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“I made him go away, but you had to stand between me and my goal!” That was tantamount to confession.
“It was the only way to protect my clan.” Moira stood her ground.
“And then you had to bring a bloody McKendrick into it,” he spat, hatred drenched his features. “I had to eliminate him, too.”
“If something had happened to our brother we’d have—" Drostan started, but Freya rested a calming hand on his arm. He looked at her, then at her hand. Resting his over hers, his fury abated.
“This just about covers it,” the magistrate, Mr Wilson, came from behind them.
Lachlan cast a silent question at his wife.
“I called him,” she explained.
“Smart lass,” he praised.
The magistrate tied Hamish. Her uncle would spend long years in jail.
“We should have been faster in arresting him,” Fingal said with a pinch of regret.
In Lady and Laird’s Darroch’s study, everyone sat with a glass of whisky in hand.
“I agree,” Taran answered. “We almost lost this scoundrel.” And looked at Lachlan.
More than anyone, Moira could not bear the thought.
“We should all thank Moira for her swift action,” Freya said. They had elicited the full story from the Darroch couple as soon as they rode back here.
“I would have killed and quartered the bastard!” Aileen vented in rage.
“Turns out you’ll have to endure me for many more years,” Lachlan jested to lighten the atmosphere.
“Poor Moira,” Drostan quipped.
“How did you know the wine was poisoned?” Catriona asked.
“I remembered how Malcom died.” Funny how a sad memory helped create a happy one, she thought gloomily.
“You’ll stay for dinner, I expect,” Lachlan invited. With the Pitcairn behind bars, he felt a sense of freedom, certain Moira would be safe now.
“That’d be lovely,” Catriona answered for everyone.
After Moira and Lachlan had waved their guests farewell, they headed for their chamber.
Lachlan turned an adamantine glare at his wife. “Could you explain how you found in that hard head of yours to follow me to the Pitcairn?”
She swivelled to him, an obstinate gleam in her eyes. “What, you wanted me to stay behind while you faced Hamish by yourself?”
“I was hardly on my own,” he bit out.
“We women did not consider it fair to let you men do all the work.”
“It’s a man’s thing, for pity’s sake.” He fisted his tapered waist and stared at her. “If it had become ugly, I’d never be able to withstand—” he silenced, raking his hair with both hands as he turned his back to her.
“What?” she asked as he pivoted back to her.
But his silence dragged on, his eyes bored into her, a strange expression on them.
His stillness gave her the chance to talk. “If you think I’d…”
