Down the Rabbit Hole

“He was not my father. And his precious name will not pay my debts, nor put food on my table.”


“When the laird wed your mother, he offered her children his name. Yet you refused, and claimed that of your mother’s clan instead.”

Still hot with anger, Ian’s voice rose. “I bear my mother’s name proudly. And though she accepted your father’s gold, she accepted neither his name nor his clan as her own.”

Their guests wore looks that ranged from shock to horror.

“You think to dishonor me, Ian. But in truth, you dishonor yourself, along with the woman who bore you and the clan that sheltered you.”

Edwina rushed to Ian’s side and locked her hands on his arm, physically restraining him from reaching for the dirk at his waist. “You are distraught, brother. Go now and return your horse to the stable.”

He looked at her as though she were mad.

Her voice rose. “And then you will ask forgiveness of our laird.”

“He is not my—”

She silenced him with a hand on his mouth before leaning close enough to whisper in his ear.

He shot her a triumphant look before turning away.

She smiled up at Colin. “My brother’s blood runs hot with the hunt. But when he has had time to cool his temper, he will realize how deeply he has hurt his brother-laird.”

She turned to the lads, who continued to hold the bloody carcass of the stag, and dared to give orders like a queen. “Do with this as the laird instructs you.”

She lifted her skirts and turned away, with the other women gathering around her and chattering like geese as they made their way to the lodge.

And all the while, Colin sat stone-faced on his horse, watching as Ian disappeared inside the stable.

When they were alone, Beth reached over to touch a hand to Colin’s arm. “I fear for your safety. There is something I need to tell you. Something I overheard that troubles me . . .”

He seemed unaware of her words as he turned in the saddle to Jamie. “You will tally the kill, so that we may reward our hunters at the banquet this night.”

Beth looked stunned. “After that scene with Ian, you would hold a banquet?”

“It is customary for the laird to offer his guests a feast and to reward those who deserve it.”

“But . . .”

He silenced her with a wave of his hand before slipping from the saddle to take her reins. “Forgive me, my lady. I know you are troubled, as am I.” He helped her dismount and closed a hand over hers, squeezing it gently as though to reassure her.

He leaned close to press a kiss to her cheek. “Go inside now and allow Maura and the servants to help you bathe and dress for tonight’s banquet.”

“And you?” She looked up into his eyes and saw something dark and dangerous before he managed to blink it away.

“I, also, must prepare.”

He turned away.

While Jamie began leading the horses toward the stable, Colin turned toward the gardens, his head bowed, his manner thoughtful.

Though Beth yearned to go after him, she knew she had to respect his need for privacy.

As she entered the lodge and climbed the stairs to her room, her thoughts were in turmoil. She fully intended to warn Colin about the threat she’d overheard. If he chose to scoff at it, she would do whatever it took to convince him to take it seriously. She was more convinced than ever that his life was truly in danger.

Ian’s hatred was now so out of control, he’d revealed it to the entire company. Only a man bent on violence would show such utter disrespect to a much-loved Highland laird.

The look in Ian’s eyes in that moment before Edwina intervened spoke volumes about what was truly in his heart.