Devil in Tartan (Highland Grooms #4)(90)

His family stared at him in shock, but the floodgates had opened. Aulay’s father suddenly surged forward. “I donna know what you are nattering on about, but I do know that for the want of a name, we could have had a ship restored to us! To you! You could have restored your pride!” he shouted, shaking his fist at Aulay. “But as it stands, we will empty our coffers and borrow money to repay what we’ve lost for the mistakes you made! Am I the only Mackenzie who feels wronged? Am I the only one to stand among us and demand that justice be done?”

Aulay had never defied his father that he could recall, but he was unmoved by his father’s speech. “It was my loss to bear, and I will bear it. But no one has the right to feel more wronged than me. No one!” he shouted. “And even I can see that to have them incarcerated or worse, hanged, will no’ bring back my life! We’ve lost everything, aye. I’ve lost everything. But extracting a pound of flesh for it will no’ change it—”

“Giving the name of who has brought us so low is no’ extracting a pound of flesh!” his father roared to the ceiling. “It is justice! It is living by the rule of law! It is what civilized people do!”

Aulay took a breath and forced himself to speak calmly. “Had they acted maliciously, I would likely agree with you, Athair,” he said. “But they did no’. They made mistakes, that they did—but their intentions were never to harm anyone. Their intentions were to survive. Circumstances can make fools out of all of us, aye? Circumstances have made me the fool in this case. No’ you.”

His father groaned. “’Tis the lass, is it no’? That bonny lass has caught your eye.”

This was not a childish infatuation, of that Aulay was certain, and he would not reduce it to that to appease his father. “It is far more than that, and I think you understand it, aye? It is everything I’ve ever tried to be in this family.”

“What?” his mother said in disbelief. “Well, I don’t understand you, darling. You are our son. You are as cherished as anyone!”

“Màither,” he said, and shook his head. “You canna understand the heart that beats in a man, aye?”

His father groaned and then cast his gaze to Catriona. “What have you to say?”

Catriona squared her shoulders. “I agree with Aulay. Completely. They’re no’ bad people. I should rather arrange for repayment than see any harm come to them.”

“Of course you do,” the laird said irritably. “Rabbie?”

Rabbie glanced at Aulay. “I donna know.”

Aulay shrugged. At least his brother answered truthfully; he could not fault him for that.

Frang stepped into the room. “Milord, the justice of the peace,” he announced.

Everyone jerked toward the butler. “So soon?” Aulay’s mother said.

“Aye, madam.”

Arran Mackenzie sighed to the ceiling. “Show him to my study, Frang. We’ll be along directly.”

When Frang had gone out, Aulay’s father rose to his feet and picked up his cane. “I’ll forgive you this, Aulay. But I’ll no’ allow them to escape with their crime and pay no consequence. I will no’. We have been dealt a blow, all the Mackenzies, and it canna go unpunished. Come now, the rest of you. Let us make our case to the justice of the peace.”

*

THE JUSTICE OF the peace, a diminutive young man with a hook nose, was pacing the floor when the family entered. His clothing was dusty, and he looked tired in spite of it being early in the day. He was in the company of a clerk, a thin fellow with a nervous habit of scratching his neck.

After the introductions were made—the justice of the peace, it would seem, hailed from the lowlands—the clerk looked at his pocket watch and nodded at the justice. “Well then, let’s have it, aye? I’ve an agenda in these hills as long as a man’s arm.”

“Our ship was stolen—” Aulay’s father began.

“Borrowed,” Aulay’s mother politely interjected. She patted her husband’s hand. “It was borrowed, darling.”

“It was stolen,” the laird insisted, “by another clan, aye? And as a result of their mishandling, the ship has been lost at sea.”

“Aye, what clan?” the justice of the peace asked, and nodded at his companion to make a note. “The MacBeths, was it? I’m no’ surprised. A pack of thieves, they are.”

“No,” Aulay’s father said. “The Livingstones.”

“Livingstone,” the justice of the peace repeated. “Livingstone.” He shook his head. “No’ familiar with that name, I’m no’.”

“Pardon, darling, but I think you have that wrong. It was Leventon,” Aulay’s mother said.

Aulay’s brows rose. His mother’s gaze flicked over him, and he could have sworn he saw the barest hint of a smile.

“I beg your pardon?” his father blustered, his face going red. “It was Livingstone, for God’s sake! By all that is holy they have been here at Balhaire for a fortnight!” He turned back to the justice of the peace. “They’ve escaped.”

“From this fortress?” the justice of the peace asked, clearly surprised. “How, then? Did they climb the walls?”

His father’s brows dipped into an unamused vee. “Aye, it would seem so.”