“Arran,” he called to his brother-in-law. “With me, if you would. I have matters to attend to that need your presence.”
Arran cocked an eyebrow, but did not resist. Kiernan supposed, after everything that had happened over the last dayor so, he did not hold the same animosity towards him. Kiernan led Arran to his study, where he called for his advisors and allies to gather for an emergency meeting.
It seemed that news of Mary’s vanishing had spread quickly around the Keep because everyone who stepped through that door seemed to have a question about where she was and what had happened to her. Kiernan assured them that he would explain once they had all arrived, and, sure enough, once the place was full of his most trusted advisors and allies, he rose to his feet, and began.
“As many of you already ken,” he began. “One of my most trusted advisors, Archibald, has betrayed me on this day.”
A murmur of shock passed around the room. He narrowed his eyes, glancing around, taking in their reactions. He was sure that the way each of these men responded would tell him all he needed to know about whether they agreed with what Archibald had done or not.
“He stole away my wife from the Keep,” he continued. “And he intended to slay her. He would have, had I not had the help of my brother-in-law Arran Aitken to stop him.”
He gestured to Arran, who nodded slightly, acknowledging his words.
“Because he believed that she had me in her thrall, and would do nothing but damage my kin and my clan,” he said, his words edged with a bitterness he could not contain. “And I would like to make very clear, in this moment, that anyone who shares this sentiment should leave. Now.”
His words hung there in the air between them, and he narrowed his eyes as he looked around, daring them to argue against him. A silence clung to the room, as though everyone was frozen with such horror they could not imagine what would happen next.
“If ye take yer leave now,” he told them, his voice dropping slightly. “Then I’ll no’ pursue any of you fer charges of treason, though I very well could. You’ll just be asked to leave this place, and never to show your faces here again. Is that clear?”
He knew that Archibald could not have been the only one to have conspired against him in such a way, he was sure of it. He knew that there would be those who’d have plenty say on his marriage, his choice of wife. But he knew he would not let her slip through his fingers again, not for anything or anyone, and he wanted anyone who might have doubted what they shared out of his sight before they could do any more harm.
Finally, a chair scraped back. Callum rose to his feet, not breaking eye contact with Kiernan for a moment. He nodded at him briefly, and then made his way to the door. As soon as he had broken the quiet, he was followed by another man, then another, until nearly ten people had followed him out of the room and down the stairs, leaving this place behind for good.
Kiernan let out a sharp breath. Much as there was a part of him that hated to see these people leave, these people who had been so loyal to his family over the years, he knew it was for the best. His father had taught him, without a shadow of a doubt, that he could not lead a group of people who did not trust him or believe in his choices entirely. Though he could have had them all strung up as traitors, he would rather let them walk free than make an example of them, after he had already killed Archibald. Mary was a sweet thing, and she would not have wanted the blood spilled in her name, not if she could avoid it.
Once they were gone, and the sound of their footsteps had dissipated into the air around them, Kiernan clapped his hands together.
“Which brings me, gentlemen, to the other matter of the morning,” he announced, nodding over at Arran. “As some of yeno doubt already ken, the Aitkens and our clan have often found themselves… at odds, over the years.”
Arran snorted slightly, as though amused by the understatement. Kiernan smiled.
“But, now that we have joined together via my union with Mary, Arran has proved himself to me as a worthy ally,” he continued. “And I would like to take this opportunity to confirm our alliance, once and fer all. Arran?”
He turned to the other man, and Arran stared at him for a moment, as though not entirely sure of what he was hearing. But then, at last, he nodded, a stoic expression crossing his face.
“Aye, we may have had our differences,” he replied, extending a hand to Kiernan. “But we’re far stronger together than we are apart.”
They shook hands, and, for a moment, locked eyes. Kiernan could tell that Arran was doing this for the good of his wife. Mary and Amelia had bonded them together and created the alliance that Kiernan’s father had never been able to. It might not have come in the way he’d expected it, but Kiernan was glad to have a man like Arran on his side, and he hoped that he could prove himself to be as worthy an ally to him in return.
Soon after, the meeting dispersed, the advisors muttering among themselves about all that had happened. Kiernan knew that this would keep the gossip mills turning for a long time. Pausing in the doorway before he left, Arran raised his eyebrows at him.
“I cannae say I much expected that.”
“I think, fer the good of our wives, we’re better friends than enemies,” Kiernan remarked. Arran grinned—probably, Kiernan thought to himself, the first real smile he’d ever seen from the other man.
“Aye, I think ye’re right,” he agreed, and he glanced around. “Speaking of, I’m going tae check on Amelia…”
He made his way to their quarters, and Kiernan, for a moment, gathered himself before he made his way to Mary’s quarters to see her again. He was sure there was still so much that needed to be said between the two of them, and he hardly knew where to start in finding the words for it. But he knew, if he wanted to be with her, they had to find some way to navigate the enormity of all that had happened, and he would not leave his wife alone to manage it without him.
He headed to her chambers, and, when he knocked on the door, she called for him to come in. Stepping inside, he found her on the edge of the bed, brushing out her hair, her skin damp from a bath—just as she had been on the first night he had come to her here.
She offered him a small smile when she saw him, almost a little shy, and then patted the bed beside her.
“Here, sit with me,” she offered him, and he took the chance at once, lowering himself down beside her, breathing in her scent. She finished brushing out her hair, and he was distinctly aware of how delicate the tendrils looked against her damp skin. He wanted to reach up and brush them aside, but he knew he needed to earn his right to touch her again, after the way he had treated her.
“May I tell you something?” she asked him softly, and he nodded.
“Anything, Mary.”
