He wanted to ask her why but his tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth.
The maid paused from where she was gathering up Molly’s nightclothes for washing. “Would ye look at that?” she said, peering out the window. “Looks like a glorious morning. Just the kind of morning for a stroll, dinna ye think?”
Molly glanced at the lass. “What? Er, yes. I suppose so.”
“Especially with someone special, aye?” There was a twinkle in the maid’s eyes as if she knew something that Conall didn’t.
Molly flushed. “Shall we go?”
Before he could reply, she’d all but bundled him out the door and pulled it shut behind her. She was muttering under her breath.
“What was that all about?”
“Nothing. Meg just thinks she’s something of a match-maker, that’s all.”
“A what?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Right. We’d better be going.”
Aye, they had. His mission couldn’t wait. Today, hopefully, he could begin finding some answers, starting with paying a visit to that warehouse James had told him about but that his father had conveniently forgotten to mention. What was that cargo he and Molly had seen being moved last night? And why had it been transported in the dead of night? With no lamps on the barge and in total silence? It was clear his father didn’t want it being seen.
They went down the passage and were just crossing the entrance hall towards the door when a voice called them from behind. Conall turned to see his father approaching. His stomach dropped.
“Good morning, Father.”
Earl Sinclair nodded a perfunctory greeting and then his eyes swept to Molly. “It’s been pointed out to me that I’ve been remiss in my manners. Would ye care to join me for breakfast?”
Conall groaned inwardly. This was the last thing he wanted. Molly glanced at Conall, and he could see the hesitation in her eyes. She didn’t want to offend his father, but she also didn’t want to spend more time in his company than necessary. Conall knew that feeling all too well.
“Come,” his father said, putting his arm around Molly’s shoulder as though she’d agreed to his request. “I wish to hear what ye think of the Pinnacle.”
Molly was given no choice but to go along with him and Conall with no choice but to follow. He ground his teeth. It was just another demonstration of how his father held power over him.
He followed Molly and his father into the great hall and sat at the head table. His father had ordered a lavish breakfast to be prepared—eggs, bacon and sausages, porridge with cream and honey, freshly baked bread with butter, jams and preserves. As Molly ate, Conall’s father was all charm and friendliness, asking questions about her upbringing and making her laugh with his stories from his own youth.
Conall watched them both as he ate sparingly, half glad that Molly felt comfortable enough around his father to let down her guard while also wary of what his father was up to. He wondered if this is what it would have been like if they’d had a normal family life—sitting around the table talking together over a hearty meal. But he’d not had a normal upbringing and he knew this was merely a charade.
He looked around the great hall and saw people watching him. He recognized some of them from his childhood, but he didn’t know their names. He wondered what it would have been like to stay here and become the Earl one day. Would he have known these people better? Would they have respected him as a leader?
His gaze shifted back to Molly who was now engrossed in conversation with his father about the scenery around the castle. She seemed genuinely interested in what she was hearing, asking questions and listening intently to the answers.
Conall’s chest tightened with irritation. “Has my stepmother still not returned?” he asked suddenly.
His father cut off in mid-sentence. “Nay,” he said, turning to Conall. Affairs have delayed her.”
“Oh?” Conall replied. “Then it must be important business she’s conducting.”
Earl Sinclair cleared his throat. “Aye.”
“Is it something to do with the important guest yer advisor said was arriving soon?”
His father’s eyes hardened briefly. “No it’s naught to do with that and my guests are none of yer business.”
Conall didn’t believe him for an instant. He knew his father was keeping something from him, but he didn’t press the issue. Not yet, anyway.
“Well I hope she returns before I leave,” he said, fixing his father with a stare. “It would be nice to see her.”
“I’m sure she would like that.”
