Devil in Tartan (Highland Grooms #4)(88)

“It would seem you’ve heard quite a lot said,” Aulay’s father said.

“Aye, milord. We pride ourselves on knowing our neighbors, that we do.”

“Well, safe journey to you. Frang, see the gentlemen out,” he said, brooking no possibility of continuing this discussion.

When they had gone, the three Mackenzies exchanged a look. “Five thousand pounds is a lot of money, aye?” his father said to Aulay.

“Aye.”

“The justice of the peace will arrive on the morrow. The Livingstones will face the consequences of their actions one way or another,” his father mused.

Aulay said nothing.

“God in heaven, donna look so woebegone, lad!” his father said impatiently, flicking a wrist at Aulay. “As if I’ve asked you to put your best dog out of its misery, aye? We agreed, a wrong has been done to us and there must be consequences. The only question is whether the consequences bring us a bounty or no’. We could sorely use it.”

“I donna disagree,” Aulay said evenly. Not out loud, he didn’t.

“I donna trust the Campbells,” Rabbie said.

“Nor should you,” his father agreed. “Aye, but five thousand pounds would be a godsend.” He glanced at Aulay. “I leave it to you, Aulay. You are the one who was wronged and you will be the one to give them her name. If you donna give the name to the Campbells, the justice of the peace will determine her fate.”

“I understand,” Aulay said tightly. He understood far better than his father could begin to understand. “If you will excuse me?” He stood up and quit the room as quickly as he could without appearing to sprint. He felt sick to his stomach—it was churning with disbelief, with indecision, with despair. No matter what he did—give the Campbells her name, let the justice of the peace decide, or defy his father—someone would be hurt.

But it would be nothing quite like the painful shattering of his heart.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THE NEWS THAT the justice of the peace would arrive on the morrow was delivered to the Livingstones just before the supper hour. That effectively dampened their collective appetites, and they remained in the gatehouse, huddled together, their hands clasped, speaking of what they would say to the justice of the peace.

Lottie was determined—this was her cross to bear. “I am the one who put Aalborg into our thoughts! I am the one who said we must take the ship,” she reminded them.

“Aye, but what choice did you have?” Duff asked.

“An obvious one, aye? I might have let the whisky go. I might have married MacColl.” She might yet, if she could prevail with the justice.

“No, Lottie. You listened to Bernt,” Gilroy said angrily. “Too many times, we all listened to Bernt!”

“What’s done is done,” Mr. MacLean said solemnly. “Let’s try and get some sleep. Tomorrow might be a very long day.”

They embraced, one by one, patting each other on the back, not actually speaking a goodbye out loud...but the word hung in the air between them.

Lottie remained behind with her brothers. She didn’t know how to prepare them for what would likely happen. “Heed me, lads. I must go away for a time.”

“No!” Drustan said instantly.

“Dru, mo chridhe,” Lottie said, and took his big hands in hers. “Mathais will take good care of you. So will Duff, and Gilroy, and Mr. MacLean, aye? We Livingstones, we stay together.”

“But why will you no’? You’ve always taken care of me, Lot.”

She would not cry. She refused to cry. “Aye, I have. But Dru, did you know, then, that you can care for yourself?” He began to shake his head, but she squeezed his hands. “Think of it—you’ve been minding yourself these last few days at Balhaire.”

“Have I?” Drustan asked, frowning with confusion.

“Aye,” Mathais said. “I’ve no’ shouted at you once, have I?”

Drustan thought about that. “No.”

Lottie kissed Drustan’s cheek as he mulled that over, and turned to her youngest brother. “Mats, you’re the man of the family now,” Lottie reminded him.

“I know, Lot. Fader told me the same.”

She smiled wistfully. “I would give anything were he here now, aye?”

“Me, too,” said Mathais.

“Me, too,” said Drustan.

When she finally left their room, she felt bone weary. She had one last thing she desperately wanted to do—she wanted to see Aulay before she was taken before the justice of the peace. She wanted to tell him again how he’d made her feel truly desired for the first time in her life—desired for who she was, and not her face. She wanted him to know that he’d made her feel as if every bit of her mattered, that she was not a prize sheep won in the bargaining.

She was pacing, thinking of how she might see him—would the young guard fetch him? Should she make an excuse for returning to the castle?—when a knock sounded on her door.

“Come,” she said, assuming it was Mathais.

But it was not Mathais who walked through the door. It was Aulay.

He stepped inside and quietly shut the door. Lottie hesitated only a moment before she ran to him, leaping into his embrace.

He held her tightly, breathing her in, his big hand cupping her head and holding it against him. “Lottie...there is a boat waiting for you at the cove. Go now—the tide will go out at half past eleven.”