“No,” Innes replied, glancing at Jack. “But I’d also like to speak to your husband alone.”
Adaira was quiet for a beat, but she reached for her robe, slipping it over her chemise. “Very well.”
Jack watched her leave the room, his heart tumbling through his chest. He felt Innes’s silent stare and met it with one of his own.
“How can I help you, Laird?” he asked.
“We need to talk about your father,” Innes replied.
The words made Jack’s breath seize. “Adaira told you?”
“No. I knew your connection to Niall when I rode to your mother’s cottage weeks ago. When I saw how close Mirin lived to the clan line. When I saw your little sister with her auburn hair.” She paused, glancing away from Jack. “I shouldn’t have been surprised after I learned the truth of what happened to Cora. How Niall gave her away. I shouldn’t have been surprised when I realized he’d come to love a Tamerlaine woman, and had children with her.”
Jack kept his expression guarded. He didn’t know where Innes was going with this conversation. He didn’t know if he needed to remain detached or if it would be best to show a flicker of emotion. Despite the uncertainty that laced his blood, he sensed that Niall’s life was hanging in the balance. A constellation that could burn bright or be fully extinguished.
“So you knew that Niall was a relation of Adaira’s by marriage,” Jack began in a careful tone. “And yet you continued to allow him to fight in the culling, time and time again? To what end? Until someone finally slayed him?”
“I don’t expect you to understand my decisions or my reasons,” Innes said. “And that’s not why I’ve come to speak with you. This, however, is what I need: Moray is a prisoner of the east, and yet he is here, beneath my watch. He has asked to fight in the culling, and I want to give him that opportunity.”
“You want to give him a chance to be absolved?” Jack snarled, unable to swallow his anger. “To walk free after serving only a month in the dungeons?”
“No,” Innes replied. “I want him to die with honor. If I return him to the Tamerlaines, they will execute him. His bones will rot from the shame of what he’s done.”
Jack was so surprised that he merely stared at her. But his mind was racing.
“I need him to face an opponent who is stronger than him,” Innes continued. “Niall is undefeated.”
“And what if he kills my father?” Jack queried. “Does Moray walk free?”
“No. He’ll remain in the dungeons and fight again until someone can defeat him.”
Jack considered this for a moment. “All right. What do you need from me?”
“I need you to be a representative of the Tamerlaine clan,” Innes said. “To watch the culling at my side. To stand witness to Moray’s death, so your laird knows he was fairly dealt with here in the west for his misdeeds. Are you able to do that?”
She was asking him to watch his father fight—and maybe die, if Moray’s luck ran true. Overcome with all the emotions that gripped him whenever he thought of Niall, Jack wanted to wince, to fold in on himself. But he held Innes’s steady gaze, realizing that this was the moment he had been waiting for. It had simply come in a way he least expected.
“I’ll do this for you, Laird,” he said. “But I have conditions.”
“Speak your terms.”
“The first? I would like to have dinner with my father a few hours before the culling. A good, hearty meal in one of the castle’s private chambers.”
“Very well. I can see to it that this is done,” Innes said. “What else?”
Jack hesitated, but when he spoke, his voice was clear. Unwavering. “If my father defeats your son, Niall goes free. You give him back his name and his title and his land and his honor. He is a prisoner no longer.”
Innes was silent. But then she held out her hand. “I agree to your terms, Jack.”
He accepted her hand, her grip firm enough to crush his fingers. They sealed the spoken agreement.
Jack wanted to bask in hope and confidence, but he could still feel the sharp edge of Moray’s dirk at his throat. He could still feel the bitter coldness of the dungeons seeping into his bones. He could still hear the way Niall had spoken his name in the arena, like a piece of him had broken.
Jack began to prepare himself for the worst.
Adaira found David in the laird’s quarters. He was waiting for her at his desk, where a piece of parchment, a freshly cut quill, and an inkwell were laid out. A line of candles burned and cast rings of light, their wax guttering down to pool on the wood.