“I am,” Lachlan murmured.
Neil exhaled and tried his best not to throw his head back. What he wanted more than anything in this world was to rise to his feet and leave. But that would send the wrong message.
The last thing he wanted, now that he had returned and was more determined than ever to take his place again, was to send the wrong message.
6
The Great Hall had just settled. Kristen had just caught her breath. Her heart ached for Finn’s disappointment, but at least he was excited for the game now.
They were falling back into their morning habits until a young groom hurried through the doors, his face red, a cap crushed in his fist. He skidded to a halt halfway down the aisle and bowed in the wrong direction, then tried again, his eyes darting from table to table as if the hall itself might answer him.
“Me Lady,” he blurted, finding Kristen instead of the man at the high seat. “The stable roof—there beam broke, and the mare is in a fright, and?—”
Kristen’s hands rose, calm and small. “Nay, lad. The Laird is here now. Ye can take yer complaints to him.”
The groom froze mid-breath. His gaze snapped to Neil, his terror plain as daylight. Around them, spoons paused again. A few heads turned, waiting to see whether the Laird would scream or bite his head off.
Neil clenched his jaw. He could picture a dozen kinds of beam and none at all. The groom’s chest rose and fell like a ship above troubled waters, while eyes all around the hall waited.
“Speak, then,” he ordered, harsher than he had intended.
The groom flinched. Kristen had already turned slightly, as if to stand between him and the table.
Neil chafed at the ease of it, the shield she wore without thinking.
He laid his palms flat on the table and steadied his voice. “I am still adjusting. The lady will handle the matter for now.”
Kristen did not look at him to check whether he meant it. She stepped forward at once, her voice even. “Which stall?”
“The east side,” the groom answered. “Second from the end. Brown mare with the white blaze.”
“All right,” Kristen said. “Prop the east tie with the spare bamboo stick from the tool shed. Do not hammer a nail near her. Send Giles to fetch Ewan the wright from the lower yard, and find me braither as well so he can help ye.”
“Aye, me Lady.”
“Slowly lead the mare to the small path by the courtyard,” she continued. “Keep some oats in yer hand as well, in case ye need to calm her down. This is very important, Troy. Daenae shout. If she startles, let her settle, then try again.”
The groom nodded quickly, relief loosening his shoulders. “Aye. Aye.” He remembered himself and bowed, almost straight this time. “Thank ye.”
He turned on his heel and ran out of the hall.
Kristen looked back at Davina. “Will ye mind the bairns for a moment?”
She did not wait for an answer; Davina’s hand was already on Finn’s shoulder.
She crossed herself out of habit, then lifted her skirts just enough to walk quickly, narrowly dodging a maid with a wide tray in hand.
Neil watched her go, the hall bending with her without protest. Irritation climbed his back like a snake with a harsh shell.
How could she be so effortless? Had he truly been gone that long?
Later in the afternoon, as the light poured through the windows in his study, Neil sat behind his desk with his back straight. He laid his hands flat on the surface, breathing slowly.
Lachlan stood across from the desk, a page in hand. Neil had requested his presence an hour after breakfast so he could get on top of things. And to get on top of things, he needed to know everything that had happened in his absence.
“Five years in a breath,” Lachlan began, his tone a bit too cheery given the circumstances. “Do ye want the tidy version or the real one?”
“The tidy one will do,” Neil said.
