Malcolm stood, his hand in a fist. “But I was leading a group tae rescue ye! We are ready!”
“Nay,” Arran replied, glaring at his brother. “We are not ready.”
Malcolm made a sound of disgust before pushing away from the table and walking away. Arran sighed, knowing his brother had gone from having the weight of the clan on his shoulders to having him return, putting him back in his shadow. Arran conducted his business quickly after that and wasted no time hunting down his brother.
He found Malcolm in the sparring ring, a sword in his hands. Arran pulled his sword out of the scabbard at his back and stepped into the ring. “Ye look like ye need a partner, Brother.”
Malcolm glared at him. “Nay.”
“Aye,” Arran insisted, holding his sword aloft. “Come now. Show me what ye have learned.”
Malcolm hesitated only for a moment before he charged, Arran easily deflecting his sword with one swipe. “Tell me what angers ye.”
“Ye left us with nothing!” Malcolm yelled as the swords clanged in unison. “I had tae gather the warriors. I had tae find a way tae avenge yer death and that of the other warriors, and now, ye just ruined everything I had planned!”
Arran deflected another blow, surprise blooming in his chest. He had seen what his brother was going to attack McDougal with. He would have been slaughtered shortly after his arrival.
“Ye were not ready.”
Malcolm was breathing heavily as he lowered his sword. “I was as ready as we could be. Wot would ye have done if it had been me?”
Arran lowered his sword as well, his brother’s words striking him deep. “I would have come after ye.”
“As I was,” his brother replied softly. “I know I dinnae have yer strength or sword skills, but ye are mah brother. I was going tae avenge ye somehow.”
The fight left Arran, and weariness replaced it. “I’m sorry. I didnae think about wot ye went through.”
Malcolm dropped his sword in the dirt. “When we received the missive, Ma was beside herself with grief. I didnae know wot tae do. Uncle Fergus didnae talk for the rest of the day. I did wot I could.”
Arran crossed the distance between them and wrapped his brother in an embrace. “I’m sorry,” he said as Malcolm hugged him tightly.
Malcolm pulled away and ran a hand over his face. It was then that Arran realized his brother was growing up, the clench of his jaw no longer that of a young lad but of a man. “Dinnae leave me this time.”
“Nay,” Arran promised. It was time for his brother to join him in the battles. “Ye will ride beside me next time.”
Malcolm gave him a half smile as he picked his sword out of the dirt. “And wot about yer new wife? Wot will ye do with her?”
Arran returned his grin. “Wot are ye worried about with mah wife?”
“I heard she was bonnie,” Malcolm replied as the two brothers walked out of the ring. “That she is nothing like the woman that rode on that horse.”
“Aye, she is bonnie,” Arran admitted. In his mind, he could still picture her slim form, how the heavy dress had revealed a very bonnie last indeed. Now he didn’t know what to do with her.
“Then why are ye with me right now?”
Why indeed?
10
Ainslee watched as the storm clouds rolled in the distance, matching her mood. Gone was her disguise and in its place, a gown of deep green, molding to her frame and reminding her of her early days in her family’s keep. Her da had ensured that his daughter had been dressed in the finest gowns, and her ma had admonished him relentlessly for spoiling her so.
Ainslee could remember twirling in the great hall with her da, his booming laugh rattling her small body as he would lift her up high in the air, teasingly pretending to drop her.
When he had died, the light had been snuffed out in the keep.
Drawing in a breath, Ainslee turned toward the chamber, the one she would share with her new husband. He still did not know the entire truth about who he had wed; Ainslee knew she would have to tell him. He was right. This union could not be built on lies. It was wrong. He had wed her to either protect her or provide a bolster over her brother, but in the short time she had been in Arran’s company, she knew he was the strong, fair laird that Morea had stated.
But what if he threw her in the dungeon because of her continued lies? Ainslee shivered as she thought about the cold, dank place that she had first seen Arran. It would be the appropriate fate for her. She was not his lady, nor did she belong in this keep.
