“Me Laird!” a booming voice called out, and Jeane gasped as a large man walked toward them. She sprang apart from her captor as if she were doing something untoward.
The man was as broad as Fergus although a couple of inches shorter, and despite his intimidating size, his smile was boyish. His eyes, warm and brown, scanned the area. He did not look like a bad sort, but Jeane had been taught that all men were dangerous, even the boyish ones.
Jeane hid behind the horse all the same, her heart pounding in her chest. She could not trust any man, and she did not want him to recognize her face. As soon as someone found out who she was, she would be taken straight back to McKay Castle and back to her father. Back to her doom. She could not marry the man her father chose, no matter what.
Fergus did not seem to notice Jeane hiding at first.
“Aiden,” he greeted, “how’s yer brother?”
Jeane peeked around the horse to see the other man hang his head.
“Unwell, I’m afraid.” He got closer and his eyes widened. “Me Laird, yer hurt!”
“It’s only a scratch,” Fergus insisted. “But we do need to meet with the council. It was one of the Leary clan.”
Aiden cursed under his breath. “The Learys, again? I thought we had eradicated them the last time they attacked.”
“I suppose nae,” Fergus said, sighing. “Did ye find a healer for Ian?”
Aiden shook his head. “I couldnae find a decent one.”
“Well, ye’re in for a treat,” Fergus said easily and turned, frowning slightly when he did not see Jeane standing there. He looked down, likely seeing her legs.
He grabbed Jeane’s arm, pulling her close to his side, not roughly but not gently, either. Jeane’s breath caught in her throat at the way he manhandled her, his fingers lighting softly on her. She could feel the heat through her dress. She should be frightened. This man was large enough to snap her in half, but what she felt was not fear—more like exhilaration. Something tight and warm coiled in her lower stomach that she did not recognize.
Jeane squeaked again as she smelled his scent—pine and sweat and the iron smell of blood. It was an odd, intoxicating mixture, and it made her head feel fuzzy until she shook it to clear it. Jeane hid her face with her hand.
“And who is the lass?” Aiden asked in a drawl.
Fergus threw an arm around her shoulders, and Jeane grunted disapprovingly but did not move.
“She’s our new healer,” Fergus announced. “She’s goin’ to help Lottie. And yer brother.”
She could feel Aiden’s eyes on her even though she could not see him, keeping her face hidden.
“Aye?”
“Aye,” Fergus said flatly. “Now, go to me staff, tell them to prepare me sister for a new visitor.”
Aiden nodded and walked off. Jeane sighed at the sound of his retreating footsteps, relieved.
Fergus looked down at her.
“Ye’re a scared little mouse, aye? Aiden wouldnae hurt a fly unless I ordered him to.” He paused, letting go of her arm. “Are ye goin’ to tell me yer name now, lass?”
Jeane looked up at him, lifting her chin defiantly. “If I tell ye, can ye promise nae to spread it around?”
“Why nae?” he asked, his eyebrows ticking up.
Jeane huffed out a breath. “Me reasons are me own. I will tell ye me name if ye promise to keep it quiet.”
Fergus kept looking into her eyes, as if she might change her mind, but Jeane stood firm and silent, holding his gaze. She could not show him that she was afraid, that her heart was galloping in her chest.
Besides, she honestly did not feel afraid of Fergus the way she was afraid of Aiden and other men. He had had his chance to hurt her on the road, and he had not.
She was not sure if she could trust him, but she had to try, unless she wanted to go back to her father.
“Aye,” Fergus said quietly, his voice husky from lack of sleep. “Aye, I will keep it quiet.”
