“Get out of my way,” Ian said, and shoved his brother aside.
Unfortunately, both his feet and the floor were wet. When Niall tackled him, he slipped and fell backward to the floor. Then his brother proceeded to pound his head and torso, all the while shouting, “How could ye do it! How could ye!”
Ian was sorely tempted to beat the living shite out of his baby brother when Alex finally pulled Niall off him.
“What took ye so long?” Ian said, as he pulled his shirt over his head.
“Maybe I thought ye deserved it,” Alex said.
“I didn’t touch Dina.” Ian turned around and shouted at her. “Tell them I didn’t touch ye. Tell them!”
While his head was turned, Niall broke free from Alex’s hold and landed a blow to the side of Ian’s head that made his ears ring. He couldn’t see to block the next punch.
He woke up on the floor by the hearth, with his mother hovering over him and his head pounding like the devil.
“Where’s Sìl?” he said, starting to get up.
His mother put her hand on his chest. “Don’t move, or I’ll hit ye in the head myself.”
“Mam, I need to see Sìl. She thinks I did something I didn’t do.”
“Give her time to calm down,” his mother said. “Even then, you’ll have a hard time convincing her. I’ll tell ye, son, it didn’t look good.”
He supposed it didn’t—not with he and Dina both naked, and his cock at full mast.
“Maybe ye should let me talk to her,” his mother said.
“So ye believe me, mam?” He needed someone to believe him.
“You’re like your da,” she said, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Once ye find the woman ye want, ye quit looking.” She turned as Alex came through the front door with a gush of cold air. “My sisters were no so lucky. I hope Connor and Alex don’t follow their fathers’ shameful examples.”
“What’s that you’re saying?” Alex said, as he crossed the room. Then he leaned over Ian, grinning. “So, are ye finally awake? Next time we go ’a fighting, I want your brother with us.”
“How long have I been lying here?” Ian bit back the nausea and sat up, despite his mother’s protests.
Alex shrugged. “An hour?”
“I want Dina gone from this house,” Ian said, as he stumbled to his feet.
God’s blood, his head hurt, but he had to talk to Sìleas. He held onto the walls as he went up the stairs. When he reached her bedchamber door, he tapped softly.
“Sìl.” He tapped again. “Sìleas. Let me explain. Please.”
Nothing.
He went back three times.
When she still refused to answer the fourth time, he said, “I’m coming in.”
He tried the door, but she’d pushed something against it. He rammed his shoulder against it, opening it a crack, but jarring his aching head something fierce. Hoping she didn’t have a skillet, he poked his head through the opening.
The stillness of the room sent a prickle of unease up the back of his neck. He could see now that it was the chest she’d pushed against the door. After giving the door another shove, he stepped inside.
As he stood in the middle of the empty room, his gaze moved slowly from the clothes strewn across the bed to the yellow gown that she had been wearing, which lay in a heap on the floor. The pounding of his heart was loud in his ears against the silence of the room.
He turned to look for her cloak on the peg by the door, though he already knew it would be gone.
It was.
