Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Leith
The interrogation goes on for over an hour, as the communication is slow and halting.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Do you know what you witnessed in the graveyard?”
“Will anyone come looking for you?”
At the last question, her face falls and she shakes her head. I’m sorry to tell you, but no. She looks so mournful, that I decide to give her a break.
I hate how hot and stifling it is, and decide I need to get out. Islan will be here any moment with the phone, so as soon as she is, we’ll head outside.
I pace back and forth in the study, trying to get my bearings. Trying to understand what to do next. What will I do with this woman? I feel like I’ve rescued a defenseless puppy who was orphaned or some such shite. If I release her back into the wild, whatever happens to her is on fucking me.
I can’t let her go anyway, since she was witness to a crime. I know I can’t, and if my father’s reaction was any indication at all, after leading the Cowen Clan for decades, I know he thinks I’ve been far too easy on her. His words from a lecture days before ring in my ears, over and over again.
“If you’re to be a man of this Clan, and the fucking leader, you don’t hesitate to mete out punishment that’s due, nor do you ever back down in the face of taking a life for the protection of the Clan.
” I know it, don’t I bloody fucking know it.
I didn’t take the job as a damn cobbler or stone mason, or one of the men of the mines. Sometimes I wish I had.
Tavish was fearless. He’d have known exactly what to do.
It seems Tavish always made the right decision, the brave decision, the one that made my father proud and strengthened the Clan.
I don’t know if it’s something like hero worship or if my memory’s flawed, though.
It was his fearlessness and bravery that led him to his death.
I stride to the window at the furthest end of the room, the one that overlooks the small Cowen family graveyard behind my family home.
The grave in the furthest corner of the lot is bordered with the hearty purple heather native to our land, sturdy enough to withstand the bitter cold. Mum visits every damn week.
I’ll visit soon. I’ve been telling myself that since he died, but for some reason I haven’t done it.
A gentle knock comes on the door seconds before Islan barges in.
“Here you go!” she says with a grin, holding a sleek white box.
“You were damn lucky Paisley was in town when you called, brother.” She rolls her eyes at Cairstina.
“We live here in the bloody boondocks, takes ages to get there and back for an errand.” She winks at her.
“You’ll thank me later, lass, I had her get a top of the line phone there.
Better than my own damn mobile.” She tosses it to me and I catch it mid-air.
“Since you were buying, I had her pick up a wee pressie for myself, too,” she says with a grin.
In her palm lies a small white box. Of course I’ve no idea what the hell it is, and I don’t fucking care.
“Thanks, Islan, this is brilliant. Thank Paisley for me. Now off with you.”
“This is brilliant,” she repeats to Cairstina as she heads for the door.
“It’s the kindest thing he’s ever said to me.
” She opens the door and yells over her shoulder just before she shuts it.
“You should be happy you’ve found yourself a mute woman, Leith.
The one and only that’ll never talk back to you. ”
Slam.
My father spoiled the fucking lot of them.
I look over to Cairstina, shocked to see her shoulders are shaking. Is she crying? Why the hell is she crying? I walk to her, as she wipes her eyes, and I suddenly realize she’s laughing.
“Don’t even think about following her lead, woman,” I say with warning in my voice. “She gets herself in plenty of trouble.”
Cairstina scribbles on the pad.
No doubt.
I mutter to myself as I call William, our tech help, and minutes later, her phone is working.
Cairstina’s fingers fly over the keys as she sends me a text.
Oh this is so much easier. Thank you, Leith.
I can’t explain why a little thrill of excitement goes through me at seeing her words on a screen, like I can almost hear her voice. It’d be pretty and soothing, feminine but strong.
“You’re welcome.”
She smiles at me, but I turn away.
I brought her here as my prisoner. I can’t help it if everything about her attracts me, even if I know we’re in danger. I can’t soften, even for someone like her.
“Who will miss you while you’re away?” I ask, not telling her I have no intention of ever returning her.
A shadow crosses her features, as she texts me her response.
No one, except maybe Father MacGowen, but weeks go by without us seeing one another, so I’d be surprised if even he misses me.
I’m not fucking made of steel, so that makes my heart ache for her.
“I see. Good. I don’t want anyone following you.”
No worries then.
I stand abruptly. “I want to take you outside. Can’t stand being in the fucking house this long, drives me mad.”
A text buzzes on my phone.
Okay. Sounds good. Do you have something for me to wear?
“Of course.”
I have the staff fetch us an overcoat, boots, and a hat for her, and I get into my own warmer wrappings to go outside. I have no plan as to where to take her, but find as we’re walking that I’m heading to the cemetery. My phone buzzes.
Where are we?
“I won’t tell you that, and you’re not allowed to speak unless I’ve spoken to you first.” She frowns but doesn’t reply, but before I can speak again, her boot hits a patch of ice.
Her mouth parts in a silent gasp, as she pitches forward.
I grab her by the elbow and quickly right her, holding her body up to mine to steady her.
She pants hard, surprised from the near fall, and stares into my eyes.
“You okay?”
She nods. I don’t know what it is about this woman, but I’m intrigued by her, drawn to her in a way I’ve never felt before. I want to kiss her more. I want to taste her. I want to do so much more to her.
I hold her hand, just to be sure she doesn’t fall again. Her gloved fingers meld softly with mine. I like the feel of her palm against mine.
Am I growing soft lately?
I wonder what goes through that mind of hers. I wonder what she thinks of. I’ll have to learn to read her body language better than I have. I have so very much to learn about her.
Her pensive face looks about us as we walk to the graveyard, but my eyes rest on a hooded figure several yards ahead. I know who it is, though, so I’m not at all surprised when my grandmother turns at the sound of our footsteps.
“Well, hello there, Leith,” she says gently, her blue eyes gentle and kind.
I nod. “Nan.” She’s my mother’s mother, ninety-seven years old and spritely. She lives in one of the small chalets that dot the outskirts of our property, and in recent years has agreed to allow us to send in a cook, cleaning staff, and an in-residence caretaker. “What are you doing here alone?”
Her voice is a bit wobbly when she speaks. I hadn’t noticed that before.
“Oh, just visiting your brother’s grave,” she says with a wistful sigh. “So young he was, Leith.”
I exhale silently. I didn’t want to speak of this in front of Cairstina, not yet.
Then why did you bring her here? My conscience lectures.
“That isn’t what I asked, Nan.” Though I try to gentle my voice, I don’t modulate the stern tone. I want her to know I disapprove of her coming out to these snowy, icy parts alone. Hell, with her recent history, I wouldn’t allow her to come out here alone even if it were bright and sunny.
“Well, wanted a wee bit of a walk,” she says.
“Micah fell asleep. Now don’t be too harsh on him, Leith.
I like being alone sometimes.” Micah is her caretaker, and he’ll answer for this.
She turns to the grave, kisses her gloved fingers, then pats the rounded top.
“He was a good boy,” she says softly. “I remember the day he was born.”
She shivers, and I realize she’s got to be cold. She’s wearing nothing but a thin overcoat despite wearing a hat and gloves.
“For pity’s sake, you can’t be coming down here without your coat.” I shrug out of mine and make her put it on. She rolls her eyes, but I can tell it pleases her.
“Now who’s this you’ve got with you?” she asks, her eyes twinkling.
“Visitor. Name’s Cairstina.”
She smiles and nods to Cairstina. “Oh, pleased to meet you, lass. Won’t you come back with me to my house?”
Cairstina looks to me, and I nod, pleased she’s deferred to me.
“She can’t speak, Nan.”
Nan can’t hide the surprise on her face. “Is that right, lass?”
Cairstina nods.
“Well, we say quite a few things without ever using our words at all, don’t we, Leith?” She gives me a wink, and speaks softly, as if to herself. “Daresay most of what we say, we say in silence. Now, you two come back to the house with me, will you?”
It isn’t until she starts walking up the hill I see a pretty pink roller attached smack dab in the back of her hair.
“Take my arm, please.”
Nan waits until I get to her and obeys, smiling at Cairstina. “He’s always like this, just so you know,” she mutters. “Bossy from the womb, he was.”
Cairstina smiles.
We walk toward her chalet, and Nan talks about the days of her childhood, how after Christmas the church and the surrounding village would call it Christmas until the Feast of the Epiphany.
“None of this December nonsense,” she mutters. “We knew something as special as the birth of the Christ Child deserved more than a few days of celebration.”
Nan’s the most religious of our lot, and she either doesn’t have a clue what it is we do privately or thinks the holy water she sprinkles around the estate will somehow get us past the pearly gates.
We walk with her back to her house, as we listen to her stories. Though Cairstina can’t speak, she nods her head eagerly, and is as attentive a listener as one could hope for. She holds my right arm and Nan my left.