Page 33 of Devil Black

“Yes. But, you see, Catherine found herself in dire straits indeed, carrying her lover’s child.”

“The penniless bailiff’s son? Aye, so. Did she tell your father?”

“No. She told me, and I…I hatched a scheme for us to trade places. I would come to Scotland, while she ran off with Thomas.”

“Ah. So you sacrificed yourself for your sister.”

Isobel dropped her eyes. “It was no great sacrifice. My life was in ruins.”

“And, now? Do you sacrifice yourself to me, on her behalf?”

She did not lift her eyes and felt him capture her chin in his long, strong fingers and force her to meet his eyes.

“Well, Wife?”

“I do everything I do for Catherine.” Isobel’s color mounted with the lie. “Just as you do all you do for anger.”

The expression in his eyes changed, grew more distant. “Just so long as we understand one another.”

He released her, and she turned her face away.

“So,” he resumed after a moment, “how did you deceive your father’s servants, who believed themselves to be accompanying one Catherine Maitland?”

“Our maid—Bethan—knew the truth. I bought her off with a ruby necklace that belonged to my mother.”

Dougal raised his eyebrows. “Enterprising.”

“The scheme would not have worked at all, had Father decided to accompany us. But, as usual, he professed himself too busy with the estate. Catherine and I are as like in appearance as may be.”

“Aye? Which, I presume, explains the indiscretions of the bailiff’s son.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Once more, his eyes examined her. “You must know how lovely you are.”

“There is no need, sir, to flatter me. You have me already where you wish.”

“I do not flatter, no more than I lie. You are temptation on two legs. If your sister does resemble you, the poor sod had no chance.”

Again Isobel looked away from him. “We told the servants, and Father, Catherine had taken a cold. She went into the coach well swathed—or, rather, I did. Soon after I departed, Catherine met with her Thomas and eloped. They are long away.”

“Your father will be livid.”

“He will. Of course, he may believe it was I who fled with Thomas. So he may think himself well rid of the problem I represented.”

“Is he truly so cold?”

“Yes.” Isobel reflected upon it and added, “I believe so.”

“And where have your sister and her lover fled?”

“Bristol, where he is promised a position.”

“Bristol! The netherlands of hell.”

“Why is that?”

“Anywhere is hell, that is no’ Scotland—and especially this little piece of it.”