It was late when Tor strode through the sea-gate. His gaze fastened immediately on the man standing in the courtyard, waiting for him. The prodigal had returned.
Colyne had brought word earlier from his henchman Murdoch of their arrival. Tor would have come right away, but he’d been helping the guard ready for the journey. Tomorrow they would leave for the Cuillen Mountains to begin the last—and most intense—phase of training. What some called Perdition. It wasn’t much of an exaggeration. But nothing brought a team together like shared suffering.
Tor had been waiting for this moment for a long time. He closed the distance between them in a few long strides. Torquil watched him approach uncertainly, but before he could open his mouth to say anything, Tor drew back his fist and slammed it into his brother’s jaw. Torquil’s head snapped back, and he let out a pained grunt.
God’s blood, that felt good!
Massaging his jaw with his hand, Torquil eyed him warily, as if expecting another blow. Tor hadn’t decided yet.
“It’s good to see you, too, Chief.”
“Chief? Convenient for you to remember now,” Tor said icily. Rain pelted him in the face. “Is there a reason you are standing outside and not in the Hall?”
Torquil looked uncomfortable. “I’d ask for a moment alone first, if you don’t mind.”
He did, but his brother seemed unusually earnest. “Leave us,” Tor said to the other guardsmen. When they’d retreated, he said, “Now, explain.”
Torquil gave him an uncertain look, trying to gauge his mood. He should have known better. Tor gave nothing away. Finally, his brother shrugged. “I knew you’d be angry.”
An understatement, and Torquil bloody well knew it. “And you thought I’d be less angry standing outside in the rain?”
Torquil squared his shoulders and met his gaze, steel to steel. “I didn’t want to upset her. Good thing, after that greeting.” He rubbed his bruised jaw for effect.
It took Tor a moment to realize what he meant. “So I’m out here freezing my bollocks off so your abducted bride doesn’t have her tender feelings hurt?” he asked incredulously. His brother had gone daft.
The muscle in Torquil’s jaw jumped. He locked his jaw and nodded. “The lass is not to blame for what happened. It is I alone who deserve your wrath, so do what you will, but I’ll not have my wife forced to witness it—or to get the wrong first impression of you.”
Tor’s gaze narrowed. “And what impression is that?”
A wry smile lifted his brother’s mouth. “You can be a little terrifying on the rare occasions you lose your temper.”
Not all that rare since he’d met Christine, Tor thought. He arched a brow. “Only a little?”
Torquil grinned. “Meg doesn’t know you like I do. She might think you truly mean to lop off my head or other parts she’s grown particularly fond of.”
“She’d be right.” Tor had already had a report from Murdoch, his captain and henchman, but he would hear his brother’s explanation before deciding his fate. “Give me one good reason why I should not put you in irons and toss you into the dungeon right now. You knew exactly what kind of trouble this marriage could bring down upon all our heads and still you defied me.” He took a step closer, clenching his fists at his side, his fury rising. Torquil might find this amusing, but what he’d done could have jeopardized years of struggle and forced them into war. “How could you do something so damned foolish? So damned irresponsible? Do you have any idea what I had to agree to, to prevent Nicolson from attacking?”
Torquil met his fierce onslaught without flinching. “You left me no choice. I hoped you’d understand that now.”
Tor frowned. “What in Hades are you talking about?”
“I heard the circumstances of your marriage and thought you’d understand. I had to have Meg. She is mine. No matter what the consequences.”
News traveled fast. Tor’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “No lass is worth sacrificing your duty to your clan. What you heard was false. My marriage was the price of peace for yours.”
At his brother’s puzzled looked, briefly Tor explained what had happened at Finlaggan and the terms of the devil’s bargain he’d struck with MacDonald. As histanaiste—at least for now—Torquil had a right to know the danger they were in, even if he was largely responsible for it.
Notwithstanding Tor’s anger and their very different natures, the bond between the brothers had always been strong. Torquil knew him better than anyone, and sometimes better than Tor wanted him to. Tor could feel his brother’s penetrating gaze studying him carefully as he finished the story.
Torquil shook his head in disbelief. “She tricked you, and yet you still agreed to marry her?” Tor did not answer, knowing it sounded unfathomable. “You’re sure there is no other reason?”
“The marriage and agreeing to train Bruce’s secret guard was the price to secure MacDonald’s help to stave off Nicolson.” Tor’s mouth turned grim. “Though I’m not sure it was worth it, if it gains us MacDougall’s enmity.” He told his brother about the sheriff’s recent “visit.” “Whether he believed that I was besotted, I don’t know—nor at this point does it matter. My marriage to a Fraser was enough to make Edward and his new lackey start asking questions.”
“But you knew this could happen,” Torquil pointed out.
He shrugged. “Aye. It was a possibility.”
“Yet you still married her.” Torquil shook his head again, sending icy droplets of water spraying from his hair. “Are you sure there is no other reason?” he persisted.
