Page 80 of The Laird's Secret Bairn

Stephen stood by Dougal’s side, a hand on his shoulder. “Am I truly seeing what I think I’m seeing?” he asked.

Dougal wasn’t sure how to respond. All he could do was nod.

This was not the Angus he remembered from seven years ago. This was not the man who had consistently accused him of killing Elsie. This man was something else entirely.

“Ye tried to kill yer own granddaughter,” Dougal spat.

Angus glanced at him, but it seemed as if he were looking right through him. “Nay, I wouldnae do such a thing, but I understand why ye think so.”

Dougal laughed bitterly. “Ye expect me to believe ye after everything ye have done?”

“I willnae admit to something I didnae do, but I am guilty. Guilty of caring more for me honor than me daughter,” Angus rasped. “And for that, I am sorry. I want to put this behind us. Let us sign a peace treaty. Perhaps I can even meet the girl.”

Stephen’s jaw dropped. “Me Laird?—”

Dougal shot him a look. “Me man-at-arms has concerns, as do I, which I’m sure ye can understand.”

Angus nodded. “But ken that I didnae poison the child. I would never do such a thing.”

“I daenae want to believe ye. How did ye even find out what happened?”

“Servants talk.” It was as good an explanation as any.

Dougal hated the fact that he was starting to believe him. The man had done nothing but lie for years, deluding himself into believing something untrue. But the devastation in his eyes alone made Dougal think he might be telling the truth.

“But do ye believe me?” Angus asked.

“Aye, and that means someone in me castle tried to kill me daughter.”

That frightened Dougal more than if Angus had done it. Angus being the culprit made sense. As twisted as his reasoning was, Dougal understood why he would take such measures. But what reason would someone in his own castle have to poison his daughter?

They must have done it to get to him. He had made his fair share of enemies over the years, and one of them was living under his roof.

The thought angered him such that his fists clenched at his sides.

“We will leave ye for now,” he muttered, turning to leave.

“Does that mean ye accept the treaty?” Angus called after him.

Dougal didn’t say anything. He just kept walking, not trusting himself to speak until he had considered everything.

“Dougal,” Stephen muttered.

“When we get outside,” Dougal hissed.

Even if Angus was willing to sign a peace treaty, Dougal wasn’t going to talk in his castle. Anyone could be listening.

Stephen found Dougal in his tent that night, having ridden hard for two days only to find their campaign unraveling in ways neither of them had expected.

Dougal had expected Angus to put up a fight, but the man had done the exact opposite. He had proposed to sign a peace treaty.

Had someone told him this was what Angus planned to do, he would have laughed right in their face. The Angus he knew and remembered would never propose a peace treaty, especially not after blaming him for Elsie’s death for years. His rage had been too great, or so Dougal had thought.

He wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. It was like everything had been turned upside down in less than a week, and the blame lay with Angus, treaty or no treaty.

“Ye’re quiet,” Stephen noted, settling onto the stool across from him. “I expected ye to be sharpening yer blade, nae staring into the fire like a man lost in his thoughts.”

“I daenae ken what to make of what Angus said to me.”