To be expected, given the late hour, the castle was quiet, so I made my way up to Lachlann’s chambers without crossing paths with anyone, only to hear him coughing from down the hall. Known for my healing touch, it wouldn’t surprise anyone to find me up here tending to Lachlann after he’d nearly drowned, especially now that we were to marry.
Slowing near his door, I watched him sitting in front of the fire with my white husky Oksana, staring into the flames. His shoulders were slumped in defeat, and there was no doubt atouch of sadness in his weary gaze eyes I had seen a time or two since meeting him. Despite the warmth of the fire and the plaid blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, he shivered ever so slightly. That, combined with his pale, drawn skin, warned me he struggled more than he should to recover from his accident. Handsome for his years with graying sandy blond hair and dark sea green eyes, he typically had the energy of a younger man, so now, I was worried.
“You need not linger at my threshold, lassie,” Lachlann rasped softly, managing a kind smile when he looked my way. “Come in and enjoy a wee dram with me, my friend.”
When Oksana remained by Lachlann’s side, rather than running over to greet me, I knew she sensed something was wrong with him.
“You should be in bed,” I chastised, grabbing a fur blanket off the bed and wrapping it around his shoulders. “Resting and healing. Not sitting up in this drafty castle drinking whisky.”
“’Tis warm enough in front of the fire,” he assured, thanking me for the extra blanket. “And ‘twill be warmer still with whisky in my belly.”
“Three mugs, then?” I asked, noting there were three wooden cups instead of the usual two reserved for him and Declan, enjoying a nightcap together.
“Aye,” he said. “I knew you would be by to check on me when I was too tired to see your sister off, so I figured tonight we three might share a dram and talk.” His gaze grew serious, if not a touch sad, again. “There are things we must discuss.”
“Of course.” Pouring whisky into all three cups, I became acutely aware of my talisman warming against my skin. More so, aware of a new heaviness in the room that bespoke a difficult conversation indeed. “As you wish, Lachlann.”
Tending to the fire next, I added a fresh log, wondering how long Declan intended to hover in the shadows of the hallwaywatching us, because I knew he did. And I knew when he entered moments later that his hesitation had a great deal to do with the heaviness in the room. One that had everything to do with his father not recovering as he should have. I had felt that same heaviness when tending to my father after a bear attack years before, then again more recently when I nearly lost Soren.
“Sit, son.” Lachlann gestured at the chair beside him. “I thought, mayhap, Astrid could join us tonight.”
“If ‘tis your wish.” Declan sat, sipped his whisky, and frowned at his father. “Did you receive word of something happening in the brief time we were gone? Despite how careful we were, did someone hear of Soren’s presence?”
“Nay, all is well enough for now.” Lachlann took a small, tentative sip of whisky, wincing as if it pained him to swallow. “’Tis more matters within these walls for our ears only.”
When I sat on Lachlann’s other side, and my talisman continued warming, I knew whatever he was about to say would be profound. Life-changing. Hard to hear, if not outright painful, and I was right.
“Matters of things to come,” Lachlann went on softly, pulling free the handkerchief he’d been coughing into, only to reveal specks of blood. “Dire things, I would say.”
“Och, Da.” Declan’s gaze widened at the damning blood, and he cursed under his breath. Clenching his jaw, worry flared in his gaze as he searched to make sense of this, however foolish his theory. “’Twas that heathen saving you, aye? He cast a curse on you so you might suffer despite us harboring him and—”
“Stop,” I bit out, unable to bear it. Narrowing my eyes at Declan, I met his frown. “Soren isnota heathen any more than I, nor do we know how to curse people.” Resting a comforting hand on Lachlann’s arm, I tried to keep in mind that Declan responded out of fear, given how close he was to his father. Rather, I focused on Lachlann, trying to hide my own fear. “Iinsist you get into bed so that I might care for you. ‘Tis crucial now more than ever that—”
“Nay, not right now, lass.” He looked back and forth between us before his gaze settled on Declan. “I will enjoy what might verra well be my last whisky with my two dearest friends and tell you my wishes.”
And so, he did, sharing the last thing we expected to hear.
Chapter Two
-DECLAN-
Although I nearly didn’t join Astrid to check on my father as I said I would, thinking it wiser to wait until she was gone first, I was helpless to do anything but follow at a distance. Helpless to stay away from her from the moment I first laid eyes on her when I came home from battling on behalf of King Alexander.
From the moment our gazes first connected when she was walking over my drawbridge while laughing and speaking in her native tongue to a group of wee bairns, I had been riveted, despite hating myself for it. Whether or not she fully grasped it, she and her people were swiftly becoming the enemy in these parts, yet still.
The enemy was bloody beautiful.
With long, intricately braided hair the color of honey spun in sunlight, her large, thickly lashed eyes were a striking pale blue like a clear winter sky, and her features were delicate. Dainty, even, just like the rest of her. She was so slender and petite, she seemed like a willow among oaks, yet the longer I watched her move among the children, the more I saw a strength in her I suspected many did not. One she didn’t show the world, but certainly showed me every chance she got after that.
I never would have expected, upon being introduced, that she and my father had become such good friends despite their different backgrounds. Not until I realized who sired her and why she was here. I had heard of her father, Earl Bjorn Helvig, a renowned Norwegian warrior.
And I had heard of her and her sisters.
Did I believe they were fierce shield-maidens? Looking at Astrid’s slight frame, God no. Did I think they were seers? Absolutely not, despite her accurately forecasting the storm thatshipwrecked my father’s ship so recently. A storm that very well might have taken my life had I been with him. To my mind, it had been a stroke of lucky guessing, given the especially volatile weather around here lately.
Or so I kept telling myself.
Lingering in the shadows outside my father’s chamber, watching her, I could admit it had been uncanny. Neither that, nor her marrying my father had anything to do with why I hadn’t insisted she leave with her sister, Freya, though. The truth was, I couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving, even if I could not have her for more reasons than one.
