“There’s no reason for you to stay,” Grizel remarked, wasting no time in making her point. “If you came to ask us to return, the answer is no. I’ll not go back to Glen Arrin, so long as breath remains in my body. And certainly not if he is there.“ She nodded to Bram.
There was no reaction at all on Bram’s face, only calm acceptance. Nairna’s temper flared up, and she couldn’t stop herself from demanding, “Why would you say such a thing to the son you’ve not seen in seven years?” Was the woman that heartless?
Grizel drew up her posture, her eyes hardened. “Would you want anything to do with the one who caused your husband’s death?” Without waiting for a reply, she swept past them, striding into the castle.
The clench in Bram’s jaw revealed that Grizel had struck a raw spot. Nairna saw the fury that lingered there, but he held it back.
“Bram, I—“
“It’s true, if that’s what you’re wanting to know.” He headed for the stables, as if he could release his anger with the rapid pace. Nairna struggled to keep up and nearly stumbled when Bram stopped suddenly. “My father died when he took a sword that was meant for me. Grizel blames me for it.”
“She’s wrong.” Nairna raised her eyes to her husband’s, and in them, she saw the shadow of the boy he’d been. A boy who had been close to his father and no doubt had lived with the burden of Tavin’s death. She couldn’t stop herself from moving into his arms, trying to bring him comfort without words.
But this time, Bram’s hand only touched her back, as if he were too angry to hold her. Whether it was his frustration toward Grizel or whether he simply didn’t want to embrace her, it was the first time she’d experienced hesitation from him. It bothered her more than she’d thought it would. Awkwardly, she removed her arms from his waist.
“Do you want to leave?” Bram asked.
She couldn’t—not until she’d spoken with the others. “I haven’t finished what I came here to do.” She held back a moment, thinking to herself. “And I want to have words with your mother.”
“Don’t be bothered by what she said. It’s simply her way.” Bram continued inside the stables, where Dougal had led the animals. The boy spoke quietly to his stallion, absorbed by the horse.
“I’ll see to your horses,” Dougal offered, nodding to both of them.
Bram handed over the reins and went to stand by one of the stalls. His gaze settled off into the distance, and as the minutes passed, Nairna felt him slipping further away.
“What happened at Cairnross?” she murmured, coming to stand beside him. There was more that he hadn’t told her, something that bothered him still. His fists tightened as if squeezing an invisible enemy.
“As I told you, Callum wasn’t there.” His clipped response clearly said he didn’t want to talk about it.
She hadn’t meant to bother him, but something else must have happened. The frustration on his face went deeper and she sensed him pushing her further away.
“Bram—?” She reached out to touch his shoulder, but he moved back.
“I’m in no mood to discuss it, Nairna.”
Beneath his irritated demeanour she sensed that something had unnerved him. Had he fallen into another spell, losing himself in the battle? Or had someone been hurt?
He wasn’t going to talk about it; that was clear. No amount of gentle questioning would break through the wall of guarded pride.
It hurt to see him like this, knowing there was nothing she could do. But she wanted to make the offer, nonetheless. “If there’s anything I can help you with, I’ll do my best.”
He turned to stare at her and the emptiness in his brown eyes made her take a step back. “I’m not something you can fix, Nairna. Leave it be.”
Brittle hurt bloomed inside and she didn’t know what to do. One moment, her husband was holding her as though he’d never let her go. The next, he’d cut her off, refusing to talk to her.
Confusion gathered around her like a cold gust of air. Risking another glance, she saw her husband watching her. Though Bram didn’t speak, nor reveal any of his thoughts, he hadn’t taken his eyes off her.
Her troubled thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a middle-aged man, short of stature, wearing a dark-green silk tunic, hose and a matching mantle. A heavy gold chain rested around his neck, denoting his rank.
“I heard that we had visitors,” the man said, his smile broad. “I am Kameron MacKinnon, Baron Locharr.” Though his fair hair was thinning and his midsection had grown plump, the man emanated warmth and friendliness. Nairna curtsied, introducing herself and Bram, who came closer.
Standing just behind Lord Locharr was an older woman and an adolescent girl. Bram leaned in close, his warm breath against her ear as he whispered, “That’s Ross’s wife Vanora and their eldest daughter Nessa.”
The sensation of her husband’s breath sent a shiver through her skin. When Bram stepped back, she couldn’t suppress the feeling of disappointment.
“Forgive Lady Grizel for what she said earlier,” Lord Locharr said quietly. “She’s been through some difficult times and her grief has hardened her.”
It was the man’s attempt to smooth over the uncomfortable atmosphere, and Nairna managed a nod. “I hope it was all right that we came to pay a visit. The MacKinloch men are missing their wives and children, and I came on their behalf.”
