Tender Feud

Apparently Argyll was momentarily willing to overlook such disrespect, however, for he made a dismissing gesture with his hand. “As I said, shall we get on with it? I presume you wished to discuss the matter of your criminal activities.”

“Ah, yes.” Raith’s tone was soft yet caustic. “My criminal activities.” Casually turning, he sauntered across the room to lean a shoulder negligently against the stone wall, subtly taunting the duke with his lack of concern. “Shall we consider the weak case you have against me?”

“Weak? I should hardly call the evidence against you weak.”

“I beg to differ. My most serious crime is bride-stealing.”

The duke stared, as did Katrine. “Bride-stealing?” the gentleman demanded.

“Surely you’ve heard the term before, your grace.”

The duke waited impatiently. Raith smiled, not a nice smile.

“I’m only guilty of wanting Katrine for my wife, that is all. As any true Scotsman knows, bride-stealing still occurs here in the Highlands. No Scottish court would convict a man for following such a time-honored custom.”

He paused, waiting for his words to sink in. Katrine gazed at him in confusion. She could have pointed out that he had adamantly refused to marry her, but she had no intention of aligning herself on Argyll’s side. And without her testimony, the case against Raith was weak. Rather than punish a man for bride-stealing, a Scottish court would be more likely to wish the new bride well, even if she had been taken against her will.

Argyll apparently agreed, for he suddenly pursued another tack. “You demanded conditions for Miss Campbell’s return. That, it seems to me, would substantiate the charge of abduction.”

“I suggest you reread the missive I sent you more carefully, your grace. The worst I could be accused of is greed. My demand for decreased rents could easily be interpreted as a substitution for my future wife’s dowry. The leniency I asked for the Duart MacLeans could just as easily be taken as negotiations for the bride-price. A gesture of goodwill on your part would be expected upon the joining of our clans.”

Katrine caught her breath at this new claim. Dowry, indeed! He must only recently have put that particular construction on his ransom demand, she decided, for only within the past month had Raith changed his mind about marrying her. Claiming a desire to wed her gave him a defense that might very well save his life, and if providing himself with a defense hadn’t been his intention, then helping the Duart MacLeans had. He wouldn’t abandon his clansmen, Katrine knew very well. What better way to aid them than to claim decreased rents for the MacLeans as her dowry?

She stared at Raith with a measure of indignation. The first possibility made her feel used, the second made her feel bought. But whatever his reasoning, it was becoming obvious to her now that Raith had prepared an answer for all of the charges Argyll was likely to bring against him. Raith was clever enough to have planned for every eventuality, yet he had let her assume the worst—that he was about to be convicted and hanged. He had known all along that he was in no danger of losing his life, but he had deliberately let her think so, when he could have allayed her fears.

Remembering the nightmare of uncertainty she had endured since Raith’s appearance last night, Katrine clenched her hands. He had shamelessly played on her sympathies, letting her weep in his arms and plead with him to escape when he had planned all along to extricate himself from this dilemma with no help from her. She wanted to tell Raith precisely what she thought of such underhanded dealing, but she clamped her lips together as she listened to the duke raise new charges and Raith shoot them down one by one.

“What of my seal ring that you stole?” Argyll asked.

“The ring I allegedly appropriated, you mean.”

“Appropriated, then. It was in your possession—my factor received it from you last night.”

“Who’s to say you didn’t lose it? Who’s to say I didn’t simply find it and return it to the rightful owner?”

“I suppose you mean to deny the theft of my cattle?”

Raith shrugged. “What proof do you have?”

Argyll’s angry flush deepened. “I don’t require proof. I could hang you simply on the suspicion of theft. No doubt I could find enough witnesses willing to claim you took part in the raids.”

“Whether it was true or not. Ah, yes, I’m aware of your brand of Campbell justice.” Raith stared grimly, pinning the duke with his hard gaze. “But hang me, and the Highlands will erupt. You know it. Do you want that kind of bloodshed on your hands?”

Argyll was silent for a long while, a muscle working in his jaw. “I could keep you incarcerated here,” he said finally.

“For how long? I’ve already had a dozen opportunities to escape. My own men could have freed me any time since I arrived. And as you can see, I’ve had a visit from my lovely intended wife, urging me to escape.”

Raith glanced at Katrine, giving her the slightest of bows. Katrine responded with a cool glare. During the past few moments she had lost her dread of the duke, in favor of her growing anger at Raith. He was taking a great deal for granted.

He didn’t seem to notice her impending revolt, though, for his attention immediately returned to the duke. “I repeat, bride-stealing is my most serious crime…as yet…but my clan is willing to continue the feud. We are even willing to take up the sword, if necessary.”

The duke turned his scowl on Katrine then. “Your uncle tells me you won’t agree to testify against this man. I suppose you can’t be brought to change your mind?”

Enduring Argyll’s accusing look, she lifted her chin. “No, your grace. I regret to say I don’t want his death on my conscience.”

The futility of further argument must have become apparent to Argyll, for he sighed as he turned back to Raith. “What is it that you want? I suppose there is a purpose to all this?”

“My purpose is simple, your grace. I seek to protect my clansmen from the travesty of your stewardship and your Campbell greed.”