Page 89 of The Devil Wears Kilts
Now Charles Calder frowned. “Never. Pigheaded as the MacLawrys are, the Campbell would never agree to killing Seann Monadh. They were friends, once.”
Ranulf took another step forward, the dogs still keeping pace with him. “It wasnae the Campbells. After we found my father, I tracked riders back to Sholbray Manor.”
“That’s nae—”
“And I hid in the rain beneath the drawing room window and I heard yer father and Wallace boasting about how they and Berling murdered my father. I heard them say it, and I saw their faces.” Anger clipped his voice. Charlotte could hear it clearly, just as she could hear the truth in his words. She kept her attention on him; if, when, he moved, she would drag Rowena to safety because that was what he would be worried about. Just as she was terrified for him now.
“That’s not the end of the story, though, is it?” Gerdens-Dailey said, turning his head to look at Ranulf.
“That’s all I mean to say in front of these cowards. If ye want more, ye’ll put that away and stand where we can speak, two men together.”
“Ha,” Berling bit out. “If you think any of—”
“Shut yer mouth, Donald,” his cousin interrupted, and pocketed his pistol.
“Arran, call the dogs,” Ranulf ordered.
His face white and tense, Arran did as he said. Slowly, clearly reluctant and their tails down, the dogs left Ranulf’s side and slunk over to stand beside his brother. While Charlotte held her breath, Ranulf and George Gerdens-Dailey approached each other, stopping beside an old, leaning elm tree.
“What are they doing?” Winnie whispered, twisting her head to look.
“They’re talking.” She had no idea whether it was the wisest course of action or not—despite the fact, or because of the fact, that this was precisely what she’d urged him to do.
“But they hate each other.”
Charlotte nodded. “Very likely. But I think they also have a great deal in common.”
“When they surrounded us, I thought… I thought they were going to murder Arran. And then—I don’t know what they would have done to me.”
Hugging the younger lady, Charlotte kept her gaze on the two men. “All you need to remember is that you and Arran and Ranulf are all well. With all of us here, nothing’s going to happen now.”
“But what about tomorrow? What if they go to the Lansfield ball tomorrow?” She shuddered. “What if one of them asks me to dance?”
“You will tell them no,” she returned, wishing mightily that she could hear what the two men were saying.
She understood why Gerdens-Dailey wanted to know for once and certain what had happened to his father, just as Ranulf had wanted to know. But if Ranulf confessed to two murders, especially to the son of one of his victims, he could well find himself in prison. Even hanged, if the English courts could be influenced to rid the Highlands of its most stubborn, troublesome resident.
After what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes, Gerdens-Dailey gave a stiff nod and turned away. “We’re finished here,” he stated.
Berling scowled. “But—”
The earl’s cousin strode forward and grabbed the earl by the throat. “We two need to have a talk, ourselves,” he growled, “about why yer father lied to me.” He shoved, and Berling stumbled backward, nearly falling to the street.
“I don’t—”
“Glengask, ye’d best be there, or I’ll come looking fer ye,” Gerdens-Dailey interrupted his cousin again.
“I’ll be there. But not because ye’ll come looking fer me.”
With a nod, George Gerdens-Dailey led the way to a standing group of horses. In less than a minute they’d ridden around a corner and out of sight. Only then did Charlotte begin breathing again, her knees feeling wobbly.
“Dogs, off. Come,” Ranulf said, slapping his thigh. Immediately the hounds’ tails went up, and they romped over to him again.
Arran followed a few steps behind. “Where is it ye’re supposed to be, precisely?” he asked, then pulled his older brother into a hard embrace. “And thank ye. That was aboot to get unpleasant.”
Ranulf hugged him back, then caught up Rowena. “All’s well,piuthar.Dunnae fret.”
“Charlotte said everything would be fine.”
