He lifted his arms around Mac—MacPherson.
He was Torin MacPherson. He had forgotten, but now it gave him a sense of belonging. He was a MacPherson and he had his brother back.
He had two.
“Is Lord Rothbury my brother as well?” he asked, withdrawing from their embrace.
“Aye,” Cainnech told him, his smile fading. “The babe.”
Torin shook his head in disbelief. “How did he survive? How didyousurvive? Where have you been?”
“They are long conversations we will have. But now, Nicky needs to see ye.” Cainnech stepped away and ran his hand down his face. “There was a tragedy early this morn. Nicky’s beloved wife died givin’ him his son. We buried her this afternoon. He is grief stricken. I canna comfort him. I believe God sent ye here to us to help him.”
“Where is he?”
Cainnech pointed to the doors. “He is in the gatherin’ hall, stayin’ as far away as possible from his babe and from the constant condolences. Losin’ Mattie has taken much from him. Mayhap gettin’yeback will help heal him.”
Torin swiped his hands across his eyes and nodded, and then, with his heart racing, followed Cainnech through the doors.
Now Torin understood why Cainnech had been staring at him earlier because he couldn’t keep his eyes off his brother now. Their coloring was different, but Torin saw traces of himself in the subtle nuances of the commander’s expressions.
Cainnech MacPherson was a fearsome warrior. Torin was sure that any who came against him would die where they stood. He was impressive, even in the confidence of his gait.
“Do you fight for King Robert?” he asked quietly just before they entered the hall.
“Not as much as I used to. If I am needed, I will come. Now, tell me, what ye are doin’ in Northumberland.”
“Infiltrating Carlisle Castle,” Torin told him. “I am the first one in and the last one out. The king is soon to arrive to take the stronghold. I need to be there.”
His brother stared at him and hooked his brow and one corner of his mouth into an upward slant. “Then what are ye doin’ at Lismoor?”
“Keeping Miss Hetherington safe. She is a skilled warrior and a firm enemy of the Scots. She is also a…ehm…a reiver.”
“An outlaw!” his brother threw back his head and laughed. “Come! We must tell Nicholas.”
They entered the large hall, furnished in heavy, dark walnut. An enormous, cooled hearth was carved into the northern wall. There was no need of a fire on this warm summer day.
Torin looked toward the front of the hall, but the two largest chairs were empty.
Cainnech began walking toward the back of the hall, to a chair in the shadows, and a man who sat alone.
“What is it?” The young man drawled when Torin and Cainnech approached. “Leave me alone, Cain.”
“Nicky, Commander Gray has arrived.”
Torin’s baby brother looked up at him. “I am sorry, Commander. I do not want to see anyone.”
Torin slipped into the bench on the other side of him. “You have my deepest sympathies, my lord.”
The Earl of Rothbury sat forward, exposing his face to Torin.
Torin didn’t remember him, but he looked much more like Cainnech than Torin did. His eyes were slightly more silver than blue, and bloodshot and swollen.
“Long live your son,” Torin said, holding up a cup that someone set in his hands a moment ago.
Cainnech cheered along. Nicholas lifted his cup but only stared at Torin.
“I have seen you before” Nicholas insisted, “in Berwick. Two years ago. You were there before the attack.”
