“Ho, Balfour!” Fletch called.
Tavish sucked in a stuttering breath and lifted his head as his friend approached.
“Are you unwell?” Fletch looked him over. It was the practiced eye of a commanding officer searching a soldier for a battle wound.
It hurt to meet his friend’s concerned gaze. To know the pain that he would cause this good man. How terrible to lose Isla and Fletch in one awful stroke of Fate. At least they would have one another.
The thought wasn’t as comforting as Tavish wished.
“I’m . . .”Lovesick? Unnerved?Fair out of my mind with regret?Tavish went with, “. . . well.”
Fletch’s gaze turned skeptical.
“Truly, I am,” Tavish continued.
“Ye look like hell,” Ross said.
“Go to the devil,” Tavish shot back, but his heart wasn’t in it.
“That’s a bit better.” Ross looked at Fletch. “But it lacks his usual bite.”
“Mmm.” Fletch stared at him.
Damn these two and their perceptive eyes. They would ferret out this secret.
“How is the lady?” Tavish asked.
“About as well as you,” Fletch said. “Cold and wet but glad to be alive.”
Tavish nodded.
“Grayburn behaved abominably.” Fletch glanced back at the duke. “Not even a word of kindness for your actions. Your families are not friendly, and still you ran to save the lady. That alone should be acknowledged.”
And what was Tavish to say to that? “Any of ye would have done the same. I just happened to be the first to notice the lady fall.”
“For the love—” Fletch bit off his words. “Just once, I would like to see youclaim something for yourself, Balfour. A mere smile of glory or a smug expression of ego. Something.”
Tavish managed a sharp laugh.
“I think he’s gone a wee bittyfou. Addled in the head.” Ross slapped his back. “How much pond water did ye drink?”
Tavish shoved him off.
“Well, you may not accept it,” Fletch said, “but I cannot express the depth of my gratitude, Balfour. You saved my lady and—”
Tavish cut him off with a slice of the hand. “No thanks are necessary, Fletch.”
His friend merely stared, expression bewildered. “Someday, I will find a way to repay the debts between us.”
“Fletch, someday I am sure to do something that will have me groveling for your forgiveness. When that happens, I thank ye for remembering this moment.”
“As you say.” Fletch rolled his eyes, assuming Tavish was in jest. “Come on, then. Let’s get you dry before pneumonia sets in.”
18
Seven Years Earlier
August 26, 1810
