Page 355 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“Aye,” Jillian said, “and they began to shout that I had killed him.”

“That you—” the lass’s eyes darkened. “You could no more wield that sword than I could.”

“I tried to tell them that,” Jillian agreed, “but they wouldna’ listen. Instead, they dragged me away.” Jillian gripped her hand. “They did not even close poor Jonathan’s eyes. Just left him there like that. God forgive me, I do not know if he got a proper burial.” “Jillian,” she began, but the girl cut her off.

“Do you think he went to Tir na nOg?”

His captive cast a puzzled look in his direction.

“The Land of the Ever Young,” he explained. “An ancient custom of the Gaels.”

“He was a good man,” Jillian went on. “I pray God his Imrama na Anam was good.”

Iain smiled to himself at the contradiction in Christian and pagan beliefs. “I feel certain his spiritual journey was as it should have been,” he said.

“Mayhap he will choose to return to the world of the living,” she said, her voice filled with the hope that comes only with youth.

“Aye,” Iain agreed, “he has that choice. But let us not forget, lass, we are still among the living, and I, for one, would like to know who did this to him.”

Jillian’s expression hardened. “Aye, laird. I want to know that most of all.”

“Fine then. Tell us the rest.”

“That is all I know.”

“Not quite all.”

She gave him a puzzled look.

“How is it we came to find you on MacPherson land?”

Jillian flushed. “Well, there was a trial—” “A trial?” the lass cut in.

“I was brought before the tribunal and they found me guilty of murder. Though, I do not understand how. No witnesses were called but those who found me at Jonathan’s side. I told them there was no time for me to have killed him. I had just arrived, and even Kevin could have said so. But they did not think it necessary to call him.”

“I can well imagine what that man would have said,” his captive said, her tone caustic.

“Lass,” Iain said.

She looked at him, and he shook his head.

“Well,” she said, “what happened after the sham—er, trial?”

“I was sentenced to death.”

“Death?”

“Lass,” Iain growled, “if you cease your interruptions, we may yet learn this story before the evening meal.”

She shot him a scathing look, but refrained from comment.

“You were sentenced to death,” Iain prodded and relaxed against the doorway once more.

“Aye, and would have died if not for—” Jillian clasped the lass’s hand. “You saved me mistress.” Fresh tears hovered on her lashes. “I do not know how to thank you. If Jonathan were here, he would give you anything he had.”

The lass smiled grimly. “It was worth knowing we thwarted your attackers. But it is not I who offer you safety, but Lord MacPherson.”

Iain lifted a brow at the hearing her use his title. So, she was not entirely oblivious to the power his rank held. Do not fool yourself, man. Such things remain a bargaining tool that hold no sway with her. Still, he noted with frustration, she had always known he possessed sufficient power to hold her prisoner indefinitely. It was, he realized, as if the authority he wielded was held against him.