CHAPTER SIX
Duncan was standing by the narrow window of his study, watching the yard below with an attention that was more habit than focus. The room was familiar with its stone walls lined with shelves of ledgers and maps and a heavy writing table bearing the marks of long use, but his thoughts refused to settle into their usual order.
He had already sent for Iain.
The knock came sooner than expected, and it was firm and unhesitating.
“Enter,” Duncan called out.
The door opened, and Iain MacRae stepped inside without ceremony.
At nine-and-twenty, the captain of the Grant army cut a formidable figure. He was broad-shouldered and solidly built,and he wore his red hair pulled back from a face that bore the quiet wear of years spent training and fighting. There was a sternness to his expression that often unsettled those who did not know him well, but Duncan knew better. Behind that rugged exterior and battle-hardened posture were kind brown eyes that missed very little.
Duncan turned from the window as Iain came fully into the room, a hint of amusement touching his mouth. “Ye’re prompt as ever.”
“Aye,” Iain replied, but his gaze was already sharp. “I thought I’d better be. Are the rumors true?”
Duncan’s brow lifted. “Which ones?”
“That ye arrived this morning with a beautiful young woman seated in front of ye on yer horse,” Iain said flatly. “One who now occupies a chamber close tae yers.”
The amusement faded. Duncan exhaled through his nose. “News travels fast.”
“Faster when it’s interesting,” Iain countered. “And thisisinteresting.”
Duncan turned away, irritation threading through him. “She’s a healer. I met her on the road. We need one, and she agreed tae come. It’s as simple as that.”
Iain studied him, clearly unconvinced. “That explains the healer. It daesnae explain the rest.”
“Thereisnay rest,” Duncan scoffed.
“Aye,” Iain replied calmly. “Now, that’s what concerns me.” He shifted his weight, arms crossing over his broad chest. “I ken that ye tend tae decide things in the spur of the moment. It’s one of yer finer qualities when steel is drawn and blood is spilled. But this,” he gestured vaguely, “this is beyond even ye.”
Duncan shook his head. “I’m surprised we’re discussing this at all. I did what was best fer the clan. Weneeda healer.”
“I dinnae dispute that,” Iain said. “I question the manner in which she arrived.”
Duncan met his gaze squarely. “She is capable. That should be enough.”
“How dae ye even ken that?” Iain asked. “Nay… this has tae be something else… have ye finally decided tae take a bride and this is yer way of testing us to see whether we accept her?”
The question landed harder than Duncan expected.
“Nay,” he said at once. “Absolutely nae. Elaina is simply a healer I met on the road.”
“Is she now?” Iain replied with more amusement now. “Because her belongings were moved tae the chamber closest tae yers.”
Duncan scowled. “The healer’s cottage is unusable, as ye yerself ken well.”
“Aye,” Iain said, his grin widening. “An unfortunate circumstance. Leaves ye with very few options. The situation practically forced her into proximity.”
Duncan chuckled despite himself. “I assure ye, I didnae orchestrate the rain or the flooding.”
Iain laughed outright at that. “Pity. That would’ve been impressive.”
The initial tension eased between them, and familiarity settled back into place as easily as old armor.
Iain shook his head, still smiling. “Duncan Grant, ye go on and claim innocence.”
