Unlaced by the Outlaw (Secrets in Silk) (35 page)

She didn’t understand the truth. He’d done what was expected of him, but he’d resented every moment. “I provided for Jonah and made sure he had a place to live. But I didna want to be a father.” He knew it made him sound like a selfish bastard, but he didn’t want her to view him as a saint. He was a damned sight far from that.

“What happened to your parents?” Margaret asked softly. “I know they drowned, but how did it happen?”

“I don’t want to speak of it.” It had been a long time ago, and there was no reason to dwell upon the past. What was done was done. Naught could change it.

“All right. If that’s what you want.” She lifted her chin and waited. Like a schoolteacher, she sent him an unspoken lecture. But the longer he remained silent, the more he felt her knowing gaze upon him.

He should have been watching his brother that day. His lack of attention had caused the disaster. “It was my fault Jonah wandered off that morning and got into the river.”

There was a slight change in her expression, but her tone remained calm. “Did you swim in after him?”

Cain shook his head. “I canna swim. Ne’er could.” He’d waded in as far as he dared, but the current had swept his brother away.

“So your mother went in the water?” she predicted.

“Aye. She couldna swim either, but she tried. It was too deep for her to reach him.” The memory of his mother’s screams dug into him, even after all these years. “I went to fetch my father.”

She seemed to guess what had happened after that. “You don’t have to tell me.” Slowly she stood and crossed the room, taking his hand in hers.

But now that he’d begun, he saw no reason not to reveal the rest. “My father tried to save them both. He got Jonah to the shore and went back for my mother.” A tightness sealed off the emotions within him. He hadn’t cried that day, and he’d not shed any tears since. Tears were a weakness he would never allow.

Taking a breath, he finished, “It was too late for her. When he learned she was dead, my father stopped swimming. He just held her and didn’t fight anymore. I suppose he didn’t want to live without her.”

Margaret squeezed his hand, and she offered, “I’m sorry you saw it happen.”

Cain didn’t acknowledge her words, not wanting any part of that memory. It had been one of the worst days he’d ever known, with his brother sobbing and both parents gone. He’d been numb with grief, holding his brother and wanting so badly to shut his eyes and pray that it was naught but a nightmare.

“I hated my father for leaving us. He was a coward.” To this day, he’d been unable to let go of his hatred. Any man who would abandon his sons wasn’t worth the grief.

“Jonah was my responsibility after that,” he told her. He’d done what he could to raise the boy, but he’d made so many mistakes.

Her fingers stroked his, and she faced him. “Were you angry at your brother?”

It was a strange thing to say, and he started to deny it. “Nay. He was hardly more than three years old. I was angry with myself and angry with my father.”

“And you’ve been trying to atone for it ever since, haven’t you?” Margaret rested her hand against his shoulder. She was right. There was never peace for him, never a moment when he could forget his parents dying before his eyes.

“I’ve done a poor job of it,” he admitted. “I let another woman raise Jonah, when it should’ve been me.”

“You never asked to become a father.” Margaret stepped back, eyeing him closely as if trying to see beneath the surface. “But you did the best you could. You had to earn a living for both of you.” She framed his face with her hands. “There’s no reason for guilt.”

“Jonah’s just a boy,” Cain said. A boy who was locked away in a prison, suffering every hour. The bleakness of his brother’s fate hung over him like a shadow. “He’s no’ guilty of murder, and I willna let him hang for it.”

Her green eyes met his with honesty. “I know you won’t. And neither will I.”

He pulled her hands from his face, holding them. “This isna your battle, lass.”

“You’ve spent your life fighting for others. For the crofters, for your brother. For me,” she murmured. “Isn’t it time someone fought for you?”

Sitting around and waiting for evidence to emerge was not a productive use of a woman’s time. For that reason, Margaret had hired an investigator a week ago to find more evidence to help with Jonah’s case. Mr. Julian had arrived this morning with his first report.

“Thank you for coming to call,” Margaret said, pouring the man a cup of tea. He eyed her uneasily, though he accepted it. “Have you or your men located Joseph MacKinloch?” She offered him a plate of biscuits, and he accepted one warily.

“Not yet, Miss Andrews,” he answered. The man looked as if he didn’t quite know what to do with the refreshments.

“It is imperative that you locate MacKinloch. The sooner you do, the greater your reward,” Margaret reminded him. “Now tell me what progress you have made.”

“We have tracked him to the west,” Mr. Julian admitted. “My men will not stop searching until they’ve brought him back.”

“Good. But the trial is next week. If he is not found in time, there is no reason to continue the search.” She drank her own tea, trying to remain calm. Cain had spent each day at the prison, and at night, he traveled in search of MacKinloch. She’d hardly seen him at all.

“I understand.” He quickly finished his tea and biscuit, then stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see if any of the runners have returned.”

“Thank you.”

As the man rose to leave, she heard a slight noise of footsteps approaching. Cain walked into the parlor and dropped his hat upon the settee. He glanced back at Mr. Julian as the man was departing. “What was that about, lass?”

“Mr. Julian is an investigator I hired.” She gestured to the seat beside her. “Why don’t you sit and have some refreshments?”

Cain appeared haggard and weary from his visit to the Tolbooth. “I’d be glad of a biscuit. But first, I’m wanting to hear what he learned.”

“Unfortunately, not as much as I’d hoped. His men tracked MacKinloch to the west, but they haven’t found him yet.”

Cain’s expression didn’t change, his exhaustion undeniable. Margaret held out the plate of biscuits, and he sat down across from her, devouring six of them. It occurred to her that she hadn’t seen him at her sister’s table in the last day or so. “When was the last time you ate, Cain?”

“Yesterday, I think. I canna remember.”

It bothered her that he wasn’t taking care of himself. Though it was past luncheon, she pulled the bell. “I’ll have a meal brought to you. If you want to look after Jonah, you’ll have to keep up your strength.”

He didn’t argue, but the tension in him was so taut, she felt the need to do something. “How is he?”

Cain only shrugged, as if her question was foolish. Margaret prompted again, “Have they found any new evidence?”

“Nothing.”

“What does his solicitor think? Have any new witnesses come forward?”

“Nay.”

She was beginning to get frustrated by his terse responses. After she gave the order to the footman to bring Cain a light meal, he rested his forearms upon his knees. “I don’t ken why you’re here, Margaret.”

“Jonah is your brother,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I want to help him?”

“This doesna involve you. It’s no’ your problem to solve.” There was a finality in his voice as if he didn’t want her here. She said nothing, waiting until the food arrived. After the footman served him the fish and roasted vegetables, the silence grew even more strained between them.

“You want me to go back to Ballaloch,” she said.

“Aye. That would be best.” He ate hungrily but hardly even looked at her.

“Why are you pushing me away?” She couldn’t understand why he had become so distant. It was as if he wanted nothing to do with her anymore.

“I want you to be safe, lass. You don’t need to be a part of this.”

It was as if he didn’t think she should witness any unpleasant moments. Margaret leaned closer and said, “I came here to lend my assistance. Once your brother is free, we can go on with our lives. We can . . . marry if you still want to.” It embarrassed her to bring it out into the open, but he needed to know her intentions.

He picked at his food and finally set the fork aside. “I’ve had to spend every penny on a good solicitor for Jonah.” The heaviness in his voice suggested that he had nothing left.

“Of course you had to,” she agreed. “I would expect nothing less.” She braved a smile. “You needn’t worry about money, though. I have funds of my own that I’ll gladly use to help you.”

His blue eyes held a stony pride. “I don’t want your money, Margaret. I ne’er did.”

“I know.” She held out a hand. “But there’s no reason not to use it for the sake of your brother. His life is worth that.”

Cain closed his eyes and shook his head. “ ’Tis more complicated than that, Margaret. I’m afraid they’re going to find him guilty.”

“They won’t,” she reassured him. There was still time before the trial, and she had every faith that the investigator would find something. “Don’t give up.”

“I ne’er said I was giving up. He’ll live, no matter what the cost.” The finality in his voice frightened her even more than the prospect of Jonah’s hanging. What did he mean,
no matter what the cost?

“Are you planning to help him escape the Tolbooth?” she asked, feeling an icy chill overtake her skin. Though Cain might manage it with difficulty, he would become a wanted man, running from the law enforcers. He would become an outlaw in truth.

He stood from his chair, resting his palms upon the back of it. “Edinburgh is too heavily guarded for me to escape with him.”

“Then what do you plan to do?” She couldn’t imagine how he would save his brother if Jonah was found guilty.

The bleakness upon his face held a regret so strong, she couldn’t stop the trembling of her fingers.

“What do you plan to do, Cain?” she repeated.

He said nothing, but took her face between his hands and touched his forehead to hers. “I hope it willna come to that, lass. But if it does, you must take care of Jonah for me.”

She felt as if she were falling into an endless abyss, her words frozen inside. She
knew
his plan,
without him having to speak the words. He was going to confess to a crime he hadn’t committed, in order to save his brother’s life.

And Cain would be the one who would hang for murder.

Chapter Fifteen

C
ain wasn’t prepared for the devastation on Margaret’s face.

“No,” she insisted. “I won’t let you confess to a crime you did not commit.” Her posture straightened, and although every inch of her was neatly pinned and pressed into place, she looked as if she were about to explode. “I won’t let you hang.”

A hanging wasn’t quite what he had in mind. If he lied and said that he had been involved with the murder, they would have to take him into custody. Even if they imprisoned him within the Tolbooth, Cain believed he could get himself out. But Margaret’s reaction was so violent, he realized that she cared more than he’d thought.

“If we find MacKinloch before the trial, I won’t have to.” He kept his voice even, but her green eyes flared with fury. She looked ready to seize a sword and run him through for even suggesting that he take his brother’s place.

He rather liked seeing this side to her. She was filled with fire and passion, like a warrior.

“And if we don’t find him? You’ll give yourself up and let them hang you when you did nothing wrong?” She closed her eyes, as if seeking patience from a higher power. “You’ve lost your wits. I don’t know what’s happened to your brain, but clearly it has gone on holiday.”

Her fury was born of fear, and it warmed him to know that she was so upset about the idea of anything happening to him. He wasn’t planning to be hanged—not at all. He was confident in his ability to escape a prison like the Tolbooth.

“Trust me in this,” he told her. “I ken what I’m doing.”

“I highly doubt that.” She was chewing on her lower lip, and the nervous gesture made him want to kiss her. She was pretty enough when she wasn’t angry. But when she was furious, her face held a flush and her green eyes were fiery. A more beautiful woman he’d never seen.

She spun away from him, aghast at what she’d heard. “Are you trying to be a martyr? Do you think I’ll be glad to help your brother at the cost of your life?”

Martyr
was not a word in his vocabulary. “I’m going to save him,” he said again. He had little faith in the jury. It was likely that they were looking for someone to shoulder the blame. The death of an English earl could not be taken lightly, and there was enough questionable evidence to convict his brother.

“Do you really feel that your life has so little value?” she murmured. “Why would you give it up for nothing?”

Her hands moved around his neck, and his attention was entirely fixated upon her mouth. He wanted to taste her lips, to hear her sighs of satisfaction as he took her again and again.

“It’s no’ about my life. It’s about my brother’s life. And it’s worth a great deal.”

“And what about me?” she whispered. “Are my wishes worth nothing?”