Grace’s voice broke and breathed in the torrential tears threatening to fall. He did not utter a word. All that existed between them were her harsh breathing, and the tense knowledge that there no lie in her words.
“Pretend ye dinnae ken me. ‘Tis what I plan. Fer me, yer naethin’ but the laird’s son. No, the laird’s married son.”
“Nae. Listen tae me. I suspected they may have been planning this, but I didnae expect that it would be so soon or that Lady Emily would be here. No one had told me about the decision or the announcement.”
“That doesnae concern me.”
He tried to hold her again, Grace backed away bumping into the doorknob behind her. “Jo, dinnae dae this.”
“Duncan? Are ye there?” Bryce’s voice floated up. Grace opened her door and went inside, slamming it in his face.
She stayed close to the other side of the door, listening to Bryce as he came closer, “What are ye doin’ there alone?”
“Naethin’.” Duncan replied. “What is it?”
“Emily said ye disappeared suddenly an’ yer father wanted tae see ye, regarding the recent ambush.”
Emily. Ambush.
Duncan must have nodded because she heard their footsteps disappearing.
The days swept by and he could not get a hold of Jo. She was determined to out stay of his way. Since the engagement had been announced, he could not disrespect Emily by seeking her out. Even if it was maddening being without Jo.
Every day that passed, it was like a million ants were crawling under his skin, driving him to the point of ignoring his good sense. Also, in the midst of this all, Duncan was engrossed in the activity of straightening the clan.
Meetings upon exhaustive meetings were being held with his father, Bryce, Laird Ian and Clan Hay’s closest men. Due to thepersonal nature of the last attack, Duncan could not ignore the situation. The fortresses had to be fortified. Weapons had to be sharpened and polished. The storehouses had to be replenished. Double the usual men had to secure the gates, patrol the bridges and guard the castle.
Duncan did not feel there would be an the attack, simply because it was not exactly in the nature of the English to ambush. Not without a premeditated cause. He suspected Jo’s presence with them had something to do with the last attack, but he could not be sure. How important could a simple Highlander woman be, for soldiers to risk their lives in that manner?
The evening was coming to an end. At the round table, Duncan shifted his gaze from his slumbering father to Laird Ian and his son. It wasn’t without bitterness that he regarded them.
Craig was his right-hand man in the clan, but he considered Bryce to be his closest friend. A friend who sprung his sister on him, clamoring for an alliance that Duncan didn’t want.
“I believe that is everythin’. Unless anyone has anythin’ further tae contribute,” Laird Ian spoke, while caressing the glass of wine before him. He avoided looking in Duncan’s direction, as he’d been doing in the past few days. The man had taken the role of a father to him since his father’s ailment. Even before, when the calamity of his brother’s death struck and his parents were distraught, Ian had been the one who had stepped in and taken the reins while the family grieved their son.
From the head of the table, Duncan stood. “Aye. Craig will oversee the filling of the storehouses and armory. I will station men around the clan with Bryce. An’ scouts will be sent to verify the cause of the last ambush.”
Bryce and his father exchanged looks. “Was it nae for revenge?” Ian asked. “I heard the commander lost his life. Tis natural for his men tae come back. It might be a waste of resources tae go lookin’ fer trouble, now that yer back home. Ye could focus on trainin’ the men.”
“I would rather nae be surprised again, me laird.”
“Ye werenae taken by surprise at the camp.”
“Aye, because we had scouts and we will again.”
His voice brooked no further argument. Ian peered down at his glass, discovered it empty and called for more wine. His loud voice startled Laird Fergus from his sleep. Duncan would have preferred for his father to rest in his chambers while he handled the affairs. But his mother had reported privately that Fergus would often weep, bemoaning the sad turn of his life and his inability to complete the simplest tasks.
Duncan placed a fond hand on his father’s shoulders, asking, “dae ye want tae rest a little?”
“Nay, let him drink a bit with his old friend,” Ian said. Fergus’s pale lips lifted in a weak smile and a slight nod. The glass in front of him remained full and untouched.
The doors swung open from the servant’s entrance as Duncan resumed his sitting position. He finished his drink and with a silent nod at Bryce, he planned to vacate the hall. However, when he looked up, he saw a woman emerging from the doors. It was Emily, decked out in her finest dress. An attire shimmering with a golden light, much like the hair on her head. Jewels sparkled on her pale, long neck, ears and hand.
Duncan’s eyes stayed on her for only a few seconds, then glued to the woman behind her. Duncan’s heart leapt into his throat at the sight of Jo. She was dressed in a simple blue gown, with white flat sleeves. Her dark hair, swept back in a single braid. Her beautiful face glowed under the setting sun’s reflection. In her arms, she carried a tray holding a jar of wine.
Duncan was at the edge of his seat, willing her to meet his eyes.
Emily waved her in, and she kept her head high, and maintained her gaze ahead. Once at the table, a flitting smile at the three men, she greeted, “me lairds,” and curtsied. Duncan’s jaw tightened as he watched her hands grasp the jar’s handle to pour their drinks. Hands that were thin, slender, with skin smoother than the finest silk.
