“I...” Words utterly failed her right now. Nothing could convey the depth of her betrayal or her sorrow. Nothing she could ever say that would convince him that her intentions were to save her father. She was certain of that. She saw very clearly how this would all seem to him, and the fear of hurting him even more than she already had made her practically mute. “I can explain,” she forced herself to say. “In fact, I came here to explain.” Her small voice sounded almost disembodied to her, as if it had come from somewhere above her.

Arran’s expression melted into stone, and behind him, she heard Griselda mutter something in Gaelic. “Did you come to spy on me?” he suddenly roared to the ceiling, his face ravaged with raw torment, terrifying her. “All the promises you made to me, all the excuses you gave me? Were they lies so that you might spy on me?”

“Yes,” she said, breathless. She gripped her hands together and held them at her waist, needing something to hold on to. She closed her eyes, swaying a moment before forging ahead with the unvarnished truth. “That is, at first. They were lies, all of them lies in the beginning.”

Arran said something in his native tongue that sounded as if it would burn her if he said it in English. And Jock, loyal Jock, put his hand on Arran’s shoulder.

Margot tried again. “Arran, please listen to—”

“Get out,” Arran spat. “Now! Go at once, Margot. I donna care where you go, I donna care what you do, but get out of my sight. I never want to lay eyes on you again.”

His words, spoken so acidly, scorched her. She had known this would happen.

“Jock—remove her from my sight,” Arran spat.

Miraculously, Jock did not move instantly to do what Arran bid him.

Arran swung around to stare at him with fury.

Jock spoke quickly but softly in Gaelic. Whatever he said made Griselda snort with derision, and Arran tried to move away from him, but Jock clasped his shoulder and forced him to hold still and listen to him. He spoke earnestly, and as he did, Arran’s gaze drifted to Margot, then quickly away again, as if he could not bear the sight of her.

And then the three Mackenzies looked at her at once, their gazes blistering. Arran folded his arms and said stiffly, “My cousin believes we must first hear what it is you know before I turn you out.”

“Oh God,” Margot whispered. Her mind was whirling, her thoughts going back to the meeting in her father’s study. She shifted slightly to her left and grabbed the back of a chair to steady herself. Her legs felt like river reeds beneath her, swaying unsteadily in the current of her fear.

“Speak, woman,” Arran harshly commanded her.