Page 38 of His Secret Highland Bride

Shane glanced at him, taking in the scar on his brother’s otherwise handsome face. It was daunting, yes. But after one got used to it, it was easy to overlook.

“It isn’t that bad. I assume your cock still works?”

Alec gave Shane a shove that nearly knocked him off his feet. “I’ll thank ye not to worry yourself over my cock, ye bastard.”

They were silent the rest of the way to the castle.

“Ye on the door, open for the MacPherson laird,” Alec called up to the guards, who cranked the door open in a matter of seconds. In the bailey, people stopped and stared.

“Are they looking at you or me, Alec?”

“Who knows? People don’t know how to keep their eyes to their work and let others go about their own business.” That last part was grumbled loud enough for those around them to hear, and Shane thought perhaps the name Trow wasn’t given to him on account of his face but for his surly attitude.

The bailey looked as it always had, but the frowns on the faces of the people gave the place an air of despair. He’d felt the same on his short trips into the village. How bad had things become? And more importantly, what could he do to repair the damage his father and stepmother had done?

They moved through the great hall, which was vacant except for a few maids cleaning the tables. New tapestries hung at either end. One was of a couple. When he looked closer, he realized it was supposed to be his father and Deirdre. At the other end was an angel. But, once again, he saw it had Deirdre’s likeness to it. He snorted a laugh. “An angel?”

“I have no words,” Alec said and continued toward the stairs.

No words were necessary. Shane remembered well enough how infatuated his father had been with his Deirdre. No doubt the older man saw his wife as an angel. Shane had thought Maria an angel when they’d first met, and Lindsay had seemed heaven-sent as she helped heal his aching heart. Still, he’d never spend needed money to have their likenesses made into a tapestry that took up the bulk of the wall.

Shane and Alec headed into what had been his father’s study. Now, he supposed it was his. Though he had no plans to spend much time in it, if it could be helped. Deirdre’s head snapped up when they entered the room, and from the way her lips pulled together it was clear she was ready to yell at anyone who might deign to interrupt her. But when she saw him, her lips pulled into a wide grin, just as false as it had always been.

His stepmother was only pleasant when it suited her and only to those who had the ability to do something for her. Shane expected he now fell into that role.

“Dearest son,” she said as she rushed to him with arms held wide. She was, of course, dressed in a fine gown with a choker of emeralds around her neck. The cost of it could have fed a few families. He allowed the embrace, but when he moved to pull away her grin was replaced with tears. “Oh, your poor father so wished he would have lived long enough to see you again.”

Instead of stepping away, she drew closer and wept on his shirt. Fake as they may have been, they still made the fabric wet. “I’m just so glad you’ve finally made it home. As soon as the Wallaces arrive, the wedding can take place as your father wanted.”

Unwilling to go into the issue of a wedding that wouldn’t happen and get into an argument with his stepmother as soon as he walked in the door, he simply changed the subject.

“What needs to be tended to first? I don’t plan to stay in the castle. I’m set up in Ronan’s cottage, and for now I wish to stay there.”

Deirdre frowned but didn’t argue. “How is my sweet Ronan?”

Shane had never known Ronan to be sweet since the day he showed up at Cluny Castle at ten years of age.

“He is well. We parted ways so he could see his grandfather. I imagine he’ll find his way here at some point.”

“It will be so wonderful to have all my sons home again.”

“But just your sons?” Tory said with a snide look as she entered the room.

Shane broke out in a smile to see his younger sister before he picked her up and twirled her about.

“Ye grew into a bonny lass, Victoria,” Shane said. She had been full grown at eight and ten when he’d last seen her, but the years had added a maturity she hadn’t had back then.

“Put me down, ye big lout,” his tiny sister complained at his mishandling of her. But as before with Alec, Shane was the oldest and therefore had the right to devil his younger siblings as he saw fit.

“Verra well, I’ll not twist ye about,” he said as he reached out and ruffled her hair, which he knew she hated just as well.

She batted his hand away, but he saw the smile on her lips. “Welcome home, brother. It’s good to see ye.” Her smile slipped as she leaned closer. “Is Ronan truly well?” she whispered.

Tory and Ronan were the same age, and Shane had noticed more than once the hearts in his sister’s eyes when she looked at their stepbrother. Shane wondered if Ronan’s absence was the reason she’d not yet married. Was she waiting for the heir of the Grants to make an offer for her? There was no reason for an alliance with the Grants, since they were already allies.

But Shane didn’t have any plans to marry his sister off to anyone she didn’t wish to marry, so if Ronan wanted her, Shane would bless the match even though it made him squeamish to think of his brother and sister marrying. Even if they didn’t share the same blood.

“Shane was just getting settled. Tory, would you let the kitchens know the new laird has arrived and have them plan a feast for this evening’s meal?”