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“And Miss Jonet?”
Matthew hesitated. He did not want to worry her. The very last t
hing he wanted was for her to be afraid again after he had worked so hard to make her relax. Yet he knew that she would never forgive him if he withheld this information from her.
“Aye. She will have to ken about this as well.”
He looked back down at the hair in his hand, the trepidation coursing through him. The fact that it looked so much like Jonet’s hair bothered him greatly, but the real fear came from the blood tinging the end. The testament to the truth that laid on the words in the letter.
A threat that they would not hesitate to carry out.
Though the nature of their meeting was not revealed, it did not take long for the MacTavish family, along with Jonathan, to gather in the Laird’s preferred sitting room. Laird MacLagain already had a goblet of wine in his hand before Matthew could even think of how he would begin what he needed to say.
A wisp of pleasure wafted through him at the fact that they had come so easily, beckoned by a man that was not a part of their family. It made him feel as if he belonged and though his heart wrenched at the memory of his deceit, it also soared with the need to protect them.
He swept his eyes through the room. From the Laird downing his wine, and grinning happily when he was done, to Dougal watching his brother with a shaking head. To even Jonathan, sitting in his usual seat by the fireplace with a frown on his face. Though they had not spoken much, Matthew knew he was just as great a part of the family as any of the others were.
It was evident in the fact that Jonet had chosen to sit in the seat closest with him. She was staring at Matthew, he noticed, when his eyes finally came to rest on her. When he had walked in, she had been deep in conversation with Jonathan, both of them wearing bright smiles.
Those smiles were no longer present. She watched him, noting instantly that something was wrong, but she did not come to a stand.
“Matthew!” Laird MacLagain boomed. “What did ye call us all here for?”
“Ye interrupted a spirited battle between me and the wee one,” Dougal wandered over to Jonathan to clap a heavy hand on his shoulder. Matthew expected Jonathan to smile and respond, but he did not. He only stared at Matthew the way Jonet did, as if he knew something was wrong and was waiting to hear what it was.
Matthew decided it was easier to simply say it straight. He held up the letter between two fingers and said, “When I returned to me bedchambers, I found this letter on me bed. In it, was this.”
With his other hand, he held up the lock of hair. The two older gentlemen squinted the moment he did. Jonathan and Jonet frowned in disbelief.
Only Jonet approached him, not taking her eyes off the lock of hair. “Is this…”
“Aye, it seems to be yer hair. Dipped in blood.”
The room trembled. Whether it was from the anger that was clearly mounting in the Laird as the hair was passed to him, or the fear he could already see building in Jonet’s eyes, Matthew was not sure.
“What does the letter say?” asked Jonathan.
“It says that I should leave here.” Matthew did not take his eyes off Jonet and she did look away. “Or else Jonet and I will suffer a painful death.”
“What?” The Laird barked. “Let me see that!”
As Matthew handed the letter over to the Laird, Dougal said, “Who would think to do such a thing to the man betrothed to the Laird’s daughter?”
“It’s all me fault,” Jonet whispered. Matthew grasped her wrist, keeping her from walking away.
“It isnae yer fault, Jonet,” he said strongly. “This isnae a curse. This is someone targetin’ ye for some reason that we cannae figure out.”
“Whoever this is doesnae ken I will go to the ends of the earth for me daughter.” This was a side of the Laird that Matthew had never seen before. He was clearly furious, pacing back and forth, but his voice was low, his eyes focused. This was far from the usual volcano of rage, it was a more direct form that meant it had transcended past anything Matthew had seen before.
“This is an outright attack on our family!” Alas, where the Laird fell short, Dougal picked up. He was the one roaring so loudly that it seemed to shake the room.
“Ye must tone down, Dougal,” Jonathan spoke in his usual calm demeanor. His brow was still furrowed, as if he were deep in thought. “It is likely that whoever sent somethin’ like that is within the Castle walls. It may very well be one of the servants.”
“Aye, ye may be right,” agreed the Laird. Despite his low tone, his face was fierce enough to make anyone quake in their boots. “Even if it could be an outsider who got one of the maids to leave the letter, no one else would have access to Jonet’s hair like that.”
“If it even is hers,” Matthew pointed out. “Jonet isnae the only one with black hair.”
“A slim chance that it isnae,” Jonathan said. He rose as well. Now, they were all on their feet, pacing, seething, and despairing.
