To Steal a Highlander's Heart(27)

Alana took a tentative step forward and Margot lifted her arm, eyeing her from under it. “So yer no longer a prisoner?”

“I am no longer confined to my chambers, at least.”

“Morgann’s chambers, ye mean.” Margot moved sinuously to her feet and strolled over to the main table. Pouring some wine, she eyed Alana over the brim as she took a sip. “He didnae harm ye did he?”

Unease settled in Alana’s chest. She doubted Margot cared for her welfare so what game was the woman playing? “Nay, of course not.”

Chin up, Alana stepped over to the table and helped herself to an empty goblet, copying Margot’s movements and taking a large gulp of wine.

Margot smirked. “Ye are lucky then. Morgann is not the man he used to be, Alana. Ye’d do well to avoid angering him. I dinnae know what he was thinking bringing ye here.”

“Morgann wouldnae harm me, he swore it.”

“Ye have not noticed a change in him?”

Alana shifted her feet, glancing down briefly. Of course she’d noticed a change in him. He carried around a great weight on those vast shoulders. Whether it was his father’s illness or the constant fighting that caused the deep furrows in his brow and the jaded look in his eyes, she didn't know, but she didn't like what Margot implied. Morgann was no liar and the man who had been her friend was still there, just hidden.

"Aye, he is changed. Indeed he has grown much since I saw him last." Alana grinned. "In fact I think he may be a whole head taller."

Eyes narrow, Margot dropped her goblet, wine sloshing over the rim as it clunked on the table. "Ach, yer a fool. He'll only use ye. Ye must make yer escape while ye can." She edged toward her. "Ye are in grave danger. He is bitter and jealous and it eats at him."

"I already attempted an escape. 'Twas none to successful."

"Aye," Margot's lips twisted, "‘twas a sight to be seen. But ye must try harder."

"Why do ye care anyway? Should ye not be supporting yer laird in his decisions?"

"He is not my laird!" she spat. "My husband is my laird. Morgann will never be laird."

Alana took a step back, the venomous tone taking her by surprise. Why would Morgann never be laird? What did she mean? She wasn't sure she wanted to know. Anger and something sinister darkened Margot's eyes, forcing Alana to hold the questions on her tongue.

"Trust me," Margot continued when Alana failed to respond, "ye dinnae want to make the mistake of trusting Morgann. Jealously will drive a man to much desperation."

"What does he have to be jealous of?"

Pausing to secure her gaze on her, a smile slid across Margot's face. "Me."

"Ye?"

"Aye. He loved me ye see. Wanted me for himself. And then I married his father. He's not been the same since. Why he's even accused me of witchcraft."

Alana blinked. Morgann loved Margot? Surely he would have confided in her when they were friends? A sharp twisting pain stabbed at her heart. But he'd said there was something he never told her. Could that have been it? And witchcraft? It was hardly an accusation to take lightly. Morgann surely knew that saying such a thing might see Margot burned. While Alana didn't trust the woman, she'd never stoop to accusing even her worst enemy of witchcraft. Morgann had to be driven by something very grave indeed. Or… mayhap wild jealousy provoked him.

Alana twisted away and blindly sought the arched doorway. When she stepped outside, she scanned the walls for any sign of Morgann but he was nowhere. The man was so reticent, it was enough to drive her mad. If she confronted him about Margot, would he even admit as much? She barely managed to get two words of explanation from him as it was. Only that this wasn’t about revenge. She sorely hoped it wasn’t. The thought of him caring for that woman made her hands curl into fists.

Well, if he wanted to be so shady then let him. She threw up her chin and strutted down the steps. For she had better things to think on. Like how she was going to escape his clutches for good.





Chapter Six


The air in his father’s chambers smelled sour. Morgann eyed the shrivelled old man surrounded by pillows and blankets and sighed. Hard to believe his father had once been a great leader, bringing about peace and many victories for the MacRaes. Ranald MacRae was respected far and wide.

Floorboards squeaked as he stepped carefully across the room, candle flames flickering as he brushed by, and his father awoke. It took a moment for him to focus on Morgann and he grinned in recognition.

“Morgann, lad, ‘tis good to see ye. Is all well?”

Morgann resisted the need to wince at his father’s scratchy voice and how he greeted him as if he hadn’t seen him in days. Which was likely true. He avoided seeing his father, using his duties as an excuse. The sight of his father so decrepit tore at him, made his gut clench with despair.