She cracked the door open. Joan stood on the other side, lookinguncomfortable. “I didnae wish to disturb ye, but yer brother insisted I get this to Master Torquil straightaway.” She handed the missive to Eilidh. “Will ye ensure that he gets it?”
Eilidh nodded, confused.
Joan curtsied and hurried away.
Closing the door, she turned the note over in her hand.
“What is it?” Torquil asked from the bed.
“A missive. For ye.”
Torquil sat up, his brows drawing down. “Me?” He pushed his hair out of his face. “Who is sending me a missive?”
“My brother,” Eilidh said quietly.
“Read it,” Torquil prompted. “I have naught to hide from ye,” he said as he stood and splashed water on his face and hair from the basin, then proceeded to dress.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to ken what was inside. Why would one of her brothers send Torquil a message? Why not just come talk to him? A feeling of foreboding washed over her.
“Are ye going to read it?” Torquil asked, standing beside her.
Nodding, she broke the Hart wax seal and unfolded the parchment. She recognized Alpin’s scrawl straightaway.
“Torquil MacGregor,” she began. “For acts against my sister, Eilidh Hart, I present ye this formal challenge in her honor. A duel at sunrise on the morn.” Eilidh gasped, and she clamped her hand over her mouth in horror. “Nay! What is he thinking? Is he mad?” She spun to Torquil.
He said naught. Only plucked the message from her hands and read it silently to himself. Then aloud, finishing what she had not. “No one is to interfere.” He nodded as if accepting.
She shook her head in disbelief.
“Ye cannae. I will get to the bottom of this.” She pulled open the door, intent on finding her brother.
“I doonae need ye fighting for me, Firebrand.”
“That,” she pointed to the parchment in his hands, “is unnecessary and uncalled for.” She ran down the hall, ignoring Torquil’s calls for her to return.
The castle felt cold, unbearable. As if the walls were closing in on her as she searched for Alpin. She finally found him on his way outside. Without thinking she ran to him, tackling him with as much strength as she could muster. He barely budged and instead gave her a bored look. “Good morn, sister.”
She slapped his arm. “Dinnae give me any of yer false cheeriness, brother. What have ye done?” she asked furiously.
He shrugged, ignoring her outburst. “I need to ken if Torquil is man enough to bleed for ye.”
“Ye will kill him!” she shouted, ignoring the looks of servants who popped their heads into the corridor to see what all the ruckus was about.
“At least he will prove his love then, will he no’?”
“Ye cannae be serious. Call this off. Right this instant,” she demanded.
He pierced her with a fierce glare. “I willnae.” Then moving her to the side, he left the castle.
Throwing her hands up in frustration, she raced back to her chamber, ignoring Morven when she called out to her asking what was amiss.
“Ye must refuse,” she ordered Torquil as soon as she closed the door behind her. “Ye must,” she repeated, fear clawing at her throat.
“Ye ken I cannae, Firebrand.” He moved to wrap his arms around her, but she pushed him away.
“This isnae love—’tis pride. And stubbornness,” she cried.
Torquil’s response was quiet, but for certs. “This isnae about honor—’tis aboot showing Alpin that I willnae run.”
