“He is an honest man, Owen. I understand your suspicions, but he would not betray you.” Heather sighed. “All he wants is justice for William. That is why you are free, instead of swinging from the gallows. Please, do not forget that, for he was the one who persuaded me of your innocence in the first place.”
A confusion of emotions moved across Owen’s face, as if he had not considered that before: bemusement, resignation, doubt, regret, but ending with a sure glimmer of hope.
“Is it far?” She longed to distract him from his troubles. If Brandon had given them but an additional night before they had to ride away from Dunn Castle, maybe she would have found another way to distract him. As it was, her words would have to do.
Owen tilted his head from side to side. “Aye and nay. It’s only over the mountains, but the path is difficult.”
“And it’s goin’ to get worse,” Sawyer chimed in, nodding toward the rainclouds that Heather had spotted earlier. “I hope ye wore warm enough garments, Lady Heather. Ye’re goin’ to freeze the very hairs off the back of yer neck, either way.”
Heather turned her head, bringing her lips close to Owen’s ear. “Not if you keep me warm, my darling.”
“I will, love,” he whispered back, stealing a kiss.
She might have indulged a while longer, if Sawyer had not erupted into rapturous applause. “Och, Brandon better have what he says he has, so the two of ye can get on with marryin’ each other and makin’ wee bairns to cause chaos in the castle!”
Embarrassment rushed up Heather’s throat and into her face. “You should not talk about… making children. It is most improper,” she chided, fanning her cheeks furiously. “I know you delight in speaking of such things, but I would prefer it if you did not while I am present.”
“Apologies, M’Lady.” Sawyer flashed a mischievous grin. “I got carried away with the only grand thing to come out of this doom and gloom.”
Despite herself, a smile returned to Heather’s lips. “Does this mean you are no longer disapproving of me?”
“Och, right now, ye’re me favorite lass in the world!” Sawyer enthused, before bringing a finger to his lips. “Just daenae tell me Rosie, in case she gets jealous. Daenae mistake me, ye’re me favorite because ye’ve done the impossible, nae because I’ve got any fancy for ye.”
Heather blinked. “The impossible?”
“Ye thawed that big lad’s heart,” Sawyer cried, clapping his hands together. “We thought he’d never find a lass to make his Lady. Little did we ken he’d have to go to England to find her, but I’m nae against it. None of the Clan will be, now they ken what ye mean to their Laird.”
“The Clan knows?” Heather stared at Sawyer in abject horror. How could they possibly know? Had they… heard something of the previous night’s divine exploits?
Sawyer shrugged. “They will do by the time we return. I ken ye told me nae to say a word, M’Laird, but I assumed ye just wanted me to be the gossipmonger.”
“Ye’re too smart for yer own good, Sawyer,” Owen reprimanded playfully, dipping his head to taste another kiss from Heather’s lips. “I hope ye daenae mind?”
In his arms, with the delicious burn of his kiss still upon her mouth, how could she possibly mind?
“I do not,” she confirmed. “I am just glad they did not find out for… other reasons.” She raised a pointed eyebrow, bringing a throaty laugh to Owen’s throat.
“What did ye say?” Sawyer leaned forward in the saddle, clearly eager to remain in their confidence.
Owen waved a hand in his direction. “That’s nae for ye to ken, Lad. Ye just worry about how ye’re goin’ to get Rosie to marry ye, now that ye daenae have to concern yerself about me nuptials anymore.”
“Fine. Have yer secrets.” Sawyer folded his arms across his chest, pretending to pout.
In the ensuing silence, Heather rested back against Owen, praying that nothing would be able to tear them apart. He might not have realized it, but he had just had his proposal of marriage accepted. With any luck, he would ask her properly one day soon, so she could accept it with a kiss and more, in the privacy of her chamber.
“What do you think Brandon meant when he said, “However, if this information is correct, it will also reveal something far more troubling, which will require your aid.” Will we have to ride somewhere else?” She could not help but ask, for it was the only part that weighed heavily upon her mind.
Owen rested his chin on the top of her head. “We will nae ken until we get there,” he murmured. “In truth, we might never ken.”
“What do you mean?”
She felt him inhale deeply. “I daenae want to worry ye, Lass.”
“Tell me,” she urged, for the not knowing concerned her far more.
“Well… if Brandon kens who the killer is,” Owen said grimly, “he might never reach this inn we’re ridin’ to.”
He did not continue, but Heather heard the unspoken words in the thick quiet that followed:“And if Brandon disnae make it to that inn, there’ll be nay one and nothin’ to prove me innocent.”
