She blushed, lowering her gaze. “Aye, just not in marriage.”
The wry tone did not hide the sadness underneath. “Your parents did not have a happy marriage?”
She made a sharp sound. “My father gave my mother as much consideration as he would have given a serf. Most of the time he forgot she was there. When she did find the courage to speak, he would cut her down so cruelly, she eventually began to believe that she was as stupid as he made her feel.”
He winced, having seen more than his share of similar marriages. “Not all marriages are like that, lass.”
Her mouth twisted with cynicism. “Aye—some, like my sister Mary’s, are full of misery, heartbreak, and infidelity, and others, like my brother Duncan’s, are constant battlegrounds of strife and discord. He and Christina would fight for hours. He was constantly dragging her off to their chamber to do God-knows-what to the poor woman.”
Realizing she was serious, Ewen burst out laughing.
She bristled. “I don’t see what is funny.”
Seeing the hurt on her face, he sobered. “I’m sorry, lass. I can’t speak to your sister Mary’s first marriage. I knew the Earl of Atholl, and though he was a hell of a warrior, I didn’t pay much mind to his relations with women who were not his wife. I’ve known Sutherland for a while, though, and to my knowledge he has been faithful to your sister since he first set eyes on her.” He left out how amused they’d all been by it, given that Mary had rejected him as a suitor. “It was your comment about Duncan that made me laugh. His passion for his wife was well known—both in and out of the bedchamber. I suspect they made up just as passionately as they argued.”
Janet’s eyes widened, her cheeks reddening as she took in his meaning.
Her brows drew together. “How do you know so much about my brother?”
Damn. This wasn’t exactly a subject he wanted to be discussing with her. “I fought with him for a while.”
She looked stunned. “You did? Why did you not tell me before?” She seemed to realize something even as the words left her mouth. “You were with him at Loch Ryan, weren’t you?”
He nodded.
She let out a slow breath. The way it hitched painfully made his chest squeeze. He wanted to reach for her, but forced his hands to his side.
She was quiet for a moment, as if steadying her emotions. “How did he die?”
Ewen saw the blade flashing in the sunlight before it came down upon Duncan’s neck and forced the hideous image away. She didn’t need to know the details. “Bravely, lass. Like the fierce Highland warrior that he was. I was proud to fight alongside him.”
She knew he wasn’t telling her all of it, but for once she didn’t press. “It must have been horrible,” she said. “All those men who died.” She shuddered. “You were fortunate to make it out alive.”
“Aye.”
It had been a bloodbath. The MacDowells had been told of their arrival and had been waiting for them. Ewen had been in one of only twobirlinnsthat had managed to escape. Whoever had betrayed them had cost almost seven hundred men their lives. One day that person would pay.
Janet saw the dark emotions cross his face and regretted invoking the painful memories. But somehow it made her feel better to know that Ewen was with Duncan when he died. Though the loss of her brother would always be a painful hole in her heart, Ewen had soothed the hurt just a little bit.
Was it true what he’d said about Duncan and Christina? Had she so misinterpreted the feelings between them? What went on behind those closed doors?
Apparently more than she’d realized.
Suddenly, all those long hours in the bedchamber took on a very different meaning—one sensual rather than sinister. Her brother had always seemed so subdued afterward. She’d taken it for regret, but what if it was something else?
It was disconcerting to realize how little she knew about something that had been going on right before her.
She arched a brow, watching as Ewen fiddled with a bag tied to the horse, eventually removing a skin. How did he know so much?
After taking a long swig, he sat down beside her. It was nice, this, sitting here with him without a cloud of danger hanging over them. Apparently, in no hurry to continue their journey, she decided to ask him. “Did your parents love each other?”
He tensed almost imperceptibly. She sensed right away that the subject was not a welcome one. But he answered her question. “Aye, though they shouldn’t have.”
“What do you mean?”
“When my father abducted my mother—with her approval—away from the Chief of Lamont, it nearly destroyed my father and our clan. Had it not been for James Stewart, it would have.”
“Yet there is something undeniably romantic about it. Your father must have truly loved her to be willing to risk so much.”
