We weren’t expecting you back so soon,” Patrick’s uncle John said, ushering him into Tarrick Hall. “Is all well?”
Nay, everything is not well, Patrick lamented silently. I’m losing the only lass I’ve ever loved.
“Verra well, Uncle,” he said out loud. “Fetch yer brothers please. I have news.”
Watching John take to the task, Patrick’s heart drummed in his chest. How should he tell Cameron? Would the shock be too much for him?
He waited until everyone had gathered into the great hall and asked for whisky to be served. There would be much celebration.
“What is it?” John asked him. “You look about to burst. Is it good news from home? Your mother?”
“She’s likely with child again,” Tamas guessed, reclining in a chair beside John’s.
“Have you found Miss Cunningham?” Annie asked.
“Why don’t we let the lad speak,” Cameron said, taking a seat after his wife. “Go on, lad.”
“Uncle Cameron,” Patrick’s voice shook when he turned to him. “Take yer wife’s hand. She will likely need it.”
“Is it about Shaw and Miss Cunningham?” Annie begged.
“Nae,” Patrick told her, bracing himself. “’Tis Kendrick. He lives.”
As he suspected, the ground fell away. Everyone came to his and her feet, save Cameron. He sat in his chair staring at Patrick, his hand rising with his wife as she stood. Patrick hadn’t moved his gaze off his uncle in the commotion.
“I hope you have proof,” Cameron told him, “or what you did here today is unforgivable.”
“I have seen him, spoken to him.”
“Where?” Now Cameron rose to his full height. “Take me to him.”
“Aye, take us!” his uncles and cousins demanded.
Patrick leaped from his chair to ward them off. “Nae. His father only, fer now.”
“Patrick.” Cameron was upon him in a single stride. “Where is he? How do you know ’tis him?”
Thankfully, Patrick had prepared himself for the whirlwind. But who could prepare for the emotion of finding out your child wasn’t dead?
Patrick did his best to remain calm and steady while he spoke. “He’s in Pinwherry.”
“They had him all this time!” Cameron’s son Tam accused.
“Nae!” Patrick held up his hand. “He’s been…Hell, I’ll let him tell ye his tale. I found him stumblin’ into Pinwherry in poor condition. His feet were bare and raw and caked with weeks of dirt. He is being nursed back to health in the house of Mary Wallace, by Charlie, Duff, Elsie, and Caitriona Cunningham.”
His uncle Cameron took him by the collar of his shirt. “You left him with them?”
“Aye,” Patrick told him evenly. “I did. Charlie lost him too.”
“And Duff? The one who—”
“Kendrick will tell you himself that Duff didna put a finger to him. ’Twas Hendry, and he has disappeared again. And Duff is a MacGregor. Will’s son,” Patrick supplied when his uncle opened his mouth to speak and nothing came out. “They are helpin’ yer son recover. Never leavin’ his side.”
“Let’s go and get him back,” Tamas said. “Enough wastin’ time.”
“He isna well enough to travel, or I would have brought him with me.”
“Ye’re no physician,” Tamas pointed out.
“Everything yer sister knows aboot medicine, she taught to me.”
When Tamas made no other reply, Patrick returned his attention to Cameron. “Allan Cunningham doesna know aboot Kendrick. If ye all show up on his land, he’s likely to start shootin’ his pistol. I know ye can overtake him, but ye have yer son back. This war needs to end before anyone else dies.”
Cameron let him go and looked at his wife. “Our Kendrick may be alive, Annie.”
“Go find out, my love. Hurry back to tell me.”
They were leaving now. Turning to go, Patrick paused and looked at the rest of his kin. “Trust me,” he told them. “And celebrate Kendrick’s return.”
His aunt smiled, as did Shaw and John. Tamas stared at him with narrowed eyes. “We’ll see.”
“Five years, Patrick,” His uncle exhaled heavily as he dismounted in front of the Wallace holding. “Five years I believed him gone from me. Can this be?”
“Aye, Uncle,” Patrick promised him. “It can.
“Remember,” Patrick reminded him as they approached the door. “Duff Cunningham is no’ a threat.”
Cam nodded and cast him an anxious glance. “Think you Kendrick will recognize me? Will I recognize him?”
Patrick smiled and ushered him inside. “Ye’ve had a hard life, Uncle,” he said tossing his arm around Cameron’s shoulder. He pointed to the doorway down the hall. “Go inside and see yer son.”
Cameron stepped forward slowly and then hurried forward. He stopped at the entrance, his eyes fixed on the man sitting up in the bed.
“Kendrick?”
His son looked away from Charlie’s smiling face and his eyes glistened with tears. “Father.”
Cameron ran to him and cupped Kendrick’s face in his large hands. He studied him, his eyes, eyes he knew. Tears fell down his face onto the bed, into his son’s shoulder when he pulled him into his arms.
Patrick wiped his eye and caught Charlie smiling at him. He winked at her, forgetting that an instant ago he was angry that she was here yet again.
She left her chair and went to him. “There’s something I would speak with you about.”
“Of course,” he said and led her out. They met Mary in the hall and Patrick forgot about the man in their bed and what he still meant to Charlie thanks to the children running around his legs. He wanted this. He looked at Charlie. And he wanted it with her.
They followed the brood into the kitchen, where they met Duff and Elsie.
“Cameron is here,” Patrick told his cousin then bent to the children. “Go play in the yard. I’ll join ye shortly.” He wanted to speak with Duff about fighting and he didn’t want them here to hear it.
“Do I have yer word that ye’ll no’ try to harm him?” he asked him when the children ran outside.
“Aye, ye have it,” his cousin told him, “but ’tis difficult knowing he killed my mother.”
“Kendrick thirsts.” Cameron’s voice drew every eye to where he stood in the doorway. When Charlie hurried to fetch Kendrick some water, Cameron held up his hand and smiled at her. “Thank you, Miss Cunningham, but let me see to him now that I am here. You have my deepest gratitude for all you’ve done already.”
She nodded and he waited while she filled a cup.
“Your mother was my friend,” he told her in a quiet, quavering voice. His gaze fell on Duff and on Elsie. “I know it won’t bring her back and I take full responsibility for it. The fault of it lies with me. But I would have you know that it was a terrible accident.” He took a deep breath then continued as if he’d been waiting for years to tell them. Patrick knew he had. “We had come here to exact vengeance from your father. Because of my past friendship with your mother, I decided to spare her sons, and her of course. But she hadn’t known. When we attacked, cutting a path to Allan Cunningham, your mother had leaped in front of us, cutting off our path to plead for her family’s lives.
“Even covered in blood, I wasn’t satisfied. I’d come to kill the man responsible for taking my son. Nothing was going to stop me.
“Ignoring your mother’s pleas, I…I shoved her away. She fell and landed on a guardsman already splayed out on the floor. His blade, exposed and tilted across his chest…” He stopped for a moment to try to gather himself. Patrick knew how difficult this was for his uncle. But it was time to heal.
“When I saw what I had done, I went to her and lifted her from the blade. I carried her to a cushioned chair and fell at her feet to plead her forgiveness. I don’t know if she would have given it. I left Cunningham House ashamed of my blood-lust.” He lifted his gaze from the ground and set it on Duff, then at Charlie. “We have done things we regret. I hope you can all someday forgive me.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Patrick hoped it was enough.
Duff moved forward and Patrick readied himself to break up a fight.
“We were commanded to take your boy to Dumfries and kill him. I like to think ’twas my age that made me so foolish.” Duff reached him and sat on the edge of the table. “I wanted to please the man who raised me, to finally be accepted as his son, so I agreed to do it. I took him from you and cast him into a life worse than death. If anyone pleads forgiveness, ’tis I.”
Patrick smiled watching him. Duff was a good man, a MacGregor, for certain. Will would be honored to call him son.
“You have it,” Cameron replied.
Charlie stepped forward and handed Cameron the cup of water she’d been clutching to her chest. “You’ll stay for supper then?”
Cameron accepted the cup and smiled.
“And later,” Patrick’s uncle added. “We can discuss the marriage ceremony.”
Elsie hurried forward, her blue eyes sparkling. Patrick was glad she looked healthier than when he’d first arrived. And now she was going to wed Shaw. She’d be a Fergusson. He was happy for her.
“I’ll be a good wife to your son, Mr. Fergusson,” she beamed.
Cameron looked a wee bit lost for an instant and then his grin widened. “Aye, ye and Shaw. We’ll make it a double ceremony.” He smiled at them all and then turned and continued down the hall.
What? Patrick’s smile faded. A double ceremony? No damn way in hell…“Uncle!” he called out, catching up to him. “What’s goin’ on?”
Cameron opened his mouth to speak and then rethought his words. Finally he said with a sigh, “I understand that Charlotte Cunningham may have caught your eye, but Kendrick loves her.”
“He told this to you?” Patrick’s heart drummed in his ears, the sound of war. “Ye were barely in there long enough to—”
“When I asked him how he lived, his reply was her.”
Patrick turned to look at her. She looked away, unable to meet his gaze. Nae! His heart battered against his ribs as if it sought to break free and fly to her. Nae, his jaw tightened. He wouldn’t lose Charlie to Kendrick.
“You must know,” his uncle continued, dragging his gaze back to him, “that if his love for her has remained true after all this time, he should have her.”
Nae. Patrick shook his head and ran both hands over his face. Nae. He didn’t know that. All he knew was that he was ready to put away his careless ways and be responsible for someone else. Her. He’d given his heart to her, his soul. For what? To have Kendrick return from the damn dead and reclaim her? Nae! He turned to her again with his heart in his eyes. “What d’ye want, Charlie?”
Her eyes were large and liquid in the soft candlelight. She couldn’t say. She didn’t have to. Patrick was certain his heart was about to stop for good and he’d drop to the floor dead at her feet.
Cameron placed his hand on Patrick’s shoulder. His eyes, pouring over his sister’s son, were filled with love and hope Patrick hadn’t seen in him.
“She was about to agree to Kendrick’s proposal when we entered.”
Patrick must have looked like he was about to be ill or about to start breaking jaws because his uncle moved in closer and cupped his face in both hands. “Lad, she cannot mean that much to you. You haven’t known her long, have you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I would see him happy, nephew. Make this small sacrifice for him, and I’ll be sure to write your father about it. Think on it please. Now, I must go. Kendrick’s waited long enough.”
Patrick watched him enter the room and wondered what kind of monster he’d become to hate Kendrick.
He needed to be away from here. He needed to plot his course of action with a clear head.
He strode past Charlie, not answering her when she called out and headed for the door. He didn’t want to speak to her or look at her. He couldn’t have been this big of a fool. He didn’t care what Cameron wrote to his father, but this was kin. He could only go so far. How far would that be? He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to fight. He left the house before he could consider it further and strode toward the fields. He wouldn’t go too far in case his uncle tried to have them wed by the village priest.
The thought of Charlie spending her life with anyone but him made him want to do more than just bust some bones. He tried to plan the best way to convince Cameron that he wasn’t giving her up, but he couldn’t think straight. His head felt as if it were about to burst, his heart felt the same.
Was it wrong of him to keep her from a man she’s loved her whole life? Was he still nothing but a selfish bastard? He wished he could speak with his father and mayhap gain some insight on what the hell was happening to him. He’d never felt this kind of pain before. What would his father have to say to him? Hadn’t the men of Camlochlin risked all for love? Had any one of them given up his woman? His father would tell him to fight for her. But how far?
And what was there to fight? Charlie wanted Kendrick. She couldn’t even look at him. Patrick had known she loved his cousin. His sling at her thigh attested. He should have left her to her ghost.
He sank to his knees at the twisting ache in his guts, his chest.