“It was fer the escutcheon! He shouldnae touched it!”
“Aye, I gathered that. I told ye I’d punished him for it. Ye had nae business to take the law into yer own hands, lad.”
Rory remained silent at that. His fists clenching and his mouth compressing.
“Ye didnae think my punishment was sufficient?”
“Nae! A belting’s nothing! I wanted to hurt him like the little bastard hurt me!” Rory raised his head, and his brown eyes blazed at him.
“He’s nae a bastard, ye’ll not insult yer mother so!” snapped Col.
Rory flushed at that and muttered something that might have been an apology.
“Ye ken, he had drawings of yer mother in that book?” asked Col grimly.
Rory nodded, not looking at him.
“Ye destroyed it anyway?” asked Col, incredulous.
Rory remained silent a moment, and then he sagged against the wall. “I took them out and destroyed the rest!”
Col was conscious of a wave of relief. Callum was an accomplished artist, and his drawings of Cat were lovely. The notion of them being destroyed had wrenched at his heart. To say nothing of the notion of Rory being the agent of that destruction.
“What did ye do with them?”
“Hid them.”
“Where?”
Rory compressed his lips.
“I said where, Rory?”
“He’ll not have them back; he doesn’t deserve them! Not after what he did to the escutcheon!”
“Tell me where.” Col’s voice dropped warningly.
“I shan’t tell ye and ye cannae make me!” said Rory and, ducking under Col’s arm, he took off down the alley.
Col debated whether to chase him and decided against it. He’d come home eventually, he had nowhere else to go. Col would deal with him then.
Turning for home, he walked slowly back to the house, wondering what the hell he was going to do with the pair of them. Entering the house, he went up the stairs to Callum’s room where he found the boy sitting on the bed with Aihan; they both had their heads bent over a book.
Callum stiffened at the sight of him and said, a shade defensively, “I was showing Aihan my journal. It has sketches in it as well. I suppose I’m lucky he didn’t take that too!”
“Aye, ye’d’ best keep yer door locked in future.”
“I do. He got in through the window.” Callum nodded to the casement widow behind him.
Col rubbed his face tiredly. “He didnae destroy yer portraits of yer mam. He took them out before he burned the rest.”
Callum swallowed and blinked. “Where are they?”
“I dinnae ken, lad, but I’ll find out.” He paused and went on, “This stops here, Callum. Nae more retaliation. Ye ken?”
Callum looked at him, and his eyes slid away. “Ye’ll nae punish him like ye did me, will ye? He’s yer favourite.”
Col frowned. “Nae, lad, he’s not. Ye’re both my sons and I love ye equally. But I ken ye’re different. That doesnae mean I love ye less.”
