Page 21 of The Highlander’s Hunted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #2)

21

P erhaps feeling Katie’s thundering anxiety, Pipkin had taken it upon himself to act as guardian, trailing her out of the Great Hall and into the gardens. He plodded loyally alongside her as the two women wandered slowly across the lawns, ignoring the squirrels that taunted him from the nearby trees.

“I’m sorry beyond words for what happened to ye,” Katie said, her chin dipped to her chest, surprised that Alison was still holding her hand. “But I want ye to ken that I harbor nay ill will toward ye. None of me family does. And I’d hate for me wee sister to lose a potential friend because of somethin’ that wasnae in our control. We were… horrified, I promise ye.”

Katie had just explained who she was and her relation to the man who had attempted to take Alison’s life. It never got any easier, accepting with her words if not her true heart that her brother had been such a violent monster.

To her astonishment, Alison began to laugh—a soft, sweet sound that rippled across the new buds and awakened earth. “Mercy, that’s a relief.”

“A… relief?” Katie blinked in confusion.

“Well, I had a feelin’ I kenned what ye were goin’ to tell me, so when I came out here with ye, I feared that ye might try to kill me and bury me under the flowerbeds,” Alison replied, her humor more macabre than Katie had expected. A pleasant surprise.

A nervous laugh bubbled up Katie’s throat. “That’s exactly what I thought ye might do to me , but under the snowdrops.”

“There are snowdrops?” Alison clasped a hand to her chest. “I love snowdrops. And I love that neither of us has decided to kill the other, since I imagine we’re goin’ to be seein’ a lot more of each other.”

She chuckled, the sweet music of it letting Katie know that all was, in fact, well.

“I hope so,” Katie said shyly. “Bonnie doesnae have many friends. Doesnae have any, really, save for this wee lad here.” She patted Pipkin’s huge head.

The dog stuck close to her side, just in case the mood shifted.

Alison peered down at the hound. “There’s nothin’ wee about him.” Her laugh, as it came, was more anxious than before. “Is he friendly?”

“Gentle as a babe,” Katie replied.

“May I?”

Katie nodded, taking a step back to let Alison approach the hulking mastiff. She held out a tentative hand, and Pipkin sniffed it thoroughly, his tail giving a small, indecisive wag… until he nosed the swell of her belly. His tail became a wild thing, wagging with a furious delight. Lowering his rump onto the ground, he threw back his head and unleashed a happy howl, his tail thumping against the earth.

“What does that mean?” Alison asked, biting her lip.

Katie chuckled. “It means he’s given ye his approval… though I suppose that sounds ridiculous, considerin’ which family he comes from.”

“Nae at all,” Alison replied, reaching out to take Katie’s hands once more. “Katie Blake, I hereby relieve ye of any lingerin’ guilt. I have nothin’ to forgive ye for, but… ye should ken that I forgave yer braither a while ago, to reassure ye.”

Katie gasped. “What?”

“He was a… troubled man, Katie,” Alison sighed, shaking her head. “I cannae pretend that I kenned him at all, and I wouldnae dare to tell ye how yer braither’s character was, but in the… short time I encountered him, I could tell he wasnae… quite sane. Somethin’ had twisted him up inside. Ye dinnae do what he did if ye have yer wits about ye—do ye ken what I mean?”

Heart cracking and swelling at the same time, Katie nodded. “It willnae ever make sense to me, M’Lady. I ken he was a seasoned soldier, used to violence, but… if ye’d kenned him in a different settin’, ye wouldnae have thought him capable.”

She faltered. “Nae that I disbelieve ye. Of course, I dinnae. What I’m tryin’ to say is… I think ye’re right. I think somethin’ had twisted him up. I think somethin’ had been festerin’ inside him for a long, long time, and he’d become good at hidin’ the rot.”

“Are ye sure ye dinnae disbelieve me?” Alison asked gently as they resumed their walk, heading down the winding path that Katie had sprinted across to escape Hector. “If I were ye, and it was me braither, I’d probably have me doubts. And I understand how much of a ‘coincidence’ it all sounds, considerin’ the former enmity between me husband and yer…” she trailed off with a frown, as though she didn’t quite know what Katie was to Hector.

But it was clear that she thought there was something there, and the realization brought a fresh and ferocious blush to Katie’s cheeks.

“He’s just me Laird,” she croaked, her throat tight with remembrance.

Just a wretch who opened the doors to paradise, then slammed them in me face.

Alison frowned as if she didn’t quite believe Katie, but she shrugged it off. “I wouldnae blame ye if ye doubted me, Katie. And, please, call me Alison.”

“I dinnae doubt what me braither did to ye, M’La—Alison,” Katie replied haltingly. “ That’s the part I understand, in some awful, terrible way.”

“Because of Lucy?”

Katie nodded. “It’s his killin’ her that I cannae wrap me head around. Ye dinnae kill the people ye love, ye ken?”

“May I speak frankly?” Alison asked as the women passed through fragrant bushes, coming to the babbling stream that ringed the strange, pear tree island.

“Of course.”

Alison hesitated. “I’ve had a long time to think about this, and I think I found a reasonin’ that makes sense. Ye see, before… the occurrence, yer braither said that me husband had corrupted Lucy. He said that once he’d killed me, killin’ Duncan would ‘serve him right after what he made me do to Lucy.’ I willnae deny it—his words have haunted me for different reasons than ye’d think.”

Considering that Katie had fleetingly thought of Alison as a lying co-conspirator who had offered up a ‘convenient’ scapegoat for Lucy’s death, she was surprised at how readily she wanted to listen to the woman now. How honest Alison seemed, how reasonable and lacking in deceit—not someone who would ruin a dead man’s reputation in an elaborate ploy.

“Me husband told me that he was often away after he married Hector’s sister,” Alison continued, pausing here and there as if to gather her thoughts. “I suspect that yer braither visited Lucy, perhaps even had some sort of affair, though I wouldnae like to speculate—it wouldnae be fair of me, with neither of them here to defend their positions.

“Then, I believe that Lucy discovered she was with child, and, considering the dates, she must have kenned that it was Duncan’s bairn she was carryin’. It’s me belief that havin’ her daughter changed her, that it made her choose, and that she didnae choose yer braither. To protect Rosie, she chose the safety and protection of Duncan. And… I have a feelin’ that yer braither didnae take kindly to her decision.”

Katie looked across the bubbling stream to the pear tree, seeing the first white flowers beginning to blossom on the spiny branches. Her gaze fell to those odd, white stones at the base of the trunk, mulling over Alison’s words.

“I began to believe that when I found out I was with child,” Alison said softly. “There’s nothin’ I wouldnae do for this bairn, just as there’s nothin’ I wouldnae do for Rosie.”

“Ye think that me braither visited her one last time?” Katie rasped, fighting against the thoughts that bombarded her mind.

How frightened Lucy must have been, fearing for Rosie’s safety, terrified that, after Johnson killed her, he would hunt down the baby too.

Alison sighed. “I dinnae think it was a coincidence that poor Lucy was killed in her bed. Maybe yer braither asked her to run away with him and she refused. Maybe she’d just ended their… association and he lashed out. Maybe the affair continued for a while, and people started to talk, and she ended it for her sake and Rosie’s, spikin’ jealousy in yer braither that made him hurt what he loved so much.”

She looped her arm through Katie’s, offering a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll never ken, but I do ken that he loved her, that it drove him mad, and that… I forgave what he tried to do. I had to, for me sake and that of me child, for Rosie, for Duncan, for the future. I had to because I understood that he wasnae well.”

Katie’s eyes stung as she allowed herself to lean into Alison slightly, while Pipkin nudged her thigh to let her know he was there. He gave a mournful whimper of understanding, and her hand fell to his head, stroking it gently as she continued to stare out at that pear tree.

She had never heard it all framed so… logically before, and part of her hated that she couldn’t find any holes in Alison’s theory.

“So,” Alison said, with a hopeful smile, “ye’re nae Laird MacKimmon’s mystery bride then?”

Any sorrow evaporated, and Katie almost choked on her shock. “Nay, Alison! Heavens, nay!” A coughing laugh burst out of her. “Would ye look at me—do I look like a Lady to ye?”

Alison grinned. “With a bath, I dinnae see why nae.”

Her theory about Johnson might not have been outlandish, but that certainly was. After Hector’s dismissal that morning, there was a greater chance of selkies actually swimming in the downpour than Katie becoming the Lady of Clan MacKimmon.

Nae that I’d want to be, she told herself sharply, in case her mind got any different notions.

She’d had her fill of Hector Kaysen. Even if he implored her, she wouldn’t go to him again.

Now, all she had to do was convince herself that was true… and rid herself quickly of the sudden images of him on his knees, begging for more.