Page 58 of Bride takes a Scot

“I shall. Go on, Laird, I’ll see to her now. I shall bathe her, make her comfortable, and tend to her. Ye see to your duties.” Edith didn’t give him another moment’s attention when she began removing Isabella’s sodden garments.

“Come on, lad.” He put his hand on Noah’s shoulder and with hesitation on both their parts, they left the room. Together, they stood in the long hallway. Unable to stand still, nevertheless full of anxiety and feelings that made him want to run to confront Silas, but unwilling to leave his wife for long, he began to pace from one end to the other. It didn’t escape his notice that his son followed in his footsteps. The poor lad probably had the samefeelings running through him. Imagine how he—and everyone, really—had ignored the lad, thinking him beyond sense or communication. Because of Silas. And all those years of thinking that Leona had drowned in a dreadful accident, when in fact she had been murdered.

The poor lass. And their poor son.

Declan couldn’t help but hold the culpability for her death. He should have known what was happening and protected her. And this day, if he’d dallied any longer on his trek home from the Campbells, he would likely be burying another wife.

More rage than he’d ever felt spurred him to breathe heavily through his nose so as not to punch a wall and perhaps frighten his son. With that thought in mind, Declan fisted his hands, tried to calm himself, and kept pacing with Noah as his shadow.

The door to his chamber opened and Edith appeared to stand in the opening. “She is not ailing, Laird, just tired from the excitement. Milady just needs a hot bath—not one in the loch—and warm garments. I shall ask one of the girls to heat up some water while I fix her a cup of warm chamomile with honey. That shall soothe her throat. Stay here until I return.” She hurried past him and didn’t wait for his response.

He looked down at his son, who peered up at him expectantly. “Well, then, lad,” he said, and lifted his son in his arms to give him a hug of comfort. As he did so, the lad wrapped his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist. Absurd how the gesture meant to comfort his son comforted him in return.

He peered into the bedchamber to see Isabella curled on the bed, apparently asleep. She wasn’t shivering anymore, at least, so he decided to leave her be while he continued to pace the hallway, holding Noah. More questions rankled him. Questions he would soon get the answers to, like was Silas behind the accusation that caused his incarceration? Was hethe man behind the threat of trying to overtake his clan and the Campbells? He would question the knave as soon as Edith returned.

Finally, Edith returned with two servants. They carried buckets of warm water and Edith herself held an overlarge tray.

“My thanks, Edith, for your aid.”

“Worry naught for her, Laird. Go on with you now. I know ye have things to see to and Milady would not want ye to shirk your duty because of her.”

“Noah, stay here with Isabella. I will return as soon as I can.” He set the lad down inside the doorway. He brushed his hand over his son’s hair. “I will be back, lad. You stay here with my—with Isabella and Edith.” With that, he gave a look to Edith. She’d watch his son, he knew, as she nodded at his silent command.

Declan practically sprinted from the cottage to head to the pit. Behind the large stone building that housed the soldiers, it held the clan’s criminals. Rarely did they use it, but it was put to good use this day. Declan rounded the barracks and found half the men in his army standing guard. Anse bowed his head to him when he stopped next to him.

“Laird, he is in there but has not spoken,” Anse said and handed him his sword. “Ye left this by the loch.”

Declan wanted to keep hold of his sword, and his fingers tightened around the hilt. But he needed answers. It was best to conduct his questioning without a formidable mien and he sheathed his sword lest he be tempted to use it.

His men removed the iron grate at the top of the pit and pulled Silas from the deep hole by way of a rope that they had tied around his waist. When Silas reached the top, they dragged him until he lay before Declan’s feet. Silas’s hands and feet were bound. That wouldn’t do. Declan wanted to face his adversary with honor and wouldn’t strike down a man who was bound.

“Unbind him,” he commanded.

Two of his men used their daggers to cut the ties at Silas’s hands and feet. His stepbrother got to his feet to stand before him with hatred burning in his eyes. Declan probably wore the same look, but he tried to maintain a calm exterior. For now, he just wanted answers. He would get his vengeance once everything in the past—and the present—had been explained.

“Silas, ye will tell me truthfully… Why? Why did ye murder Leona? Why did ye try to murder Isabella?”

“Because I wished to hurt ye,” Silas ground out with venom in his tone.

“But there are many ways to hurt me. Why take the lives of two innocent women? Are ye that envious? Make me understand.” Declan was surprised that his voice didn’t falter when he posed his questions. Tears choked his throat like a fist.

Silas’s eyes flashed. “Ye do not deserve them,” he scoffed. “I saw how ye ignored Leona and now how ye do the same to Isabella. I only wanted their affection since ye cared not about them.” He appeared oblivious to the fact that Declan’s hand hovered over the handle of his sword. It would only take a false word or movement, Declan realized, before he drew his blade and struck. He took a deep, steadying breath.

“How I am with my wife should not concern ye. Ye, who are vile, willing to hurt a woman akin to the way you did Leona. Ye murdered her, drowning her in the loch, taking her life.”

“It could not be helped. She kept screaming. I could not let her call the guard. I had to stop her from screaming.” Silas pressed his hands over his ears and his eyes bulged as if even now he could hear her.

Declan felt no pity for him. “Are ye behind the accusation that caused me to be imprisoned in the king’s dungeon?”

“Nay,” Silas said assuredly.

“Tell me why I should believe ye.”

Silas gripped his hair and practically spit when he answered, “I speak the truth. Aye, I would make a better laird than ye, but I was willing to wait for it. I figured that eventually ye would make an enemy ye could not defeat.”

Declan scoffed. “Aye, so ye did not plan to do away with me to gain the lairdship? Were ye also intent to overtake the Campbells?”

Silas shook his head vehemently. “Nay, nay, why would I? I have no interest in the Campbell Clan. Never have I hoped to gain anything from the Campbells. I tell ye, I am not the accuser. I did not try to kill ye in the woods, and I am not trying to overtake the MacKendricks. Ye can either believe me, or not. I care naught.”