Fin’s face reddened and something hard flashed in his eyes. “She got her vengeance though, didn’t she? You weren’t here, I nearly lost a bollock because of her.”
“You would have lost them both had I been here.”
Fin stared at him, his jaw clamped tightly as if he were fighting to hold back something. “I told you I was drunk.”
Was that an excuse? Maybe he hadn’t forgiven him as much as he said he had. Eoin drew a deep breath. Though he didn’t owe his foster brother an explanation, he gave him one. “It was more complicated than I realized. Margaret thought she was helping me.”
Fin didn’t hide his disbelief. “So you trust her again?”
Eoin didn’t answer; he didn’t have one. “She’s my wife, and the mother of my son.”
Fin stiffened, although Eoin hadn’t meant it as a dig. Marjory’s recent miscarriage after years of not being able to have a child had been heartbreaking for all of them, but Fin had taken it the hardest. He seemed to take offense if even the word “child” or “babe” was mentioned—as if there was some implied criticism of him.
“So forgive and forget, is that it? Well, have care that the lass doesn’t learn something to betray you again. What are you going to tell her about Campbell?”
Eoin’s eyes narrowed. He knew Fin was curious about his place in Bruce’s army and all the disappearances that he refused to explain, but how much had he guessed? Did he suspect what he and Campbell did or was it just a general question? “What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Just be careful. Her father has probably joined forces with Lorn.”
Apparently it was just a general warning this time. But at others, Eoin could swear that Fin suspected the truth.
Margaret wasn’t the only one hurt by Eoin’s keeping her in the dark. It had affected his friendship with Fin as well. Maybe just as much as Margaret had come between the foster brothers, Eoin’s secret life had as well.
And that was his fault.
Margaret’s words this morning came back to him: “I don’t want there to be any secrets between us... It cannot work otherwise.”
Their conversation had troubled him more than he wanted to admit. He knew she was right, but what the hell was he going to do about it? How was he going to continue to keep her in the dark about his place in Bruce’s army? Secrets had torn them apart all those years ago. Were they destined to repeat the same mistakes?
Damn Bruce. How could Eoin get his marriage in order if he couldn’t tell her anything? All the other wives knew what their husbands did. Did she not have a right to as well? Could he keep something that was so important to him from her?
As before, he was in an untenable position. The difference was that this time he knew it could not work. He could not leave for weeks and expect her not to ask questions. He couldn’t expect her trust, love, and loyalty and give her nothing in return.
But could he trust her after what had happened? Surprisingly, he wanted to. Looking back, he realized that much like him she’d been in an impossible situation. He’d given her enough information to be dangerous, but not enough to make the right decision. Did he wish that she hadn’t admitted his presence to her friend? Without a doubt. He’d been clear in his instructions, but he couldn’t blame her for doing what she did—her motivations had been pure.
If anyone was to blame, it was him. He’d put her in that impossible position by not telling her what he was doing there. But his damned cousin had given him little choice.
“Let me worry about my wife,” Eoin said, guilt taking some of the edge from his words. Fin had put one wall between their friendship, but Eoin had put the other. “Besides, she doesn’t exactly have a way of contacting her father—if she even knew where he was.”
Before Fin could reply, Eoin glanced to the doorway and saw Eachann watching them. How long had he been standing there?
“I’m sorry,” the boy said. “The chief”—he’d thus far refused to call him Grandfather—“said the meeting was over. I can come back if you want to play another time.”
Damn it, the game! Eoin had almost forgotten. “Nay,” he said quickly—and probably too eagerly, “We are finished here.”
The missive to Bruce could wait.
Fin nodded to Eoin and then greeted Eachann with a smile and cheerful hello. But Eoin didn’t miss the flash of pain—and something else?—that crossed his face when he first saw the boy standing there.
There was an awkward moment of silence after Fin left, where Eoin tried to figure out what to say. He didn’t want to say anything wrong or come on too strong. The lad was as skittish as a foal where he was concerned.
He wasn’t the only one. Bloody hell, how could a five-year-old have him so tongue-tied?
The boy shuffled his feet, and Eoin realized he was staring. He stood and went to the sideboard to fetch the set. “Your mother said you were a good player.” He tucked the board under his arm and gathered the pieces in his hands. “She said you can already beat her.”
When Eachann didn’t say anything right away, Eoin turned to find him apparently mulling his words. “Aye, but...” He let his words fall off. “She can add more sums than me in her head. I can only remember five or six. She can do up to ten.”
Eoin grinned. His son had the makings of a fine statesman. He put down the board and started setting down the pieces. “I don’t think your mother really ever took to the game.”
