Chapter 29

C atriona Wescott gazed down at the letter in her hand through a shimmering haze of tears. A footman had delivered it only moments ago, interrupting the nap she and her husband were about to take with their two wee poppets. The children were still curled up in the blankets of their bed, fast asleep and blissfully unaware of their mother's agitation.

"What is it, darling?" Simon asked. He was standing beside the bed, his green eyes darkened with concern.

She glanced up at him, eager to show him that her face was alight with joy, not sorrow. "It's from my brother. It's from Connor. He's alive!"

Simon leaned over the bed, giving her shoulder a tender squeeze as she tore open the letter with shaking hands. Connor had disappeared from her life more than fourteen years ago and from his own life more than five years ago. She'd been searching for him ever since returning to the Highlands to claim Castle Kincaid, but to no avail. The clansmen who had ridden by his side for more than a decade and who now served her had all warned her that if Connor Kincaid didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be.

She tore open the letter with shaking hands, fresh tears springing to her eyes when she saw the familiar scrawl inside.

My wee kitten,

Since I have no way of knowing if you ever received the letters I sent all those years ago when you were just a girl, I realize this missive may come as something of a shock.

They are going to hang me for my crimes and when I'm gone, there will be some who will tell you I was a bad man. But I'm here to tell you that the love of a good woman made something better of me, if only for a short while.

It might also be a shock to learn that I have seen the woman you have become and that it made my heart sing with pride. Tell that handsome Englishman of yours that if he doesn't treat you well, I will return from beyond the grave to haunt him. As for those two bonny wee bairns of yours, never let them forget that they are not only Wescotts, but Kincaids.

After I am gone you may hear things about our mother as well, but all you need to remember is that you have every reason to be proud of her. She was a true lady in every sense of the word, just as you are. Godspeed, my dear kitten. I will ever be…

Your devoted brother, Connor

Catriona lifted her stricken eyes to her husband's face. "Oh, Simon, we have to do something! He's writing to say good-bye. They're going to hang him!"

As they clapped the irons on his wrists and led him from the jail, Connor squinted up at the stark silhouette of the gallows. They were as familiar to him as a dear friend or an old lover. Even during those brief stolen moments of joy he had found in Pamela's arms, somehow he'd always known they'd be waiting for him at the end of his journey.

This was one dance to which he knew all the steps.

He marched between two redcoats, a balmy breeze ruffling his hair. It was a glorious Highland afternoon, with fluffy white clouds drifting across the crisp blue canopy of the sky. A lark was trilling somewhere in the distance and the rich smell of Caledonian pine scented every breath.

Connor drew a breath deep into his lungs, knowing it would be one of his last. He scowled, haunted by a faint whiff of lilac that seemed to be dancing on the wind. His final regret in a lifetime of many was that he would never again inhale that intoxicating scent from Pamela's hair, never know another taste of her sweet lips.

He'd never even told her how much he loved her. He'd told her bedchamber door, but somehow he didn't think that counted for much when all was said and done.

He and his stony-faced escorts reached the foot of the gallows far too soon. Connor's gaze traveled up the broad wooden steps to find the masked hangman waiting for him at the top of the platform, his patience enduring but not inexhaustible. Connor closed his eyes briefly, hearing once again the creaking of the rope as his father's body swayed against the night sky. He was forced to open them when one of the soldiers gave him a harsh shove.

As Connor began to climb the steps, the hangman folded his arms over his chest, his sleeveless vest showing off his bulging muscles to their most intimidating advantage.

Connor had nearly reached the top of the platform when he heard a burst of merry chatter and a ripple of feminine laughter. He turned to find scores of well-dressed gawkers pouring onto the lawn that surrounded the gallows, parasols and picnic baskets in hand. All of the women wore bonnets and the men wore hats to shade their fair skin from the afternoon sun, leaving their faces in shadow.

Connor snorted. He should have known the English would come to watch him hang. As far as they were concerned, there was no finer entertainment than watching a Scotsman's neck snap at the end of a rope. Not even fox hunting or horse racing could compare.

He shook his head in wry disbelief as they spread out their lap rugs and settled down to unpack their afternoon tea. If he wasn't fortunate enough to break his neck in the initial fall, they could savor the added delight of watching him gasp and twitch and kick his last while they sipped their wine or nibbled a freshly baked biscuit.

He glanced at the man calmly watching the proceedings from the balcony of the jail, knowing that Colonel Munroe would be delighted to have an audience for their little farce. Perhaps he could even use it to wrangle a promotion from his superiors.

The soldiers guided him to the trap door while the hangman took up his position at the lever, his eyes glittering through the eyeholes of the dark sack covering his head.

When they offered Connor a similar mask, he shook his head. After watching his parents die, he wasn't about to hide from his own death. He would leave this life as he'd lived it—with eyes wide open and fixed on the freedom promised by the sky.

One of the soldiers was draping the noose over his neck when a disturbance broke out below.

Connor squinted against the sun to find a slender woman shoving her way through the crowd of gawkers. She wore a long black hooded cloak as if she was already in mourning.

She ran up to the soldiers stationed at the foot of the platform and caught one of them by the front of his scarlet coat, her voice rising on a note of hysteria. "You have to let me see him! He's my brother and I haven't seen him in nearly fifteen years." Her voice caught on a heartrending sob. "Oh, please, you have to let me say good-bye!"

Connor felt as if his own heart was being rent in two. He'd had no way of knowing if his letter would reach Catriona before he was gone. As he witnessed her anguish, he was almost sorry it had.

When the young soldier firmly detached her hands from the front of his coat, shooting the other soldier a disgusted look, she dropped to her knees and threw her arms around his thighs. "Please, sir, I beg you! If you've an ounce of Christian mercy in your soul, you'll at least let me give him a kiss of farewell."

"Let the poor chit say good-bye!" someone called out from the crowd.

"One kiss won't hurt," a man shouted. "After all, 'twill be his last."

A chorus of catcalls quickly rose from their audience as the woman's piteous pleas shifted the mood in Connor's favor.

"Colonel?" The young soldier looked to his commanding officer, his face flushed with uncertainty.

Both Connor and Munroe knew exactly what harm it might do to the colonel's reputation should word get out that he had denied a condemned man's sister her last chance to say good-bye. "Oh, very well," Munroe snapped. "But tell her to make it quick. Kincaid has wasted enough of my time already."

The crowd fell into a respectful silence as Catriona slowly climbed the steps with her head bowed and the hood still shielding her face. Connor hadn't wanted his sister's last memory of him to be with his wrists in irons and his neck in a noose, but there wasn't much he could do about that now.

He stiffened as she slipped her slender arms around his waist, filling his nostrils with the impossible fragrance of lilac water. She tipped her head back, revealing an impish smile and a pair of sparkling amber eyes.

"Hello, brother dear," she said in a husky murmur. "Miss me?"