.
It was silver she didn’t have, and, after the massacre of Berwick and loss at Dunbar, an English garrison that wouldn’t be forgiving.
The laird had forbidden Ailbert from gambling and the fact he did it with the English made it so much worse. Her family now faced humiliation and certain banishment. Scotland was still reeling from Berwick and Dunbar. There was nowhere safe they could go. Her mother was too frail for such an ordeal, and her sisters too vacuous. They depended on her to save them.
Her only hope was the dagger. There was simply no other way to get the money...the money!
It wasn’t the dagger, it was the money it represented.
And hadn’t she heard some of that in Caird’s pouch? Where was it now? She hadn’t seen it attached to Caird’s belt when Malcolm tended his ribs. The pouch contained Caird’s money and the dagger and gem. Caird must have removed it before he took Hamilton’s horse to chase after her, which meant it was loose and—
‘Do you need some as well?’ Malcolm dropped the linens and salve beside her. In his other hand, he held out a speared and charred hare. She quickly took the stick and nodded towards the linens and salve. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll make sure you have food, but you’ll apply the salve yourself,’ he said. ‘I’ll not anger my brother further by staying next to you.’
She glanced at Caird. ‘Your brother is only angry because of his pain.’
Malcolm’s eyes held a frightening light in their green depths. ‘I have seen my brother in pain before. I have not seen him like this.’ He returned to the fire, taking down more of the cooked hares.
Famished, Mairead took quick bites of the hare and threw the bones towards the fire.
So Malcolm was warning her, too. He might be the younger of the brothers, but he was still a Colquhoun and not to be underestimated.
If Caird was angry because she risked his horse, Malcolm was angry because she hurt his brother. She might have gained the Graham cousin as an ally, but she certainly had lost Malcolm.
Knowing she needed her ankle and hands to heal, she applied the salve and linen. Keeping her eyes low, she surveyed the camp.
The sacks and supplies were now scattered to the different rolled blankets they’d use as beds. She couldn’t readily see Caird’s pouch, and stealing from the others might prove to be impossible.
Resignation settled within her. Even if she could steal from the others or Caird, the money they carried couldn’t be enough. Her brother had promised a chest of silver, which meant the dagger was her only hope. The same dagger that was most likely in Caird’s pouch.
If Caird continued to hide or wear the pouch, then only at the wedding celebrations could she be certain of enough distractions to grab it. Yet, she’d be too far from home and might not return in time. And what of the gem?
It was probably more valuable than she could ever dream of, but there were too many complications. The way Caird looked at it. The way he had looked at her, like he was studying her.
She suspected the Colquhouns would never let her be free if she took the gem. The dagger was no chest of silver, but it should be sufficient to pay the debt. She’d just have to bide her time for now.
Camron re-emerged from the woods with Hamilton, both of them wet from a stream nearby. She wasn’t surprised when Hamilton came to her, and so she asked him to help her to the woods.
Her effort not to look at Caird worked, but she didn’t miss the sound he made as she tucked her arm around Hamilton’s neck when he lifted her.
When Hamilton returned her, the camp was settling down for the night. Malcolm was dampening the flames and Caird, his movements hampered, was patting his horse.
He had risked his life when he pursued her into the woods. But why? He said she was necessary, but necessary for what?
She was not surprised to see his pouch tied loosely to his belt again. Anyone as overbearing as Caird wouldn’t be careless with such a valuable. Yet even so, he seemed obsessive about the dagger and gem.
He was also adamant to obtain his answers. Since he didn’t believe she was the dagger’s owner that meant all he had to do was catch the thief.
There was no reason for him to keep her. There had to be something more here.
Weary at her curiosity, she started to lay down on the blankets they had provided for her.
‘Move over.’
Startled, she looked up. Caird stood over her, his eyes unreadable.
She glanced at the others, already arranging their sacks and blankets to sleep. If they slept away from her, so could he.
‘Go away,’ she hissed, arranging herself more fully in the middle.
‘You’re on my blankets.’
They were given to her and she didn’t feel like giving them up.
‘Are we talking?’ she whispered. ‘Because I can’t pretend to be your whore if you doona pretend to worry about me.’
‘Done pretending.’ He grunted. ‘Move over.’
She was comfortable, but it was more than that. She didn’t want to cede any more to him. ‘Nae.’
He crouched low, his back straight. This close, she could feel the heat of him, feel the strength of his will to make her move.
‘Do you want my touch?’ he whispered. ‘I’m a large man and those are my blankets.’
Out of stubbornness, she thought about moving, but she didn’t want to sleep on the damp ground.
Her face flushed with annoyance, but she sat up and made space for him.
With a grunt, he settled beside her, but did not lie down. Instead, he propped himself against the padded log, and adjusted the pouch to his side. There was no sound of coins, and she wondered if they were removed because the weight hurt his ribs.
He moved again and stretched his legs out before him, but he did not touch her. In fact, with his arms crossed, he looked as if he made an effort not to touch her.
Bristling, she plucked at her gown. Apparently it was true when he had said he could barely touch her without feeling the need to wash. His words hadn’t been forgotten. Hurting still because of the words, and chiding herself because she wondered if his ribs pained him, she vowed to do everything she could to ignore him.
Unfortunately, her vow didn’t stop her ears from hearing his body shift, or the hitch to his breath. She couldn’t deny it, even with his cruelty to her, his pain...affected her. She had lied to Camron when she answered that Caird was nothing more than a friend to her.
He was more than that; from that first kiss she knew he was more. It was the way, despite everything, she continued to respond to him. Even more, it was that she knew he was generous and kind. He had shown her that at the inn before they’d known their clans.
Whatever it was about him, she was beginning to feel as tightly bound to him as the linen. It shouldn’t be this way. Was it her grief making her seek and want Caird? She had more than enough to worry about. She shouldn’t be curious about the Colquhoun, she should only be angry at him.
‘You shouldn’t encourage my cousin,’ he said.
Caird’s eyes were closed, his manner appeared nonchalant but she felt the tension in him.
She stopped arranging her gown. ‘I encourage nothing.’
He grunted.
Did he intend to humiliate her? ‘I needed to relieve myself,’ she added.
He adjusted his back and settled into the thicker blanket. ‘If you plan to sow dissension, it will not work.’
‘It shouldn’t matter if Hamilton helps me. I thought we were done pretending,’ she reminded him.
‘Aye,’ he replied after a while.
‘Then how are we to proceed?’ She lay down.
He didn’t answer and she looked to him. His frown had deepened.
Exasperated, she adjusted herself until she was comfortable. She was done with her curiosity, done with being worried by his broken breathing, done with this confusion. She just had to wait for a distraction, steal the dagger and be free of them.
‘Doesn’t matter how we go on,’ Caird whispered so softly, she wondered if he meant to say the words out loud. ‘I will have my answers.’
When she felt Caird’s eyes on her, expecting her to reply, she turned her back.
* * *
It was almost morning when Malcolm motioned Caird to follow him to the stream. Caird wanted to begin this conversation earlier, but Mairead’s sleep was restless. He knew he could not leave her when there was a chance for her to wake again.
It couldn’t be because in her sleep, she had turned and faced him.
Her hair spilled wildly against the blanket. He knew she was just as tempestuous, just as unpredictable.
Just as scheming. Before he’d sat next to her, he sensed she’d been planning something because she kept looking at them, and at their supplies. For a Buchanan, she wasn’t good at hiding her emotions. For he also perceived her frustration.
When he sat down, he wanted to question her, but by then he was next to her, felt her ire, smelled her hair and he could only think of Hamilton carrying her to the woods, and how her arms wrapped around his neck. How he wanted it to be him instead.
Sighing, he rose to join his brother. It wasn’t the lack of sleep causing his sudden tiredness or his unknown emotions about Mairead, it was the responsibility he faced right now.
Quietly, they walked away from the camp and stopped short of the stream so the ground remained firm under their feet.
‘So she fled...’ Malcolm started. His brother knew his horse better than Camron and Hamilton. ‘Why?’
‘I doona know,’ Caird answered.
‘She had the dagger.’
Caird lowered his voice. ‘Nae.’
Malcolm remained silent.
He was glad the ground below him was firm because he knew the conversation would soon not be. ‘She was escaping, but I think not with any intent.’
‘I’m not following this conversation.’
Caird shifted his stance to relieve the pain in his ribs. ‘She had woken, but wasn’t awake. May not have even thought of why she was running.’
‘Angry or scared?’
‘Both.’ He thought of the emotions on her face. ‘But there was something more there.’
‘This isn’t like you. Wondering about a woman’s emotions. It isn’t like you to travel with anyone only to ignore them. And you are ignoring her despite sleeping next to her. Who is she?’
Caird walked further down the stream. He knew he was supposed to make an effort at pretending to be her lover, but the farce was too heavy even for his broad shoulders.
He was the middle brother, and the responsible one. Bram was the laird, and a fair one at that, but Bram always served his own interests and pleasures first. Malcolm being the youngest would never know clan responsibility.
Caird was the dependable one. His silence was just part of that control. He carried the authority needed to rule the clan. He did not pretend anything, let alone affection.
He stopped just short of the damp earth around the stream. In this dim light, he’d likely get his boots wet. He wished he knew how to navigate the conversation. ‘Mairead is who I told you she was.’ he started. ‘She came to my room trying to find the dagger.’
Malcolm quickened his steps until he stood in front of Caird. ‘Aye, well, but who is she? What is she in all this?’
The sun was rising. Shafts of grey light were beginning to reflect off the water, but the sun’s light did not reach his brother’s face. Caird minded the darkness now. What he was about to say would hurt his brother. The least he could do was look him in the eye.
‘Mairead,’ Caird paused, ‘and her clan is Buchanan.’
He did not need the light to see his brother gutted by his words. Malcolm’s startled movement was enough to know that as sharp as a sword, his words struck deep.
Malcolm took a step closer, tension in every movement, his voice tight. ‘I doona believe you.’
‘It’s true.’
Malcolm cursed. ‘If you were not weakened, you’d feel the brunt of my fist.’
‘For once, I’m glad of my injury.’
‘This is not humorous. I could kill you.’
Malcolm swivelled around and picked up a broken branch. Swinging wide, he struck it against a tree. The crack shook the leaves above and echoed across the stream. No doubt it woke the others as well. Caird hoped they would stay away.
Malcolm kept his voice low, but each word was guttural with anger. ‘A damn lying Buchanan. Deceitful, untrustworthy baseborn—’ He pulled himself up. ‘You bedded her.’
‘Nae.’
‘She is comely. You were drunk. She was in your room all night. You’re telling me you did not want her?’
Caird paused. He wanted her. Desired her as he hadn’t any other woman. He had been drunk, but his vision wasn’t blurred. She had been conjured from his very dreams. Her impossibly wild curly hair, the width of her hips, the feel of her thighs.
His body still wanted her, even when he knew she was a Buchanan.
Despite her lies, despite her scheming, even now his body didn’t care.
The ride from the inn had been torture. Her bottom between his thighs. The curve of her stomach and breasts touching his arms with every breath she took. He was hard with the remembering.
His injury be damned. If Malcolm knew the truth of how he felt, he would feel his brother’s fist.
‘I did not lie with her. There was the scuffle and my head hurt afterwards.’
‘Hell,’ Malcolm scoffed, unbelieving. ‘You and your ale. Just a few drops and your controlled silence disappears. You probably talked her to sleep.’ He looked at him squarely, his tone changed. ‘When did you know?’
Mairead’s surprise at his hair colouring, her eyes widening with understanding that they were enemies. ‘Before the jewel was discovered.’
‘Still you didn’t tell me. This is not a secret you should have kept,’ Malcolm said. ‘It would have changed everything we did since the inn.’
‘I couldn’t have that.’
‘Couldn’t have! You are my brother, but you are not my laird. You best of all know my hatred of Buchanans. All Buchanans. I can never forgive any of them for what happened.’
As if he could. Caird cursed, and his anger rose. He had not told his brother for good reason. ‘I am using my head, not my emotions.’
‘Are you? Is that what you call it now?’
‘Careful, Brother.’
‘You have betrayed me and our clan.’
Caird changed his stance, but it was enough to stop Malcolm. He knew this would be difficult for his brother, but he would not take insults against his honour.
‘The true danger is the jewel,’ Caird said, ‘not the Buchanan.’
Exhaling, Malcolm stepped back. ‘Oh, the same Buchanan, who said the dagger was her brother’s? It could not be hers. Since she lies, how is she not a danger?’
‘She was surprised the jewel was inside.’
‘Of course she was,’ Malcolm said. ‘She’s lying.’
‘She is, but about something other than the jewel.’
‘How can you be certain?’ Malcolm asked.
Caird wasn’t certain at all. He couldn’t base anything on his instinct. When it came to her, his instincts were hardly logical.
Malcolm snorted. ‘Do you believe the dagger holding the Jewel of Kings was her brother’s?’
‘Nae. It isn’t possible it’s the Buchanans’.’ Caird started walking again, slowly, not needing the distance, but the distraction this time. ‘But she is a link to the jewel and it’s too powerful not to have answers.’
‘Is that why you didn’t leave her at the inn?’
‘Aye, and until we find the thief or some truths, I cannot be sure of anything.’
‘You risk our cousins discovering we travel with a Buchanan. They will not be pleased.’
‘Nor will they when I bring her to Graham land.’
‘You intend to tell them?’
Caird shook his head.
‘I would have taken the dagger and left the woman.’ Malcolm picked up another stick and swung it absently. ‘You have a lying Buchanan saying a costly dagger is hers. Obviously it isn’t. And you have another liar, who says the dagger is his, but now we aren’t so certain it isn’t.’
‘There is more to this than that.’
‘Aye, there is. This false love interest you play?’ Malcolm asked. ‘At least I know why you are not convincing.’
‘I’ll not be pretending long,’ Caird said. He knew he was unconvincing in his wooing of Mairead.
‘For how long?’ Malcolm asked, continuing to swing the branch. ‘Because you are not doing well with it now.’
‘When we find the thief, we release the Buchanan.’
‘Unless we need both.’
He hoped not. He could not be with Mairead for longer than was absolutely necessary. Only last night she had been like a wanton angel in his bed, her very flesh burning into him. Despite knowing who she was and the discovery of the jewel, he could not rid himself of the way she felt.
‘We do not need Mairead or the thief,’ Caird replied. ‘It is not the thief who controls the dagger. A man like him does not work by himself. We need another.’ He might have been drunk, but there was no doubting Mairead had surprised the man in the hall. That man was a weapon, not a thinker. And a weapon always had someone wielding it. There were more people involved than Mairead and a thief.
‘Could she not be in partnership with him?’
Caird paused. ‘And they had a disagreement?’
‘Aye.’
Caird swallowed the feeling of wrongness. Mairead a partner with the thief? He wanted to swing a branch as his brother had. Instead, he said, ‘It has merit.’
‘It could be why she ran. To warn him of our approach.’
Could it be true? ‘I doona think so,’ he replied.
His only proof was in that moment before she’d run. One moment she’d been asleep, the next agitated, but her eyes hadn’t held cunning.
He hadn’t expected the force or accuracy of her kick. Yet, it had been her eyes that stunned him. He understood the look now: a trapped animal. Tortured.
‘How would you know?’ Malcolm’s words were tight. ‘You can never trust a Buchanan!’
His brother was right. She was Buchanan. She called the man they had set loose a thief, but that dagger did not belong to her or her family. Just like all Buchanans, she could not be trusted. The thief could well be her lover.
‘Trust will have nae play in this,’ he said, trying to suppress his sudden anger. ‘We still must get to the games. The thief knew we were going to Graham lands, and he could be there even now.’
Caird inhaled and felt the sharp pain in his side, but the pain was nothing compared to what he was about to do to his brother.
‘She will need to ride with you to Graham lands,’ Caird said bluntly.
‘Never!’ Malcolm exclaimed. ‘She rides with us and you want me to hold her? I’m likely to snap her neck. How could you ask this of me?’
‘You must. I shouldn’t with my ribs and the Grahams must never know.’
* * *
‘We must never know what?’
Caird looked over Malcolm’s shoulder as Camron and Hamilton emerged from behind the trees.
What had they heard? He glanced at Malcolm’s mutinous face before he turned to greet his cousins.
‘You look surprised to see us, cousin,’ Camron said. ‘We know things aren’t right. Spooked horse? Tear tracks on her face, and you glaring at her? Who is she to you?’
Mairead had warned his pretending was no good.
‘Will you tell us?’ Hamilton added. ‘She is extremely comely, but a stranger none the less, and we’re thinking she isn’t who you say she is.’
Malcolm stayed silent, but Caird could feel the anger rolling from him. His brother was carefree, but never careless. What to tell his cousins now? Bringing them into this would make everything more complicated.
But he was no good at lying and too much was at stake. ‘A Buchanan,’ he ground out.
Their surprise was greater than their hatred, but only at first.
The Grahams were renowned for their loyalty. They knew what a Buchanan meant to a Colquhoun. ‘Return her to the inn,’ Camron ordered.
‘Nae,’ he answered.
‘You cannot possibly,’ Hamilton added, looking at Malcolm, ‘you cannot possibly mean to take her to the celebrations—’
‘I doona want her either,’ Malcolm interrupted.
Now Camron and Hamilton looked even more confused. The Colquhouns never disagreed in front of anyone.
‘We’re almost to the keep. We can’t call the games off. They were planned by our clans,’ Hamilton said. ‘Your laird couldn’t hold them, and our clan deserves happiness. They should carry on.’
Camron crossed his arms. ‘It’s too late to call them off, but just because Colquhouns have some say in the celebrations, I’ll not have them sullied by a Buchanan.’
Malcolm raised his eyebrows. ‘I agree.’
‘She goes or I do not.’ Caird knew it was risky to give the ultimatum since he knew he must search for the thief there.
‘Does she want to go?’ Camron asked. ‘I have not forgotten your behaviour on the staircase. There’s something more happening here.’
There was more, but he’d be damned if he brought the Grahams into the danger. He risked too much dragging his clan into treason.
Hamilton placed his hand on Camron’s shoulder. ‘We’ve asked the lass. She’s says she’s unharmed.’
Caird didn’t dare glance at his brother. He knew Malcolm wouldn’t willingly agree to this. He was counting on the Grahams’ natural good will to come through. He was not disappointed when Hamilton took a step back and raised his hands.
‘These games are to celebrate Gaira’s wedding. Caird is her brother, and if he wants Mairead, then we must honour his request.’
Camron relaxed his arms and nodded in defeat. ‘Aye, she goes, but you are warned, Cousin.’ Camron turned to Malcolm. ‘But will you still go?’
‘We all go,’ Caird answered as Malcolm curtly nodded. ‘But Mairead cannot ride with me.’
Camron accepted defeat and Malcolm nodded his acceptance, but that didn’t mean they would volunteer.
Hamilton grinned. ‘I’ll happily travel with her.’
Caird squashed his irritation at Hamilton’s quick agreement. This was what needed to be done.
* * *
Mairead was standing ready when the men emerged from the woods. It was the least she could do. After all, they were discussing her fate.
Quick to anger all her life, she’d never felt as uncontrolled as she did now. It was a deep, seething, swarming anger, as if a hornet’s nest was inside her.
Raised voices and a crack of something breaking had woken her. Then what was being said had kept her awake.
If her ankle hadn’t been hurting, she would have marched over and confronted them. And if she could have found a weapon along the way? Even better.
Instead, she was forced to listen while frustration built inside her since she’d missed some of the conversation, but thankfully not all of it.
They knew her to be Buchanan and they didn’t like it. Given Caird’s reaction to her, she hadn’t expected their reaction to be any different.
Still, she didn’t understand it. Their intense distrust of her was completely irrational. Their clans borrowed and stole. Annoyance or incredulity would have been normal, so Malcolm’s vehemence made no sense.
Just as confusing was Caird’s insistence on taking her to the games. Despite his family’s hatred of her. Despite him not believing the dagger was hers. He wanted answers, but the joke was on him. Only the thief was left to give him answers.
Her brother was no longer able to give him any and she had never had any in the first place.
At the instant sharpness in her chest, she exhaled.
She’d never had answers because the dagger and gem had never truly been hers, only a means to pay a debt, to avoid her family’s impending banishment. To escape the humiliation...
Mairead’s knees began to buckle and she locked them hard to keep from falling. How had she not seen the truth before now? She wrapped the blanket more tightly around her shoulders.
She had to give it up. Everything. The dagger, the gem and what she thought they represented to her family.
Because even if she was able to pay off her brother’s debts, the shame from her clan would always be with her family. She couldn’t even be certain that payment of the debt would save them from banishment.
What her brother had done went far beyond losing money; he’d actually betrayed their laird to the English. There was no getting around that. No matter how many confrontations she had with murderers, and no matter how many gems she brought back.
Mairead blinked against the thin line of light now brightening the grass and trees.
Morning had returned and so had some hard truths.
The men talked of the wedding games, but she was no longer going. The wealth of the dagger would never remedy Ailbert’s debt, and Caird would never let her have it.
However, there was one benefit left to her. Whoever had killed her brother had to know a Colquhoun possessed the dagger. As far as she was concerned, the Colquhouns and the murderer could just find their own answers together.
* * *
When the men finally emerged from the woods, Mairead kept her chin up and her eyes steady.
Malcolm wore his anger like a cloak, the Grahams looked surprised and sheepish as if they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t. Except she knew they weren’t embarrassed by the conversation, but the fact they had befriended her. She knew this, but it still hurt.
Only Caird approached her, his eyes taking in her crossed arms.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘I’m not going.’
As usual he said nothing.
‘I’m not going,’ she repeated, welcoming the hornets inside her now. ‘It’s over.’
He would never give her the dagger. She was foolish ever thinking he would. As long as he kept it on his body, she’d never be able to take it. Never. She just needed to get home and warn the laird.
‘Decision’s made,’ he said just as she knew he would.
‘You made the decision, not me.’ She waved at the space between them. ‘I cannot continue this kidnapping.’
‘You will,’ he said, the smugness of his tone irritating.
‘Why? Because of the dagger and gem? I doona want them.’
‘Giving up?’ he said.
‘Trying to goad me?’ Another form of manipulation and despite him using it as a weapon, it worked, if only temporarily. But this was a game she and Ailbert shouldn’t have played.
She thought about telling him her brother was dead, but it conceded too much to Caird. Ailbert was her family and a Colquhoun didn’t deserve to know of her brother’s death. It wasn’t as if Caird would pity her, and worse it would cause only more questions for him to seek his precious answers from.
‘Nae trickery, Colquhoun, nae dagger, nae gem and nae Buchanan. I’m happy to leave you to finding your answers.’
He shook his head. ‘The decision was made by you, Buchanan, the moment you entered my room, the moment you fought me for that dagger and lied about its ownership. You will not leave now because I’m not returning you.’
Did he think she wanted a ride back to the inn? She’d rather crawl home before asking him for favours. ‘Just leave me.’
His eyes flashed before he could hide his response. ‘Nae.’
When he began to walk past her, she stopped him with her hand.
Despite the cool morning temperature, his arm was invitingly warm, and she just stopped herself from pulling him closer.
Caird’s frown deepened as he stared at her hand resting on his arm. This close she felt the heat not only in her touch, but radiating from his whole body. She felt the strength, his determination and it was in direct conflict with what she wanted.
‘I’ll not go any further. It ends here. Just let me go. I cannot even tell anyone of this else my reputation would be ruined.’
As usual he kept his silence. But she felt the change in him.
Could he actually be giving her this favour? Hope sprang in her chest. She could return home to Ailbert, to her mother and sisters.
Removing her hand, she swiftly hugged herself to trap the heat she’d stolen from him.
Never raising his eyes, he gave a slight incline of his head before walking to the horses.
Not knowing what else to do, she let him go. All she wanted was to forfeit this game and return home. She just wanted this nightmare, which kept getting worse, over. However, with Caird’s silence, she didn’t know if she’d made another mistake.