Highland Thief Page 11

  Guilt etched Gavin’s face, and he slumped back in his chair. “Aye, you have a point. But the situation between Deirdre and me was different.”

  Kerr grunted, unwilling to concede the point. “That doesn’t change the fact that you have no moral high ground on which to stand. ’Tis fortunate I still have mine.”

  Gavin muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “ablach.”

  They sat in silence, each lost to their thoughts, and then Gavin asked, “Do you want me to speak to her?”

  “Aye, and Deirdre too. We need as much information as we can get. But doona come across too strong. She’ll only dig her heels in. And doona tell her she has to let me stay. ’Tis her home, not mine. If I am truly unwelcome, I willna remain.”

  ***

  The knock on her bedchamber door startled Isobel. She jumped up from her desk and quickly shoved her papers under the pillows on her bed.

  Deirdre’s voice came through the door. “Isobel, are you in there?”

  She crossed the wool rug that covered the stone floor and opened the door.

  Her sister-in-law stood in the hallway with her hair mussed and her cheeks flushed.

  It looked like Gavin had been pulled away unexpectedly—by Kerr, no doubt.

  Things were already going to plan.

  “What’s going on?” Deirdre asked.

  Isobel tugged her inside, cast a quick glance into the empty passageway, and then closed and re-barred the door. When she turned around, Deirdre had crossed the room and was perusing the blank parchments on her desk.

  “What do you mean what’s going on?” Isobel asked as she joined her friend.

  “Kerr pounded on our door a few minutes ago and dragged Gavin away. It must have been important or Gavin would ne’er have left—certainly not at that moment.”

  Isobel smirked. “Why? What were you doing?”

  “Geometry,” Deirdre said, and they both laughed. “What have you done now?”

  “What makes you think I’ve done anything?”

  Deirdre shot her a look, and Isobel sighed. “Fine. I have done something. But I canna tell you what it is.”

  “Why not?”

  “’Tis a secret.”

  Deirdre’s face fell. “Doona you trust me?”

  “Of course I do! But if your husband, who is also your laird, demands you tell him where I am, and impresses upon you that I might be in danger, then you would be hard-pressed not to tell. If you doona know, you willna be caught in the middle.”

  Deirdre’s eyes widened. “Where are you going, and what danger? Och, love, what have you gotten yourself into?”

  Guilt swamped Isobel. She’d been pondering how best to trick Kerr, and she knew that the best way to do it would be to include Deirdre—to use her trustworthiness and her good nature to make Isobel’s lie seem real.

  Yet how could she do that to her beloved sister-in-law and friend?

  She sighed. I canna.

  She led Deirdre to the side of the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress with her. “’Tis naught to worry you, Deirdre. Just another one of my tricks. And I willna be in danger, I promise. ’Tis something I’ve done many times in the past.”

  “I’m already worried. Isobel, we were recently attacked, and Gavin was almost killed. Ewan was taken for almost two years. Our enemies will not hesitate to take you too if they catch you.”

  “No one’s going to catch me. Gavin has his best men guarding me.” Technically she hadn’t lied. She just didn’t elaborate that if all went according to plan, Lyle and the rest of her guard wouldn’t be there.

  “Then tell me what you’re planning.”

  “Nay. It will be a surprise to everyone. Including you. Besides, Kerr will be able to read your every emotion. He’ll sniff out the trick, if I’m not vigilant.”

  “Can you at least tell me what the trick is, if not how you’re going to execute it?”

  Isobel wavered. If Kerr had told Gavin what Isobel had told him, then it was only a matter of time before Deirdre found out. Best if her friend heard it from her first. But she’d have to choose her words carefully.

  “In the next day or two, Kerr may worry that…I’ve run off and married someone else.” She said the last quickly, wanting to get it over with. Saying it out loud made it seem worse, somehow.

  A look of horror grew on Deirdre’s face. “That’s awful! You canna do that.”

  A ball of guilt grew in Isobel’s stomach. She jerked to her feet, trying to squash it down. “And dumping him in a pit of manure was all right?”

  “Nay, but…at least he was expecting you might do something like that. This is different.”

  “Why?”

  “Isobel, it will tear him apart. He’ll go berserk when he finds out. Have you thought of that? He could hurt someone.”

  “He already knows, and I made sure he understood it wasn’t anyone from around here.”

  “Then who does he think it is?”

  “It doesn’t matter who he thinks it is. He just has to catch me eloping and discover I’m alone. That’s the trick—there ne’er was another man. I will have won!”

  She said the last triumphantly, and Deirdre gave her a quizzical look. “Won what?”

  An unsettled feeling filled her belly. She didn’t know how to explain to Deirdre the dynamic between her and Kerr. “I will have beaten him at this…whate’er it is that’s between us.”

  “So the two of you are at war?”

  “I ne’er said that.”

  “A contest?”

  She huffed out an exasperated breath. “The man is annoying, and he baits me. He figured out my trap earlier today. I wager he willna figure out this trick.”

  “So ’tis a mental challenge.”

  “You could say that.”

  “And by making him believe your trick, you’ve proven that you’re smarter than him.”

  “Nay! ’Tis not about being smarter. ’Tis about…winning this round.” She didn’t know how else to say it.

  Thankfully, Deirdre’s face cleared. “Ah, I see. You’re outwitting one another. And then what?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if you win this round, you’ll be even with him. He won one, you won one. Will you then marry him and put your contest aside? You could build a wonderful life together—have bairns, help your clans, grow old with each other. Be friends rather than enemies.”

  Her jaw tightened. “Kerr isna my enemy. He’s my…my…adversary. And I didn’t say I would marry him.”

  “So, what, then? Is the purpose of the ruse to push him away? What if he ne’er comes back to you, Isobel? What if he lets you go?”

  She pressed her lips together, a strange feeling in her chest—like it was being squeezed from the inside out. The urge to yell at her friend intensified. “Where are all these questions coming from? ’Tis a wee game we’re playing, naught more.”

  “So it’s fun to fight with Kerr?”

  “Doona put words in my mouth, Deirdre.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand.”

  “Well, you doona, obviously. ’Tis something between me and Kerr that I canna explain. He will understand.” She spoke harshly, her chin raised and her words clipped—her tone of voice one she’d never used on her friend.

  Quiet descended upon them, suffocating them. Deirdre’s fingers trembled on her lap before she curled them into her palm. She dropped her eyes, like she used to when they first met.

  Regret and sorrow filled Isobel. She quickly sat down, wrapped her arms around Deirdre, and squeezed her tight. “I’m sorry, love. Forgive me.”

  Deirdre hugged her back. “Nay, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldnae have questioned you in such a way. You’re right. ’Tis between you and Kerr. I just hope it will lead to
what you truly want, and not what you think you want.”

  Isobel’s brow furrowed. Isna that the same thing? She shook her head to clear the unsettling thought and sat back.

  “Does Gavin know it’s a trick?” Deirdre asked.

  “Probably.”

  “But Kerr will believe it.”

  “Maybe… Yes, I believe he will.”

  “He has more to lose than Gavin,” Deirdre said softly. “He’ll lose you.” Their eyes met, and Isobel’s heart stuttered. “Things may turn out differently than you think, Isobel. You ne’er know what the future will bring. Look at me and your brother. Married. Parents to Ewan. Another bairn on the way. Five months ago, I ne’er imagined that was even possible. There may be someone else in your path…in Kerr’s path too. Someone new without the years of strife between you. Someone…easy.”

  If Deirdre’s words had meant to soothe her, they were having the opposite effect. Anxiety had curdled her stomach, and Isobel rose from the bed.

  She paced to her desk and sat down. “Aye, you may be right.” She said it with a lightness she didn’t feel.

  Smoothing the blank piece of parchment, she then picked up her quill and dipped it into the ink. She liked to name her plans, but she hadn’t been able to come up with a good title for this one yet. The last trap had been called the Manure Maneuver. She’d been quite pleased with that one, not that the great name had done any good. The best she’d been able to come up with for this one was the Suitor Surprise or the Suitor Swindle—and they were both shite.

  Suppressing a sigh, she left a space at the top, refusing to believe her lack of a good title might be a bad omen. Then she began scribbling on the parchment.

  “What are you writing?” Deirdre asked, crossing to stand behind her so she could see the parchment.

  “A list of things to do. The first step is done. I’ve dropped hints about my upcoming elopement, and Kerr has told Gavin about it. I’ll cross it off as soon as I’ve written it.”

  Deirdre snorted as Isobel finished the sentence and then crossed it off with a hard stroke before starting a new line. “Next, I need to write a letter for Gavin that Kerr will find.” She re-dipped her quill as she thought about it. “I’ll leave it on Gavin’s desk in his solar. Or maybe have someone slip it under the door. Kerr has his own key. He’ll see it.”

  “You think he’ll open Gavin’s correspondence?”

  “Well, if he doesn’t, he’ll go find Gavin to open it. By that time, I’ll be gone.”

  “Gone? Isobel, you said you would be safe!”

  “I will be, but Kerr needs to come after me and know where to find me. I’ll leave clues for him to follow. Doona worry, Deirdre. He’ll find me. He always does.”

  She raised the quill and ran the soft end of it back and forth over her chin. “Maybe I should speak to Father Lundie.”

  “About what?”

  “About anything, really. Kerr seeing us together is more important than the actual conversation.”

  Deirdre shook her head. “Poor Father Lundie. He’s too dear a man to be used for your nefarious purposes.” She walked to the washstand by the window and poured herself a cup of water from the jug that sat beside the basin. “Oh, I forgot! He willna be here. He’s leaving for Clan MacAlister on the morrow. He received word earlier from the priest there.”

  Isobel crinkled her brow. “Well, that speeds things up. Now it will have to be tonight. Ah well, ’tis better this way. Kerr willna have time to process everything, and he’ll be more inclined to act from emotion rather than reason. ’Twill work in my favor.”

  A knock sounded at the door, and then Gavin called out, “Isobel, it’s me.”

  “Shall I answer it?” Deirdre asked.

  Isobel nodded, and then turned over the parchment on her desk.

  She rose, smoothing her palms over her dress and straightening her shoulders. It felt like putting on armor, and she thought back to what Deirdre had said…

  Am I at war with Kerr?

  Deirdre pulled the bar across and opened the door.

  Gavin stepped inside and kissed his wife on the lips, lingering for a moment. “What are you doing here, love? Are you helping my sister plan and plot?” Deirdre immediately looked guilty, even though she’d been doing nothing of the sort.

  Isobel strode toward them. “’Tis not your concern what I’m doing, Brother.”

  “It is when I hear you’re planning to elope with a stranger.”

  Gavin met Isobel’s gaze over Deirdre’s head. The speculative look in his eye—almost as if he knew something she didn’t, understood something she didn’t—had her raising her chin defensively.

  “He isna a stranger to me, Brother, and ’tis my choice whom I marry. Mother made certain of that on her deathbed.”

  “Then tell me who it is so I can get to know my new brother-in-law.”

  “Nay. I’ll not have him subject to your scrutiny.”

  Deirdre’s eyes popped open. “Isobel, you said you weren’t really—”

  “Hush, love,” Gavin interrupted her. “Let my sister have her games. She’ll need something to comfort her in the long, lonely nights ahead.”

  He gently nudged his wife toward the door. Isobel stepped aside as he opened it. He kissed her cheek before whispering into her ear, “It willna work, Sister. You’ll be left out in the cold. Alone.”

  A chill rose within her, and she shivered. He wasn’t talking about her plan tonight.

  Was she pushing Kerr too far? Too hard?

  Gavin wrapped his arm around Deirdre’s shoulders, and she wrapped hers around his waist, and then they walked together along the passageway to their bedchamber, their steps in sync, their bodies and hearts woven together.

  Isobel’s gut tightened, and her chest clenched. She lifted her chin a fraction higher. “Doona underestimate me, Brother. He’ll come!”

  Ten

  Kerr sat on the bench at a table in the Great Hall, tapping his fingers on the wood. The sound of the pipes playing a feisty reel filled the air, but his fingers were not tapping in time to the music. Nay, they were tapping in time to his growing worry and frustration.

  Where is she?

  The tables had been pushed back, and Gavin’s clan, and warriors from the other clans, filled the large room—dancing, laughing, eating, and drinking. It was a celebration of their victory—a cèilidh. A celebration of life in the Highlands despite the struggles for power that took so many innocent lives—even with the protection of lairds like Gregor MacLeod and his foster sons.

  Kerr sat back far enough so he could see all four entrances to the Great Hall—the main entrance, the side entrance that led out past the kitchen, the sets of stairs on opposite ends of the hall that bracketed the great hearth and led up to the living quarters of the laird’s family. Isobel had disappeared into her bedchamber hours ago and hadn’t come down yet for the celebration.

  He was about to drag Deirdre away from Gavin and send her up to bring Isobel to the feast, when a bright swathe of white-blond hair caught his attention. He whipped his head around to see her standing on the first step of the staircase closest to him, glancing around the room. She had a smile on her face as if she were simply enjoying the dancers and the music, but her eyes landed intently on each face.

  She’s looking for someone. For me? Nay, her gaze never strayed toward his despite how close he was.

  She must have seen him when she first came down—before he’d seen her—and now she avoided his eyes. He was about to go to her when she stepped off the stair and walked purposefully into the crowd.

  Her chin was raised in that haughty way he loved—the one that made him want to kiss her until all that attitude and queenliness melted away.

  He noticed a folded piece of parchment in her hand that she tucked into a deep fold of her arisaid as she passed in front of him. A letter
? Or maybe a list? Isobel loved making lists.

  She disappeared into the crowd, and he rose from the bench to keep an eye on her. She should be easy to see with her height and bright hair, especially since he towered over almost everyone, but she was gone.

  He strode quickly around the table and moved into the throng of revelers. The people stepped back to make way for him, drunken smiles etched on many of their faces. Finally, he spotted her sitting at a table on the far side of the room, deep in conversation with Father Lundie—the priest who had married all of his foster brothers and whom he hoped one day would marry him and Isobel.

  The father had a befuddled look on his face, and then his brow rose in surprise at whatever Isobel had said to him. She lifted her hand from the table to pat his arm in reassurance, and Kerr noticed the parchment she’d put in her pocket moments ago now sitting on the table where her hand had been.

  She glanced up when he approached and quickly covered the parchment again, drawing it closer toward her.

  She leaned forward and whispered into the priest’s ear, causing his cheeks to redden. Kerr stopped directly in front of them, his eyes jumping from one to the other.

  “Father Lundie. Isobel,” he said in greeting.

  The priest smiled up at him. “Laird MacAlister, please join us!”

  Isobel’s brow furrowed before she dropped her gaze and angled her head downward—which meant she didn’t want him to read her expression.

  Because she’s hiding something?

  He sat on the bench across from them and pushed his foot forward until it bumped into hers. She flicked her gaze upward, and he saw annoyance there but also excitement.

  Aye, she was up to no good, and his blood surged in anticipation.

  “Lady Isobel was just asking me about handfasting,” the priest said. “’Tis considered a binding ceremony before God, of course, but you must know that the two of you doona need—”

  “Father Lundie!” Isobel said sharply.

  He swung his gaze toward her, looking befuddled again, and hesitated. “My lady…’tis only that I’m leaving on the morrow for Castle MacAlister to see Father Grant…’tis early enough in the season that you could travel there for a wedding…or I could come back and perform the ceremony here, of course…I’m sure I willna be long.” He stumbled as Isobel’s frown deepened with every word. “I only meant that you doona need to resort to handfasting…”