CHAPTERTWELVE
“Come and play cards with me, Lorna,” Athol said with a grin after dinner passed, and she had bathed and dressed. Her mother was absent from dinner, staying up in her room, and her father had taken his dinner in his study, and she was glad for it, for she wasn’t sure how she would speak to her father after what he’d said that morning. Bryce had also not appeared at dinner to her slight disappointment. After practicing with her sword, she’d bathed and spoken to her mother about the funeral for a little. But her mother was feeling slightly ill, and so she’d left her to rest.
“Fine, Athol,” she smiled. “But ye have tae promise nae tae try and let me win. I hate when ye do that. I am nae longer a child in case anyone didnae notice.”
Athol chuckled, walking over to the table closer to the fire where he pulled out a box from near the hearth and took out a stack of cards. “Aye, donnae worry yerself. I did notice, lass. That is the trouble.”
Lorna rolled her eyes and watched as he dealt them each a set of cards. They would play their usual game, and even though she wasn’t really feeling up to it, it was nice that Athol asked. He seemed pleased with her presence, even though he was clearly still full of scolding.
He played a card and then, still looking down, he said, “I heard that ye saw the body this morning, lass. Why did ye go out there?” She saw his stubble-covered jaw clench. “Did Bryce tell ye tae go out there with him?”
Lorna scrunched up her nose in frustration as she laid out her own card. Bryce won the trick, and he took the cards, laying out another. “Nae,” she said. “In fact, he told me that I shouldnae, but I wanted tae.”
“Why on earth would ye want tae do that, Lorna? Ye are just a woman. Ye donnae need tae see such awful things.” Athol was looking at her now, and his tone revealed just how frustrated he was, not that he had ever been very good at hiding it anyway.
Lorna put down her next card, her anger growing. “Why must ye speak tae me that way, Athol? Have I done something tae offend ye? Are we nae family? I believe yer words are because ye wish tae keep me from harm’s way, but instead, ye show me anything but love with yer harsh pronouncements.”
Athol lifted his brows, clearly surprised to hear such vehement replies from his little sister. Lorna felt oddly satisfied after that. “Of course, I mean tae protect ye.” The door to the hall opened, and Lorna’s heart skipped when she saw it was Bryce coming toward them. Athol leaned closer to her. “And I shall keep ye safe from him, too.”
Sitting down next to her, Bryce was wearing a smile. “I thought I might find the two of ye here, since nae one was in the library.”
The chair he’d chosen was the closest one to Lorna. It was so close that when he flopped his large frame into it, his knee bumped against hers and stayed there. She swallowed, hoping that Athol couldn’t see just how close they were.
“Aye, we are playing games, but perhaps ye and I should play a game, Bryce,” Athol said, turning a steely gaze to him.
Lorna opened her mouth to speak, but Bryce said, “What do ye mean?”
Both men were frowning now, and Bryce was leaning on the table, his large arms partially obstructing her view of her brother.
“I mean that I ken ye are tae stay here tae help solve the two deaths with that bloody English commander, but I donnae like the idea of ye being so close tae me sister. Ye are nae worthy of the likes of her. She will marry a Laird, nae ye; and I ken yer reputation. I may like ye as a man and as a friend, but I cannae let ye make love tae her.”
“Make love?” All the breath rushed from Lorna’s body, and she put a hand to her chest to feel if she was still alive. Her face turned bright red, and she looked down, more humiliated than ever.
Rising to his feet, Bryce clenched his hands into fists, and he leaned over the table, putting his fists down. “I ken ye wish tae protect yer family, but I donnae ken why ye have tae do it so rudely, after how many years we have been friends. Nor do I think ye have tae do it in front of yer sister. Ye could have faced me like a man without an audience.”
Lorna closed her eyes when she saw Athol stand up and come face to face with Bryce. “Ye donnae think that I could fight ye like a man? I would do anything for the name of this family, MacDowell. I donnae need ye, with all the blood on yer hands, tae tell me otherwise.”
Finally, Lorna found her voice. She couldn’t tolerate this any longer, this toxic need for the men around her to assert their maleness and their power, either about her or in general. “Stop this madness. Why should ye fight?”
“Tae keep ye safe, lass,” Athol said without looking at her. “I donnae want men coming prowling around here with bad intentions looking tae ruin ye.”
“Athol McAdam, I am nae some object tae be ruined. Nae once have ye asked me opinion about things and the way me life is going. Nae father either.” Her voice was lifting higher and higher, and she was growing red in the face from anger. It was all spilling out now.
“I donnae ken why ye need tae make yerself look like a fool and claim that it is me ye care for and are trying tae protect.” She let out a breath of disgust, and not looking at Bryce, she pushed away from them both and stomped out of the room. It was too much, far too much, and she wished that she could run away like Bryce back to a different clan, a different life. She flew into the library and closed the door, leaning back against it and crossed her arms.
Maybe if she could leave, then she could be seen as something more than just a woman who’d been so much in love that she made a foolish choice. She could be seen as someone who had something to give. She huffed, trying to release the coil of anger that had built up in her chest looking at her brother who was all force and not much kindness. He wanted to keep her contained, even if she knew that he loved her dearly.
Pushing off from the door, Lorna walked toward the warmth of the fire, trying to remember good things, happy things, when she spied a painting leaning up against the wall next to the mantle. She paused and stared at it.
“Siusan,” she said under her breath, “that must be she.” She knelt and peered at the painting. It was strange to see her brother so young, and she had been too young herself to meet her older sister, or at least remember her.
“Do ye remember her, lass?” a voice asked, and she whipped around with a gasp to see Bryce staring at her. The door to the library had already closed again, and she was shocked she didn’t even hear his entrance.
Crossing her arms again, she said curtly, “Nae. I donnae. I was far too young.” She turned back to the painting, and a tiny longing tugged at her heart. “I wish that I would have kenned her. It might have made life easier tae have a sister about.”
Bryce chuckled, and it made her turn around again, heated anger still in her cheeks. He said, “Tae help guide ye, ye mean?”
“Nae, tae help soothe me when I am forever surrounded by ridiculous men who think they need tae fight over me and me future. That they need tae do that instead of ask me how I feel about anything.” She scowled at him. “I am nae someone tae be argued over, especially when one of the men is a scoundrel.” She moved her hands to her hips, and then pulled back a little when Bryce started walking toward her.
