“Think, man. Ye know how much I love my sister.” Quinn sauntered forward, one slow step at a time. “Do ye truly think I would jest about her death? That I’d be calm and drinking to her health if she had left us both?”
“Ye’re covered in blood.” Gilbert stared at him, pale but unyielding. The man’s fears had pushed him beyond reason. “’Tis her blood, is it not?”
“It takes verra little blood to make a large stain.” Quinn moved closer. “Ye would know that if ye ever fought to defend yer clan.”
“I have defended my clan by ensuring agreements are right and fair.” Gilbert tamed his unusually short hair with a few jerking swipes of his hand. “Swords and spears are nay the only weapons that protect a people.” He tapped his temple, then shot Quinn a foul sneer. “Ye should ken that well enough after the mess ye made over the Ross cows. I sorted that for ye, did I not?”
Quinn kept his teeth clenched and didn’t rise to the bait. He had promised to maintain peace, so he ignored his brother-in-law’s barbs. Instead, he returned to the waist-high cabinet laden with decanters and fetched Gilbert’s untouched glass, clutching it so tightly it should have shattered. He almost laughed out loud when the sniveling coward backed up a step when he tried to hand it to him. “Here. Ye need it.”
His long, thin fingers trembling, Gilbert accepted the drink, then lowered himself into a chair. “Ye swear she lives?”
“Aye,” Quinn replied in an even tone, determined, for Fern’s sake, to be civil to this worthless shite she had married. “Ye may see her and yer bairns once they’re sorted proper and comfortable.” He shot Gilbert a hard look. “Birthing can be a grueling ordeal.”
“And I have a son?”
“And a daughter, as well.” Quinn shifted in place, already finished with nursemaiding this fool. “The wee lassie is yer first born by a brief span of time.”
“A son and a daughter,” Gilbert repeated, then turned and stared at the door. “A miracle. Truly. By the grace of Almighty God.”
“Aye, and with the help of my betrothed,” Quinn added. “If not for Lady Evaline, we would be preparing my sister and her bairns for the grave.”
Gilbert’s eyes twitched, wrinkling at the corners as his attention slid back to the bedchamber door. He seemed either nervous, plotting, or guilty of something. Quinn had always felt the man had a greasiness about him. Like a rat fresh from raiding the larder. He never would’ve believed it possible for his brother-in-law to appear even more dishonest, but today, he did. Gilbert was about to say something that would earn him a thrashing. But Quinn swore to keep his promise. At least for today.
“Forgive me for mistaking Lady Evaline for a servant,” Gilbert said with a thoughtless shrug that showed how little he meant it. “But her dress, ye understand—or the lack thereof.”
As much as Quinn hated to admit it, the useless churl made a fair point. “I would imagine running from oppressors is easier in trews than a dress.” He jutted his chin higher, daring Gilbert to respond wrongly.
“Oppressors?”
“Bloody Sassenachs banished her from her homeland. Chased her all the way to the Highlands.” Perhaps he embellished a bit on the chasing part. Evie had never mentioned that. But a wee bit of butter added to any story merely made it tastier.
“I see.” Gilbert emptied his glass, then rose and poured himself another. Before sliding the decanter back in its place, he found the decency to wave it toward Quinn. “Another?”
“Later.” The day had wearied him something fierce, and the pain pounding inside his skull was getting stronger. As much as he liked whisky, for once, he knew it wouldn’t make the situation any better if he over-indulged.
“And where is yer talented Lady Evaline from?” Gilbert meandered closer to the bedchamber door.
Quinn cut him off and blocked the entrance. Did the man think him that easily out maneuvered? He allowed himself a victorious smile as he folded his arms across his chest. “Lady Evaline is from London.” At least, he thought she had mentioned London. Memories from the past few days were still a bit muddled. Some came to him clear and quick. Others remained as murky as shifting shadows. With a haughty dip of his chin, he silently dared his brother-in-law to say the wrong thing. The man had a talent for it. “I’d say she’s quite the woman to make it this far into the Highlands on her own. Canny. Strong. Fearless—would ye not agree?”
“Known her naught but a few days, and yet ye’ve already offered this Englishwoman yer name?” Gilbert gave him an insulting, squinty-eyed leer. “Ever consider she could be a spy for Edward?”
“She saved my life.” Quinn forced an even tone. “Saved me from drowning. Treated my wounds. Watched over me when I couldna watch over m’self.” He popped his knuckles with a grinding twist of his fist into his palm. “I trust her a damn sight better than I ever trusted Annag. The union ye swore would be so beneficial to this clan.”
“Itwasbeneficial.” Gilbert downed the rest of his drink, then plunked the glass onto a nearby table. “Have ye not audited yer books lately, my chieftain? Annag’s dowry filled yer coffers quite nicely.” He shifted with another nonchalant shrug. “I promised ye financial gain—not a blissful union. At least she did ye the courtesy of dying and making room for another.”
“Dinna disrespect the dead.” Quinn staunched the urge to cross himself. Such talk exposed the keep to ill-wishes and curses from those beyond the grave.
Gilbert laughed as he plucked splinters from the scrape on his shoulder. “Dinna disrespect the dead,” he muttered. “Ye couldna stand the wench, nor could she stand the sight of ye. ’Twas a wonder she didna try to kill ye in yer sleep.” He jutted his chin upward. “Dinna go all holier than thou on me. I know ye too well.”
Quinn couldn’t continue this cold politeness any longer. As he started toward Gilbert, the bedchamber door opened and saved him from breaking his oath.
“You can both come in now but be quiet. Fern is still asleep and needs her rest.” Evie motioned them forward, opening the door wide.
Quinn stepped aside and gave Gilbert a nod. “After ye. I met the precious ones earlier.”
Once Gilbert crossed the threshold, Quinn reached into the room, snagged hold of Evie’s arm, and tugged her out into the sitting room beside him. “Ye must never trust that man,” he warned soft and low. “Fernie loves him. I canna fathom why, but she does.” He peered through the open door at his despised brother-in-law cradling a bairn in each arm. “Be wary of anything ye say to him. The bastard twists yer words into dangerous lies that benefit no one but himself.”
Evie eyed the man. The longer she studied him, the harder her gaze became. “I look forward to the challenge.” Then she turned back to Quinn and brushed stray tendrils out of her face. “Would you mind showing me to my room? Janet and Reah have promised to fetch me if Fern or the babies have any issues. I believe the wet nurse should be here soon, and they’ll report if the infants fail to latch on. I’ve got my bag all sorted. Soon as I grab it, we can go.” A weary smile curved the sweet lips he had barely tasted and looked forward to tasting again. She reached inside the door and scooped the strap of her bag up onto her shoulder. “I’d love a wash and a nap if that could be arranged. Is there someone particular I should ask for to arrange for some heated water?”
