Duncan merely arched a slender brow. “He has claimed thembothas his kin, and they are under his protection. As am I. You’ll have to win the Buchanan, as well. Prove your worth.”
Conall sat up straight. “Done. When do we leave?”
“Ah-ah. Nae so fast,” Duncan tsked. “You’re banned from the Buchanan town. There are orders to beat your guts to pulp if you’re found inside its borders.”
Conall sighed and threw up his hands. “Then how?”
“You go proper, and with respect,” Duncan insisted. “As should have been done years ago. First through the Buchanan. Beg audience with him. Tell him of your love for Eve. Your intentions.”
“Of course,” Conall rushed to agree.
“But.” Duncan raised a finger. “Eve has sworn to never return with you as the MacKerrick’s wife. She is no pawn, no trophy, and would never again allow you to treat her or the babe thusly.”
Conall frowned, then realized that Duncan still did not understand.
“I could never do that, Dunc,” he said quietly. “Even if I had want to.”
“Why is that, now?”
“Duncan,” Conall swallowed.“You are the MacKerrick.”
Duncan pressed his lips into a tight line and his chin flinched, but only once.
“I was…I was hoping you’d say that.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Evelyn was going outdoors for the first time in eight weeks. She dressed slowly, carefully, then crossed her small, private sleeping area partitioned by woven screens—to peer down into the low cradle.
Gregory was awake, but lying happily quiet, his muddy blue eyes searching the ceiling, his slender, ruddy arms swinging wildly and then clasping on each other. His little pink mouth opened and closed with innocent sweetness, practicing faint sighs and coos. He was so small yet, fragile looking even after two months. But he had come leagues from his first, tremulous breaths. Each day his miniature fist showed more strength in its grasp as he clutched at Evelyn’s finger. Each feeding seemed to reveal a growing appetite, a brave hunger to survive and even thrive, and Evelyn wanted to weep in gratitude from simply looking at him.
“Gregory,” she called in a quiet singsong. He didn’t start, but his wise little face turned toward the sound of Evelyn’s voice. For an instant, his expression whispered a secret of his sire, and it caused a stinging in her heart.
“Hallow, lovely,” she cooed, ignoring the pain of Conall’s remembrance. “Do you fancy a bit of sunshine this day? Mayhap we’ll catch a glimpse of Sebastian in the trees.”
His arms waved aimlessly and the slender bumps of tiny knees pushed beneath his gown. Evelyn scooped him up carefully, drawing a soft square of Buchanan plaid about his shoulders, and held him up on her chest, pressing her cheek against his velvety skin.
A familiar shuffling of footsteps prompted her to turn just as Angus Buchanan scratched politely at the screen.
“Is my wee lad ready for his grand adventure?”
“Good morn, Angus.” Evelyn smiled and looked down at Gregory. “I think he is. I know his mama is more than ready.” Her eyes found the kind old man again. “Have you come to escort us?”
“Aye, if you’ve a wish for company. But I’ve also come to give you the warning I promised you I would—MacKerrick has returned.Again,” he said pointedly.
Evelyn felt her lips thin. “Is he about now?” She didn’t understand the Buchanan allowing Conall MacKerrick access to the town. For six weeks, Conall had made his presence known on a nearly daily basis, begging audience with Eve.
She had denied him every time. She could not see him—her hurt was still too great. And she would not give him the undeserved gift of even a glimpse of Gregory, although her conscience pained her from it.
Angus shook his head and sighed. “He’s made such a nuisance of himself, Andrew’s finally taken to putting him to work on the keep on the loch.”
“Angus!” Evelyn gasped, feeling betrayed. “’Tis bad enough that you torment me with granting the man leave to come and go as he pleases—must you gainfully employ him, as well? He’ll never leave!”
The old man shrugged sheepishly. “Winter approaches on swift feet, Eve. We need every pair of hands.” He stepped to her side and plucked gently at Gregory’s gown with two frail fingers and cooed at him. “If you’d but speak to him, tell him yourself that there is nae hope of reconciliation, that you have nae wish to ever see him again, mayhap he would give you the peace youclaimyou desire.”
The veiled rebuke stung. “He needs return to his beloved town. I have no wish to hear his lying voice. And I trust him not with Gregory.”
Angus rolled his rheumy eyes. “Think you any member of this clan would allow Conall MacKerrick to abscond with one of their own? Fie on thee, lass. MacKerrick has asked of the bairn’s welfare, aye, but his every request is of you—to see you, speak with you.”
