Page 73 of Highlander’s Captive

“Aye. What I’d like to ken is where is the red-haired woman Lachlan was with.”

Craig walked towards Amy.

“I hope she isn’t dead somewhere in a ditch,” she said.

Craig stopped before her. He put his fingers under her chin and lifted it. He locked his eyes with hers, trying to see what was behind them—her thoughts, her feelings. Trying to read if she was telling the truth. “Answer me this. To honor our night together and what we’ve shared, I will only ask ye once and whatever yer answer is, I will believe ye.”

Her eyes widened a bit, a barely noticeable trace of fear on her face. She swallowed. “Yes, Craig.”

“Did ye have anything to do with this?”

Her eyes widened even more, her eyebrows snapping together, anger on her face. “What? Of course not!”

Craig nodded. “And do ye ken if yer family might be behind this?”

“I have no idea who’s behind this, Craig.”

She was angry, aye. And she seemed genuine. He’d promised her he’d believe her, and that was what he’d do—even though a voice in his head screamed at him not to trust her.

He nodded again, curtly. “Then that’s that. We will speak nae more of it. Come. I need to speak to Owen and the watchmen. And ye need to eat something.”

Owen sat hunched over a cup in the great hall, which was full of Craig’s men and the villagers. They sat quietly, most of them still drunk. Several men lay unconscious or snoring on the tables. One of them was Hamish—his clothes were covered with vomit, and some of it dripped down his beard.

Craig came to Owen and sat across the table from him. Owen glanced up, his mouth twisting in a mournful grimace.

“What were ye thinking?” Craig said.

Owen shook his head once, looking into the cup. “Ye ken what I was thinking. What I always think. Everything will be fine. Everyone’s too serious, especially ye. Life is boring.”

“I should send ye to Father if ye’re too bored here. War will quickly wipe those thoughts away.”

“Do as ye see fit.”

Craig sighed. He should punish Owen, show him that the consequences of such actions are grave. But Owen seemed to have already grasped that. He’d liked Lachlan. Everyone had. His death was related to Owen’s misconduct, no doubt. And since Owen clearly felt guilty, he was already punishing himself.

“Just tell me what happened,” Craig said. “Somehow, I must find out who killed him. And why.”

Owen nodded. “Aye. I just thought since ye were going to be gone with Amy for the whole day, I’d invite a few local lasses to a feast. Lachlan and some others came, and the word got out. Some mothers wouldn’t let their daughters go alone, so then fathers, mothers, and brothers joined. Before I knew it, half the village came. It got out of hand, Craig.”

Craig sighed. Aye, he wasn’t surprised it had.

“Ye think, brother? Lachlan was a good man.”

“Do ye think I dinna ken that?” Owen thumped his fist against the table.

“Aye. Well. Now tell me, did he argue with someone? From the village or from our men? Was someone angry at him?”

“I didna see.”

“What about the woman he was with, do ye ken who she is?”

“The red-haired one? I think she was with that family over there.”

An older man and a middle-aged woman sat by the fire, wide-eyed.

“I will speak to them. She hasna appeared since?”

“Nae.”