Caird huffed.
Malcolm looked intrigued. ‘But you didn’t claim it last night.’
‘And her gown is heavily worn and frayed,’ Caird added.
She turned to Caird. ‘What my family spends their money on is none of your concern. This might not even be my real gown.’
‘Imagine my not knowing what’s real,’ he replied.
‘And I thought last night was interesting,’ Malcolm drawled. ‘My brother clearly does not believe you and this is nae ordinary gem.’
She felt like roaring in frustration and helplessness. She wanted the nightmare over and these Colquhouns were making it worse. ‘It matters not if you won’t believe—’
Malcolm shook his head. ‘But it seemed the thief knew you.’
Caird folded his arms across his chest and nodded. ‘Aye.’
‘So, who is she?’ Malcolm pointedly asked Caird.
Expectantly, Mairead looked at Caird; surely he’d reveal her clan identity now. But Caird stayed quiet, his expression only darkening.
Malcolm smirked. ‘She spent the night and you still doona know her name? Brother, you have always been a man of few words, but I think one or two to ask this lass’s name wouldn’t have been untoward.’
Hating the conclusions Malcolm was making, she threw a knowing smile at Caird. ‘Mairead of Clan—’
‘Enough introductions,’ Caird interrupted. ‘We need to find this thief.’
Malcolm’s brows rose as he noted Caird’s interruption, but he didn’t comment and neither did she. If Caird didn’t want Malcolm to know who she was, she didn’t need to know these Colquhouns either.
She just needed to return home. For a moment, she was tempted to find the thief on her own. Her grief was once again scraping across her skin, demanding she confront Ailbert’s killer. But she had to focus on the dagger and return with it before the Buchanan laird realised her brother’s debt.
Unfortunately, it was in the hands of self-righteous Colquhouns. As much as she would love the gem as well, she had to fake a compromise.
‘Ach!’ She swept across the room and picked up the dagger and handle. ‘Keep the gem, do with it what you may, but this I’ll keep.’
‘’Tis broken,’ Malcolm said.
Mairead didn’t reply. There was something odd about the dagger. The blade was still attached to its handle. The second piece was smaller, and she realised it was the handle’s tip. Carefully, she put the pieces together. They fit. The dagger had a hollow handle and the lid to the handle had come loose.
‘Give that to me,’ Caird said.
She hugged the dagger to her chest. ‘Nae, it is mine. What do you care for this dagger when you have the true prize?’
‘Do we?’ Caird replied. ‘And you will go with us.’
‘I’ll go nowhere with you.’
‘The thief,’ he said.
‘Is free and going south, aye, I know and doona care,’ she lied. ‘I have what I came for.’
‘I think my brother meant you’ll need to come with us,’ Malcolm said.
‘And I told you I won’t.’
‘The thief was going south, but he didn’t like it,’ Malcolm continued calmly. ‘He knows the dagger is still here.’
She’d go nowhere with a Colquhoun. She went around Malcolm. He didn’t stop her from reaching the door.
‘He could be outside the door,’ Malcolm continued.
‘With sword drawn,’ Caird added.
Mairead halted. They were right. But she wasn’t done with them. She whirled around. ‘He wouldn’t have a sword if you hadn’t given it to him.’ She pointed at Malcolm. ‘And he wouldn’t be anywhere near here if you hadn’t just set him free!’
‘Enough,’ Caird said. ‘You’ll go with us. We’ll find the thief and who truly owns the dagger and gem.’
Oh, she was angry now. ‘Because you think that’s right. Because you think you’re correct. But you’re not! This dagger was my brother’s.’
‘Was?’ Caird walked to the bed and grabbed his sword. ‘Perhaps we should talk to your brother first.’
She didn’t want to think of her brother. She didn’t even want these arrogant Colquhouns to mention the word brother.
‘The devil have you!’ she yelled. Yanking the door open, she flew out, satisfied by the crash of the door against the wall.
She had barely reached the second stair before she was lifted off her feet and tossed over a shoulder. It was Caird. She hated the very sight of his bare back. Almost as much as she hated how she recognised him just by the width of his hands on her waist.
‘Release me!’ she demanded.
He huffed and started to return to the room. She raised the dagger, blade pointed at his back.
He suddenly pivoted and flung her against the wall. She dropped the dagger.
‘Owwww!’ She pounded on his back and tried to twist out of his grasp.
Her head and arm hurt, but not as much as her pride. ‘Put me down.’
Malcolm grabbed the dagger.
‘That’s mine!’ she cried.
‘Stop yelling,’ Caird said.
‘I will when—’
Whoosh. She hit the stairs so hard her teeth clacked together.
‘Better,’ he said, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet.
She reached for the dagger, but Malcolm took a couple of steps back.
‘I hate to break up this little dance, but Caird, what are you doing?’
‘Catching a thief.’
‘What of Gaira’s wedding celebrations?’
Caird stopped so suddenly, Mairead tripped and he tugged her arm to keep her upright. She tried to tug back, but his fingers dug into her arm and he drew her up against him. She pushed, but it was like pushing against a mountain. A very stubborn mountain.
Looking back
