Alasdair Graham paused when his gaze landed on Cait. She’d thought she would feel anger, seeing her grandfather for the first time in eight years, but surprisingly, she just wanted to cry with a mixture of emotions. He looked the same, from the long white flowing hair to the piercing blue eyes set in a face weathered by many Highland winters. The same but different. Older. Wearier.
Their last encounter had ended in harsh language, accusations, recriminations, and tears on Cait’s part. She’d not seen him since then.
“Alasdair,” Iain said. “Welcome. May I introduce Cait Campbell?”
“We’ve met,” Alasdair said, his blue gaze locked on hers.
“You have?” Iain asked in surprise.
“Alasdair is my mother’s father,” Cait said.
A moment of uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Cait didn’t look at Iain but suspected he was having trouble coming up with something to say.
“I didn’t realize you were a Graham before you were a Campbell,” he finally said to Cait.
Cait decided there was no reason now to keep anything secret. Not that she’d kept it secret before. It had just never been something she’d wanted to talk about.
“When John and I decided to wed, we went to Grandfather to ask for his blessing,” she said.
Graham’s eyes narrowed in warning. Cait lifted her chin. His opinion hadn’t mattered to her in a long while.
“I see,” Iain said, clearly uncomfortable. He was probably regretting asking her to dinner. She definitely regretted accepting the invitation. If she had known Graham was going to be here, she would have stayed very far away.
“We’d known Graham wouldn’t be pleased but had hoped he would see how much we were in love and give us his blessing. He refused in a most spectacular display of anger.”
“Catherine,” Graham warned.
She turned to Iain. “All because John was a Campbell.”
At the time Cait had argued that love didn’t care about ridiculous feuds, and Graham had said love was blind and stupid and his granddaughter was not marrying a Campbell. She and John had left and married anyway, and she’d been very happy with her choice, although she regretted the rift it had caused with her family.
Cait’s throat closed up and she looked away, blinking. Her grandmother had died five years ago, months after Cait had given birth to Christina. It had been her greatest regret that she had not been able to mend the breach with her grandmother.
“I’ll understand if ye don’t want me to dine with ye,” Cait said to Iain.
“Nonsense. We’re all adults here,” Iain said.
Cait raised her brow at her grandfather, who had the good grace to look away.
“Of course,” he said. “What’s past is past.”
She wanted to argue that he was the worst offender of not leaving the past in the past, but she kept her mouth shut. She’d learned long ago that arguing with Alasdair Graham was pointless. Besides, what did it matter anymore? John was gone. Christina was gone. Her grandmother was gone.
They made their way into the informal dining room, laid out with three place settings, one on either side of Iain, who was sitting at the head of the table. They waited while the footmen served them. Nothing but the clink of silverware on the china broke the thick, tense silence.
“It’s sorry I am about yer field, Campbell,” Graham said. “It’s a nasty business, that. Have ye figured out who was responsible?”
“Unfortunately, no. Have you heard anything?”
“Nay. Ye think it’s MacGregor?” Graham asked.
Cait and her grandfather’s gazes clashed and she held her breath, waiting for the inevitable, but it didn’t come. At least not this time.
“That would be my guess,” Iain said, unaware of the silent conversation that passed quickly between Cait and her grandfather.
Graham grunted. “The man is a sheep-shagging bugger.”
Cait smiled. She’d almost forgotten how humorous her grandfather could be. Graham held no love for MacGregor, even though his daughter had married MacGregor’s son and produced Cait. The marriage had been an alliance between two of the oldest clans as well as a love match. Her parents had been so deeply in love that when Cait’s mother died giving birth to her, Cait’s father had taken his own life.
The MacGregors and the Grahams had fought over who was to raise Cait. MacGregor had claimed that since she was the only child of his only child, she would one day rise to become chief and therefore should be raised as a MacGregor. Graham had hotly disagreed, saying she was half Graham and should be raised as such.
So Cait had lived a strange life, half as a MacGregor and half as a Graham, traveling between the two houses, loved by two gruff men who couldn’t seem to like each other and two wonderful women who’d been devastated over the loss of their children. And then she had met John and fallen in love, and if Alasdair Graham had been vocally against the marriage, that was nothing to Wallace MacGregor’s reaction. He’d instantly and ruthlessly cut her out of his life. She’d heard that he banished anyone who even mentioned her.
“What have you learned about the droving?” Graham asked.
“Nothing so far,” Iain said. “I’ve posted more men and increased my patrols. It’s slowed the thieving down but not stopped it.”
Graham pointed his fork at Iain. “That has the mark of MacGregor all over it. It’s him, I’ve no doubt. It’s the type of thing he’d do.”
“He needs to stop this ridiculous feud,” Cait said.
Graham shrugged; being an old Highlander himself, he understood the MacGregors’ way of thinking. “Campbell’s grandfather murdered his father after the man asked for sanctuary. That’s wrong, and it deserves retribution.”
“Forty years of retribution?” she asked.
“He seems to think so.”
“So when will enough be enough?” she asked.
“I don’t know, lass. Why don’t ye ask MacGregor?” Graham’s piercing blue eyes pinned her and she looked away.
When dinner was finished, Cait’s grandfather insisted on accompanying her.
“I can ride home alone,” she said.
“Nay,” Iain said. “Not with the drovers out there, and we still haven’t caught the person responsible for burning my fields.”
“I’ve been riding between our homes for days to check on the wounded. I’ll be fine.”
“Campbell is right,” Graham said. “A woman should no’ be roamin’ around these parts alone. It’s no’ safe.”
She plunked her hands on her hips and scowled at Graham. “Ye no longer have the right to tell me what to do.”
He scowled right back. “I’m goin’ with ye.”
“I don’t want ye to go with me.”
Iain looked between the two of them, clearly a bit amused and a bit alarmed.
Graham shrugged again.
“Stop doing that,” she said in exasperation. “Stop acting like what I say is no’ important.”
Graham harrumphed and turned to the door. Cait stared at Iain, who held his hands out at his sides. “What can I do?” he asked innocently.
She shook her head and followed her grandfather out, frustrated and irritated.
Despite her exasperation, riding beside her grandfather brought back warm memories of sitting atop a gentle mare, clutching the silky mane until her fingers ached and thinking it was a long way to the ground. But her grandfather had been beside her, his big strong arms always there in case she fell.
He’d called her a natural on a horse, and she’d been so pleased at his pride. Later, when she was accomplished enough, they would ride together and he would talk to her about the land and the different plants. He would discuss the crops, and when she was older he would ask her opinion. She’d always felt a wee bit honored when he seriously considered her opinion.
Tonight the breeze was warm and the sky clear. The moon shone down upon them, lighting the path. She could almost convince herself that nothing had changed since the last time they rode together, long before she wed John. But things had changed. They were both older. She had wed, borne a child, and lost her husband and daughter.
Her grandfather was older, a little more stooped, a little thinner, not nearly as large and muscular. But his mind was still as sharp as a dagger and his wit just as cutting. Those blue eyes still missed nothing and said everything he wouldn’t let his mouth say.
They’d left the clearing of the big house a while ago. The woods were quiet but not eerie.
He cleared his throat and shifted in his saddle. “It’s sorry I was to hear about the passing of yer husband,” he said a bit awkwardly.
Cait’s fingers tightened around the reins and her stomach churned. “Thank ye.”
He peered down the path. “I heard about the wee one, too.”
“Her name was Christina.”
“It’s…” He paused, frowning and blinking rapidly. “It’s one of my biggest regrets, not knowing my great-granddaughter.”
“If ye hadn’t been so hardheaded, ye would not have missed out on anything.” Truth be told, she’d been just as hardheaded. So many times she’d wanted to take Christina to visit both her great-grandfathers, but she hadn’t because she’d been fearful of rejection and still angry that they’d cut her and her child out of their lives.
“Aye,” he said. “I was hardheaded, and I paid the price for it.”
She looked at him in surprise, but they had rounded the bend and he was looking at her cottage critically. She could practically read his thoughts. The Grahams were a powerful clan, as were the MacGregors. Neither chief had thought that their granddaughter would live in a wee cottage buried deep in the woods.
He grunted and, being sensitive, she took it as criticism of her home. “It’s lovely, and I like being out here,” she said defensively.
“ ’Tis no’ safe,” he said.
“Ye’re the third man to tell me that in a week.”
He slid off his mount, not as nimbly as he had in years past but still good for a man his age. “What three men would that be, lass?”
“Campbell and Hal—” She stopped herself from mentioning the English sergeant. Graham held no love for the English and would be furious to know that the soldiers came to her for healing. “And Sutherland,” she said, hoping that her grandfather didn’t speak to Sutherland often.
He walked around the outside of her cottage, eyeing the woods perched close to her home, surveying the house with a critical eye. Cait dismounted and led her horse to the barn, where she gave it oats and made sure it was comfortable for the night.
Her grandfather was walking the perimeter of her land when she returned.
“Would ye like to come in?” She opened the front door and Black Cat was sitting there, waiting for her. She bent down to pet him, feeling his purr all the way through her arm.
Her grandfather gave the cat a cursory glance as he walked in. Cait lit some candles and stood uncertainly in the middle of her sitting room.
“Good Lord, lass. This is what the Campbell has forced ye to?”
“Of course not. I choose to live out here. I like it.”
He glared at her, clearly disbelieving her. “This is where ye and yer husband lived?”
“His name was John, Grandfather. And no, we lived by the big house. When he died…” She swallowed as the grief washed over her. “When he died, all I wanted was to be left alone.”
He shook his head as he continued to look around. Finally, he turned that bright blue gaze to her. “It goes without saying that I was no’ happy about yer marriage to John Campbell.”
“Oh, I think there was plenty said on the matter.”
He grunted, but his lips twitched in a smile. “I regret my actions and words.”
She’d waited so long to hear him say that. One of John’s biggest regrets was that she had no relationship with her family. He blamed himself, though she’d always told him it didn’t matter, that he was her family now.
“But as much as I hated ye marrying John Campbell, I will no’ tolerate ye with Iain Campbell.”
She blinked, taken aback. “Ye think I’m in a relationship with Iain Campbell?” She laughed because the thought was so ridiculous she could do nothing else.
Her grandfather glowered at her. “This is no’ funny.”
“This is very funny. Grandfather, I have no interest in Iain Campbell.” As she said it, her heart did a funny turn that bemused her. “I was at the big house tonight because I was checking on the men who had been burned during the fire. Iain asked me to stay for dinner.”
He was silent for such a long time that Cait wondered if he’d even heard her. Then he grunted again and turned toward the door.
“Wait,” she said. “What does that mean? Ye don’t believe me?”
“Nay.”
“I don’t like Iain Campbell. I could never do that to John.”
He turned to face her. “John’s dead. He’s been gone for four years.”
She drew back at the frank words that stabbed her as easily as any dagger would. “So I should just forget him? Grief has a time limit and I’ve exceeded mine?”
His gaze softened. “Nay, lass. Ye should never forget him. But ye do have to move on. If ye don’t, ye become a crotchety, lonely old person whom no one much wants to be around.” He opened the door. “But no’ with Iain Campbell. I will no’ tolerate that. I’m serious, lass. He’s dangerous, that one. I don’t trust him.”
Iain wasn’t surprised when Graham showed up at his door after escorting Cait home. He’d expected the older chief to come back. The revelations of the night had rocked Iain, and he suspected that they had rocked Graham as well. He wondered what the discussion had been about as Graham and Cait rode back to her cottage. No doubt Graham had warned Cait against Iain. And Iain was about to give Graham more reason to convince his granddaughter to steer clear of him.
“I suspect ye did no’ ask me to dinner to reintroduce me to my granddaughter,” Graham said when the housekeeper showed him to Iain’s study.
A fire burned merrily in the grate, enough to stave off the slight chill of a Highland night. Iain had already poured two fingers of whiskey in tumblers and handed one to Graham as both men settled into matching leather chairs facing each other.
“You suspected right,” Iain said.
Graham chuckled after taking a sip. “The look on yer face when you found out Cait was a Graham.” He shook his head and chuckled some more, although Iain saw the sadness in the old man’s eyes. Graham cleared his throat and sat straighter. “So what did ye feed me for? What were ye fattening me up for, lad?”
Iain took a deep breath. He hated this. More and more he just wanted to be a Highland chief, not embroiled in English or Scottish politics. He wanted to work his land, meet with his people, and live his life. But it must be done. He set his glass down on the small table beside him and contemplated Graham. “Since Culloden, things have not gone well for the Scots.”
Graham snorted. “I should say no’. The bloody bastard Sassenach.”
“I don’t believe fighting is the answer.”
Graham looked at him sharply. “So ye say we roll over and let the English bugger us up the arse?”
Iain bit back his smile and shook his head. “I’m saying it’s time to try a different approach. You’re respected in these parts. I’d like your help.”
Graham’s expression turned wary and concerned. “How?”
Iain sat forward. “I’ve recently come across some information that if the Scottish people don’t start cooperating, bigger sanctions will be held against us.”
Graham tensed. “What could be worse than rounding up the Jacobites? Killing our men and raping our women? Damnation, Campbell, they’ve already weakened our forces. People are leaving Scotland in droves. Just ask—” Graham bit off his sentence, but Iain could finish it for him. Just ask Sutherland. Sutherland, who was sneaking the wanted out of Scotland under the noses of the British.
“It can be a lot worse.”
The two men stared at each other for long moments. “Ye fecking Scottish spy,” Graham said quietly.
Iain suppressed his wince and held his gaze with Graham. He didn’t deny the accusation.“They will take away your guns, your weapons. They will disband the clan system—”
Graham surged out of his chair and pointed a shaking finger at Iain. “The hell they will! You’re a fecking turncoat, Campbell. An English lover. I’ll no’ listen to another word of this from ye.”
“Please sit down, Graham, and hear me out.”
Graham stood before him, chest heaving, eyes flashing, then he ran a weary hand down his face and fell back into the chair. “I’m getting too old for this shite, Campbell. I never thought I’d see the day when Scotland would cower to England. I never thought I’d break bread with a traitor.”
“I want what’s best for Scotland, and I think we need to compromise before things get out of hand.”
Graham snorted. “As if they’re no’ out of hand now. They’re killing us.”
“And we’re killing them, and killing isn’t accomplishing anything. We need to compromise—”
“Hell no!”
“It’s the only way for Scotland to survive.”
“Ye don’t get it, lad.” Graham sounded weary, and for the first time Iain regretted bringing the older man into this. However, Graham was so highly respected that Iain would need him in order to convince the other chiefs.
“You don’t get it,” Iain said. “This is a different world from the one you were brought up in. The English won’t go away this time. They’re here to stay, and we have to find a way to live with them.”
“So a Campbell can fill his coffers even more? Ye should be ashamed of yerself. But then ye’re only doing what every Campbell before ye has done.”
Iain pressed his lips together. He should be used to these accusations, because he’d heard them his entire life. But Graham was wrong. Iain was fighting for Scotland. He wanted what was best for Scotland. Unfortunately, no one would believe him.
“This isn’t about me,” Iain said. “It’s about preserving Scotland.”
“By giving it to England so we can become just like them? Ye’re daft if ye think England will give us anything. Ye say they’ll take away our weapons? They’ll do it anyway, lad. Doesn’t matter if we work with them or no’.”
Was he right? Iain wasn’t certain, but he would help in any way he could.
“I think this is all about ye.” Graham stood. “I’m finished with this conversation. Ye’ll no’ have my support in destroying this proud country.”
He turned to walk out, then turned back and looked pointedly at Iain, reminding him that despite his age, Graham was a formidable clan chief. “Ye keep clear of Cait, Campbell. I don’t want her involved in yer schemes.”
“I think you gave up the right to dictate her life long ago.”
Graham glared at him and walked out.