Page 44
“Everything is possible.”
“She may be a thief and a spy.”
“I dinna think so.”
“How do ye ken? Ye’ve never even met her.”
“Ye wouldna fall in love with a thief or a spy.”
Angus scoffed. “I’m nae in love with her.”
Raghnall shook his head, smiling in his short beard. “Mayhap nae yet. But I’ve never seen ye so…so…” He waved his hand in search of a word.
“What?”
He sighed. “Like ye really want to grab a pastry and are ready to cut yer own hand off if ye do.”
Angus rubbed his left brow. “To hell ye with yer quick sightedness. I’ve never kent ye were so knowledgeable in love.”
“I’m knowledgeable in ye. If ye’re really so in love with that other woman, consider carefully if there might be another way to protect Kintail against clan Ross. I think ye’ve done yer duty enough for our family. ’Tis time to put yerself first. Because this time, ’tis for the rest of yer life.”
They arrived at the church. And as Angus opened the door to step inside, annoyingly, he thought that Raghnall may be right.
Before he could enter, a cry made him turn his head. “Lord Angus!” called Iòna. “Lord Angus!”
Angus froze. He’d asked Iòna to keep an eye on Rogene and come fetch him if she was in danger.
“What is it?”
With a tight knot in his gut, he watched Iòna run towards him. “’Tis Lady Rogene, Lord. Lady Euphemia came to take her.”
Chapter 17
Angus ran down the stairs into the dungeon, his fingers curling into a fist. About a dozen Ross warriors stood with somber faces, hands on the hilts of their swords. With his heart jumping as he heard angry screams and shouts from the dungeon cell, he shouldered his way into the fiery darkness.
God’s feet, Euphemia was relentless. What did she want now?
Looming over the entrance into the prison cell, Euphemia held a rod with one arm and was shouting at Rogene. Rogene, although still huddling into his cloak, glared back at her like a queen with her head high.
“…ye bitch, ye goddamn whore, get out of there, now!” Euphemia thundered.
“What’s going on?” Angus said as he came to the grating.
“I’m not going away with them,” Rogene said.
“Are ye mad?” Euphemia screamed. “The laird decided that ye must be punished! The laird is the law here. If ye dinna come out, I have ten men here who will take ye.”
Angus’s blood chilled. Laomann was looking straight at the floor in front of him with the air of someone who was trying to will himself to disappear.
“Laomann, what is she talking about?”
“I dinna ken, Angus,” he said. “Lady Euphemia made a good argument that I must, as laird, do justice and nae wait for ye. And I think she’s right. What’s the whole reason to wait? Justice must be done, or other thieves and spies will think that they can steal and spy with no consequences.”
It was as though a scalding wall of water hit Angus’s blood. He looked at Euphemia and at Rogene, who was wounded and abandoned, and he just couldn’t stand the thought of Rogene being hurt.
It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t anything he could explain. Mayhap it was his instinct as protector. Mayhap it was a part of him that finally believed her—against his logic and reason.
“Get away from her,” he growled.
