Conall met Duncan’s eyes over Lana’s head, and he saw anger and confusion there. Once through this pass, Conall knew they would no longer be brothers.
Would they then become enemies?
Duncan’s eyes narrowed unexpectedly and his face hardened as if Conall’s thoughts had been whispered on the wind. The smaller man nodded sharply once.
“Let’s have it over with, then,” Duncan said. “I’d know. Conall?”
Conall returned the gesture.
Lana led the way through the mountains without comment.
Echoing high above the valley, comprising the very sky it seemed, the gray’s voice called mournfully, impatiently, jealously.
Evelyn thought for a moment that she had killed Angus Buchanan. The old man slumped in the chair, seemingly lifeless as Evelyn sprang awkwardly from hers and Bonnie ran in panicked circles, bleating her distress.
“Sir!” she whispered, clutching at the old man and leaning over him. “Er…Angus?” She didn’t know how to address him. “Sir, answer me, please!”
He groaned and Evelyn’s heart began beating once more.
“Oh, thank God,” she whispered before speaking louder to the clan chief. “I’ll get help—Andrew is just outside.”
“Nae,” Angus whispered and reached up to stay Evelyn with bony fingers around her forearm. “Raise nae alarm, lass. I beg you. Only help me…aright…if you would.”
Evelyn was unconvinced that she should not call for the Buchanan’s kin, but she gently pulled the old man up properly all the same. For all his bulky appearance, he could weigh no more than Bonnie, Evelyn guessed with a sad pang.
Once sitting, Angus Buchanan looked pale and sweaty and still rested a hand over his chest. His breaths came fast and shallow, his lips the same color as his snowy beard.
“They’d have me abed again quicker than a frog’s blink,” he whispered, faded eyes flicking to the door. “They think keeping me an invalid would be a cure but, ah—we all know better than that.” He ended his words on a wheeze and his eyes came back to Eve, still crouched over her belly before him.
“Sit down, lass.” He waved to the chair. “It pains me to crane me neck so.”
Evelyn sat reluctantly, her eyes finding the swiftest route to the door just in case. She noticed the sheep’s continued fretting and called to the animal.
“Bonnie. Bonnie, to me.”
The sheep clattered over and rested her bony chin on Evelyn’s knee, startling Whiskers from her pocket. The mouse tumbled to the floor and raced to a seam between wall and flagstone. Robert was now happily nibbling on a woven mat near the fire pit, although Evelyn could not recall turning him loose.
“’Tis sorry I am for giving you a fright, Eve,” Angus said, his voice a bit stronger but still breathy. “My heart…’tis nae strong. Nearly spent, I’d wager. And the mention…that name.”
“Forgive me.” Evelyn leaned forward. “I know a little of the troubles between your clans. It must be a shock.”
Angus huffed a weak laugh. “It shouldn’t be, but it is, aye.” Angus rubbed at his left breast with the heel of his hand. “Conall MacKerrick,” he said thoughtfully, then looked to Evelyn. “Dáire’s son, is he nae?”
Evelyn nodded.
“But you are nae Scots. You came with Minerva from England, I presume.” The old man studied Evelyn. “Mayhap you should tell me the whole of it, lass.”
And so she did. Starting with the icy-cold nightmare of Minerva’s death, finding Alinor and Ronan’s hut, Conall’s arrival, the lie she’d told. The marriage, the arguments, her discovery about the curse and finally, her confession. Angus absorbed her tale in its entirety in silence, only nodding here or there, or raising his eyebrows. Evelyn cried through most of the telling, shame and regret coloring her words as she laid bare her broken heart and her fear to this old, old man, a stranger to her and yet her only hope.
“And so he renounced us both—the babe and me,” she finished, feeling limp and spent. “I had destroyed the one hope of his town’s redemption with my deceit.” Evelyn looked at the old man, trying to retain a shred of dignity. “I truly have no home now. Would that you afford me shelter until my child has come, for bringing your sister her dying wish. When I am able, we will leave your town. Mayhap as early as next spring.” She tilted her chin. “I am begging you, sir. Please. For my child.”
Angus frowned. “I’d nae have you beg anything from me, Eve. There’s nae need. Indeed, I do owe you a great deal for caring for Minerva—she wasna all alone at the end, and I know that was a fear of hers. I canna repay you for that, if you would stay at the Buchanan town for the whole of your life, and your bairn’s life, and his bairns.”
He leaned forward in his chair and held out a hand. Eve placed hers in it.
“Your coming was foretold, Eve. By Minerva herself, on the very day she left the Buchanan town with my only daughter for England many, many years ago.” The old man’s voice strained with the emotion of his words. “I doona know the why of your coming. How bringing the bairn of Dáire MacKerricks only son into my clan is to bring us peace, or of this curse he has told you of. But I must have faith. I have borne the MacKerrick’s a grudge since the day they took my happiness, but God forgive me, I will have faith.”
Angus squeezed Evelyn’s fingers. “You will stay. As long as your heart finds comfort here.”
