“Aye, safe enough.” Breckin left her and walked quickly toward a copse of trees in the distance, not too far away. As he crouched down in wait for a rabbit or small creature, he grinned to himself. She could not stay angry with him. Likewise, he couldn’t stay angry with her. Somehow, Breckin needed to think of a way to make amends and call a truce betwixt them. He didn’t want her anger, he wanted the coy and sweet gazes she’d given him on their wedding night.
A rabbit emerged from a thicket to nibble on grasses near the base of a tree. He quickly positioned an arrow and let it loose. The arrow pierced the animal and it fell where it had stood. The rabbit was large enough to feed him and Eva, so he decided to forego hunting and hastened back to camp. As he neared, the sound of a horse alerted him that riders approached, and as they crested the rise and emerged from the woods, Breckin looked to see that his wife was still sleeping under the rocky outcropping before he recognized his one-time ally.
“William, ’tis ye there,” he greeted the leader of the Stewart clan.
“Breckin, my sentry reported riders and so I thought to ensure no marauders intended to attack us. Ye are usually surrounded by a sentry of Buchanan warriors. Do ye travel alone?” William removed his helmet and fanned back the strands of his brown hair.
Breckin shook his head and pointed at Eva who lay upon the cover. She seemed to be sleeping and had her eyes closed. He set down his kill and bow and walked to William.
“Who is she?” William asked when his dark eyes shifted to Eva.
“My wife.” Breckin wasn’t about to say more. “I will not linger on your land and will be gone early on the morrow. We are just passing through.”
William dismounted from his horse and stood nearby. “Naught to worry about, my friend. It has been some time since we last met. I wanted to tell ye how sorry I was about Marian’s death and should have attended her burial but clan matters kept me away. I still hurt from the loss, as I am sure ye do.”
The loss?The man presumed to be his comrade but on the day of his sister’s burial, he’d proved what a good friend he’d been. That he hadn’t shown for her entombment told him all he needed to know about William Stewart.
“My clan continues to mourn her.”
“As ye should.” William settled his hands on his waist and peered at him.
Breckin kept his expression from showing his temper at the man’s admission. His now-rival had been betrothed to his sister when she’d died. Reverently, he should have come to pay his respects to a woman he supposedly loved, but he hadn’t. Apparently, William hadn’t considered Marian important enough to forgo his duty to his clan. Now, Breckin had no wish to be neighborly and he certainly didn’t want to talk about his sister.
William motioned to his men to stay back. “Whilst I have ye here, I should tell ye that I married Danella MacLaren. Her brother approached me about an alliance. Danella coveted the union and so we took our vows last year.”
Breckin tried not to react to William’s news. He’d married Breckin’s former betrothed last year? The MacLarens had only just rescinded their pact when they made their offer to the Stewarts then. Rage shot through him like hot fire. Not that he begrudged the man any happiness, but Danella was supposed to have married him.
That her clan called off the marriage infuriated him because there had been no cause to do so. Even though, at the time, Breckin had considered the matter insignificant, it now made him wonder what caused the MacLarens to change their minds and why they’d offeredDanella to William Stewart instead. Their alliance gave him a slight concern but really, the Buchanans could handle any hostility from either clan.
“I do not want animosity betwixt our clans, Breckin, which is why I tell ye of this now. I should have come sooner and met with ye and told ye long ago. Och, Danella wanted to keep the news quiet for a while. Laird MacLaren’s son came to me with the offer and ye know that I needed to form an alliance. We are allied now but that does not mean that we are against ye.”
Bollocks, Breckin thought. The day the MacLarens called off his betrothal to their daughter was the day they became rivals. And if the Stewarts thought the Buchanans feared them, William had to be dimwitted. The Buchanan warriors could easily crush their forces, both the Stewarts and the MacLarens. He certainly didn’t need them as allies and wouldn’t even consider such an offer if one was put to him.
William stepped toward him. “Ye say nothing and that makes me wonder if ye are angry with me. I have always held ye in esteem, Breckin.”
“Felicitations, William,” Breckin said hastily, not wanting to give his thoughts on the matters he’d spoken of, “…on your marriage. I too recently married and am pleased with my bride. Alexander himself offered her hand to me. We are just returning from Edinburgh.”
William reached out and set his hand on his shoulder. “Gladdened, I am, Breckin, to hear your joyous news. I want no resentment amongst us. I offer my felicitations on your marriage as well. Stay as long as ye want on my land. There is no need to rush off on the morrow. And I am sorry for what happened to Marian.” He bowed his head and turned toward his men.
Within a moment, the horses disappeared over a hillock and the sound of their hooves faded. He was gladdened to see the man’s back. In time, he would deal with the MacLarens’ traitorous deed and theStewart’s disrespect for his sister’s death.
When he’d calmed enough from his go-between with William, Breckin retrieved the rabbit and withdrew his dagger from the sheath on his belt. He knelt next to the fire and situated some rocks to form a base. Nearby, he found a large enough stick to use for cooking the animal. After he banked the flames, the fire increased enough to warm him. He quickly skinned the rabbit, used the stick to skewer it, and set it over the rocks to cook.
Breckin cleaned his dagger with a cloth gotten from inside his tunic and used a little water from the flask to ensure no animal blood remained on the blade.
“Who was that?”
He glanced at Eva and found her watching him. Breckin moved to sit next to her, and used the cloth to dry the dagger. “A neighbor.”
The meat sizzled over the flames and wafted its scent to them.
“Who is Marian?”
She’d heard their discussion. Breckin sighed heavily. He was reluctant to explain what happened to his sister and besmirch Marian’s good name. “A betrothed.”
“What happened to her?”
“She died.” Without further explanation, he disregarded their conversation.
