Page 100 of Keeping Kate

Kate hesitated. “Clan MacCarran. My brother is chief of the clan.”

“Huh.” Lord Hume slurped the last of his cocoa, reached to pour another helping from the silver pot, fragrant mist rising. He was silent as he stirred the contents of his drinking bowl.

“This is utter nonsense,” Grant said. He scowled, hands knuckled white on the back of the empty chair in front of him.

“Would you vouch for the lass if she was not your wife?” Hume looked at Alec.

“I would.”

The old man looked at Kate, his expression harsh. “Will you swear you never took a military document or any other thing with criminal intent?” His glare was powerful.

“Sir, I never entered an officer’s tent or looked at a document without Captain Fraser on my mind, without him as my sole purpose, my sole reason for...all I have done since we met. I had to find him again.” She realized, suddenly and clearly, how very true that was, and had been since that day of the swordplay demonstration at St. James. Reaching up, she touched Alec’s hand, still cupped on her shoulder.

“Please do not expect us to accept this,” Grant said.

“Grant,” Hume said. “You will have your turn.”

“It is true,” Alec said. “We have been searching for each other for months. Make of it what you will. I just want to clear this matter up so I can take my wife home so that we can begin the long, peaceful life together that we have always wanted.”

“Huh,” the Lord Advocate grunted again. “Grant, say your part.”

“We are not in court, sir,” Grant said. “This is not a hearing.”

“It is now. Speak, or lose your chance.”

“This girl accosted me in my tent,” Grant said. “I am sure it was her. She took papers and poisoned me. Left me in a dreadful condition.”

“You are certain of it?” Hume asked.

“As certain as I can be. She left me ill and near to death.”

“Poisoned, you say? Near to death? What was her name?”

“I do not know. Katie Hell. That is the only name we have.”

“What is your name, girl?”

“Marie Katherine MacCarran, sir.”

“Do you know aught of poisons? Do you go by the name of—Katie Hell, is it?”

“Nothing of poisons, sir. And Katie Hell—that is not my name.”

Hume looked at Grant. “What condition were you in when this Hell woman left you, Colonel?”

“Terribly ill, sir, unable to move, retching and fainting—”

“Fainting and half-blind with misery? Near to death?”

“Aye, in need of a physician,” Grant said.

“Then you could not accurately identify the woman you saw in your tent.”

“Sir, I saw this woman here.”

“If you were in no state to see who did that to you, if indeed it was some form of poison and not too much strong drink,” Hume said, “it is not reliable evidence.” He turned to Kate. “You were looking for this lad? You swear it on your life?”

“On my life and soul, Lord Advocate,” she said in a near whisper.