Page 63 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

Fiona nodded, looking preoccupied. "Of course. I never thought anything else," she said thoughtfully.

Beside her, Aileen's eyes shone with tears. "I didnae mean tae think badly of Mother, but I...it looked like—" Out of the blue, Aileen began sobbing, pressing her small head into Fiona's arm. Her long ginger tresses fell haphazardly across her clan robe. Unlike Fiona, the younger lass was dressed more plainly, in a simple white arisaid.

Fiona stroked her sister's hair and smiled. "I ken, my dear. An' wi' yer brave help, we now have proof that Paton is a blaggard an' a churl!"

Aileen pulled her head up and nodded. Drying her eyes, she quickly scrambled to her feet. Grace watched her straightening herself in alarm; Aileen made for the door.

"Aileen, where are ye going?" Grace asked. She could see the look in the girl's eyes and knew what it meant.

"I'm going tae have it oot wi' him!" she snarled. The young lass's face was full of fury. "How dare he do this tae us—tae ye!"

But Grace stopped her. Taking her gently by the hand, she stood in Aileen's way, and Fiona came beside her.

"I can look after mysel', Aileen," said Grace, not unkindly. "Ye’re nae tae go near Paton. He's a dangerous piece o' work."

Beside her, Fiona concurred. "Aye, Aileen," she said softly. "Ye stay here now. This is for me an' Grace tae sort out."

Fiona's eyes met Grace's assuredly. Grace nodded. She was ready to go in search of Paton when Aileen looked at her thoughtfully.

"If Paton wants rid o' ye, Grace, why's he so keen tae marry ye?"

"Grace, my dear, I hope ye have seen sense now." Paton smiled calmly. He was in his chambers, sitting regally in the carved chair that used to be her father's.

Grace started. She had never thought of Marcus as her father before. And, of course, she only knew about the chair because Fiona had told her. But still, it grated on her.

With Fiona beside her, Grace led the way.

"Aye," she said, striding into the chambers. She made a great show of looking about the place, her eyes drawn to the ceremonial portraits at the side of the room. Grace's eyes alighted on the portrait of Marcus Duncan. For a second time, she wondered if she looked like him. And once again, she caught herself thinking about the woman who had borne her. She did not suppose there were any ceremonial portraits of her.

Grace's eyes had glazed over; without knowing it, she had retreated into her own world for a while. Then, aware of Paton's eyes upon her, she started.

"So then, lassie," said Paton, with a faux-genial look that made Grace want to punch him, "ye've decided tae see sense, at last."

"Aye, at last," said Grace, triumphant. She thrust the letters in his face. "An' now we ken everything about ye an' Anabelle's plans!"

There was silence as Paton's tricky eyes darted across the room from one side to another.

"Do ye now? Well, ye'll never prove it!" he said finally. A smirk extended across his face.

Grace looked at him with pure hatred. "Care to read?" she said smoothly. Out of her pouch, she pulled a freshly sealed scroll and proffered it to Paton.

"Thank ye," he said, without looking. "I can save ye the trouble."

He flashed his rotting black teeth at Grace, who instantly felt sick. Then he cast the parchment into the fire. Fiona gasped, pressing forward to try and grab it. Paton stopped her. He grabbed a poker from the fire and then pressed it forward menacingly.

Grace and Fiona stopped but did not move backward.

"Nay, lasses," Paton said, stepping toward them. His eyes twinkled as if they were chatting about pleasantries. "Now what's the point o' that? Ye'll only hurt yersel’."

He brought the hot iron closer again and smiled.

Grace watched as the color drained out of Fiona's pale cheeks. Taking Fiona's hand, Grace stood firm.

"We ken about Anabelle," said Grace.

Paton laughed. "Och, jealous are we?" he said, smoothly. "There's really no need. Ye are too important tae the plan, but och, really, it would have been simpler tae nae do my duty tae the laird all those years ago."

Now, Grace found herself looking in confusion at Fiona. She had no idea what Paton meant.