Ian didn’t smile. “Are ye certain aboot wot ye told mah?”
Remy’s own smile faded and he gave a single nod. “I’ve never lied tae ye before now. Why would I lie aboot this?” When he had arrived home, he had gone straight to Ian and explained what was going on and how James was forcing Gretna to wed him. Ian, just like Remy thought, had immediately told him to go and get his sister, but the roads had been plagued for nearly a week by torrential rains that made the road back to the McCellan land unpassable. Remy had nearly gone half-crazed with the need to leave, but Ian had forbidden it, stating that James wouldn’t hurt Gretna.
Still, with each passing moment, Remy grew even more anxious to return. He worried for Gretna, for what she might be enduring in his absence and his chest clenched every time he thought of that arse making her pretend that they were getting married.
Regardless of his feelings for Gretna, he had not relayed any of them to Ian. Remy knew that once he got Gretna back to her home, he would have to walk away from her. He wasn’t worthy of being her husband. He couldn’t give her the life she wished for.
There was no need for Ian to know what had transpired between them, at least not from Remy. He hadn’t taken her innocence and she would be allowed to find her future, the one that she wished for.
Even if it killed him to watch her do so.
Ian leaned back in his chair. “Are ye certain there’s nothing more, Remy?”
Remy cleared his throat. “Nay, there is nothing more.” That would be the first and only time he would lie to his closest friend.
“Then I wish ye a safe journey,” Ian said a moment later. “And bring back mah sister.”
Remy placed his fist over his heart and saluted his laird, his closest friend before walking out of the keep, his boots splashing in the mud. His stomach churned at what Ian was entrusting him with and how he had betrayed his trust by touching Gretna.
Aye, but she invaded his thoughts, his dreams, and his feelings and Remy knew it wasn’t going to be easy to push her out of his life when the time came.
Throwing the bag over the horse’s rump, Remy strapped it down and took the reins from the stable boy, climbing on top. He would bring her home and then walk away.
18
A few days later
Gretna drew a breath and looked at herself in the mirror, admiring the way the dress fell against her form. “Tis lovely,” Trista replied, smoothing out the skirts before stepping back. “Ye will rob them of their speech this evening.”
Gretna gave the maid a small smile. Now that she was of no threat to Trista, the maid had attended to her over the last few days and they had forged a small friendship as Gretna worked toward her plans to leave. She didn’t, however, ask about Trista’s relationship with James. That was none of her concern and if the maid could stand sharing him with others, then she wouldn’t judge her over her choices.
As for Gretna, there was only one Scot she wished to see and he had yet to make an appearance, which worried her greatly. Had something happened to him on the journey home? Had the highwaymen, they had been so concerned about, attacked Remy when he was riding home? He was strong and fierce, but even he would be unable to defend himself against a group of Scots out for blood.
She should have forced him to take the guards with him.
Shaking off her troubled thoughts, Gretna patted the sweeping updo of her hair.
“Thank ye for yer help.”
Trista nodded and moved to the door, opening it to find one of Gretna’s guards waiting. “Are ye ready?” he asked, barely looking in Trista’s direction.
“Aye, I might as well be,” Gretna replied, walking over to take his arm. James had made it clear that she was required to attend dinner this evening, mainly because the other members of the council would be in attendance and he wanted them to see that she was still infatuated with their union.
Gretna felt rather ill at the thought.
Still, she took the guard’s arm and allowed him to escort her to the great hall, where the sound of laughter filled the air. There were a great number of people milling about and when she arrived, a hush fell over the crowd, admiring her gown and lovely hair. “Seems mah intended likes tae be the center of attention,” James drawled as he came into view, looking handsome in his silver threaded tunic and breeks, a glass in his hand. “And a worthy pause nevertheless.”
Gretna smiled at James as he walked forward, extending his hand toward her. She placed her hand in his and he pulled her to his side. “I expect ye tae be on yer best behavior tonight.”
“As do I,” she countered lightly, cringing as he slipped his arm around her waist. “Donna give mah a reason not to be.”
He gave a loud laugh as if she told him some sort of secret jest and led her to the high table, where the laird awaited them. “A vision,” he told Gretna, holding out her chair for her. “Ye get lovelier each and every day, lass.” He leaned forward as she went to sit. “Far too lovely for the likes of mah son over there.”
“Yer son just told mah the same,” Gretna said evenly as she took her seat. “But he’s quite handsome as well. I see where he gets his looks from.”
James met her gaze and for a moment, she saw a fleeting glimpse of respect in his eyes before he blinked it away, falling into the chair across from hers. Gretna couldn’t imagine what it might be like to always live in his father’s shadow and though she detested James, she couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him.
“Well,” James finally said as ale was poured for Gretna and the conversation returned to a hum of activity around them. “I trust that ye are almost done with the wedding plans?”
