Page 54 of Fire in his Highland Heart

Blake exhaled again. He felt like he hadn’t breathed deeply for a while, even though he did quite a fair bit of sighing lately.

So much to do, and perhaps not so much time.

* * *

James made good time, and arrived at Bruckstone Castle in exactly three days. The entire time, he could not imagine traversing this on foot, much less in petticoats, as Arguen had done. The things women were capable of often amazed him. He made a mental note to comment on that when he returned with Douglas.

After tying up his horse and telling a sentry his business, he was permitted to wait inside the keep, which felt like a little town square. Bruckstone was a fair bit smaller than Ernmore, if he remembered correctly. It had always been a jolly place, known for its hospitality, but James sensed that had changed. Something in the air, the manner of people’s walk, the furtive glances they gave, and the hushed tones alerted him that something had changed at this castle. As he looked up at the stone towers, even they seemed tired and less formidable. A flicker of movement in one of the narrow windows caught his eye, and he squinted to get a better glimpse. Was that a woman, looking out that window? Aye, it was—a woman with blonde hair and a stony gaze. It...it could not be...James’s eyes widened in sudden realization, but the woman was gone before he could take any action.

He shook it off. His mind was playing tricks on him, that was all. He just needed some ale and a good night’s sleep. Douglas came out of the castle at that moment, a grin on his otherwise haggard face.

“Och, ‘tis been far too long!” he exclaimed, striding over and embracing James in a hug.

“Indeed. How ye farin’ nowadays?” James asked. In that moment, he could see it for himself—not so well. He’d always known Douglas for his jolly manner and high spirits, but right now, he could tell that both of those were in short supply. He had dark circles under his eyes, his posture was not quite as straight and tall as it used to be, and he looked thinner. James grew more and more suspicious. What could possibly be happening at Bruckstone to cause all this gloom?

“I’ve had better. Does me good tae see an’ old friend, though.”

James smiled weakly. “Aye, it does. I have news for ye though, from Blake, if ye can stand tae hear it.”

Douglas looked around suspiciously, scanning the area for malicious watching eyes and listening ears. “Aye, but not here. There’s a tavern, short walk from the castle. Let’s go there. I trust ye need a drink after such a journey.”

“Och, aye, an’ ye might as well when ye hear the news.”

Douglas had someone fetch James’s horse to the stables to take care of it for the night, and the two of them walked to the tavern afterward. It was nothing special—just a dark den on the edge of the village. The people inside looked much the same as the people in the keep—tired and on edge. Douglas ordered pints for the both of them, and they settled at a table in the corner. He still scanned the area, as if watching for those eyes and ears. James couldn’t help but notice the man’s leg shaking. He’d never had a problem like that before. For what could he be anxious?

“Douglas, what’s happenin’ here? Why does everyone look...” James struggled to find the word.

Douglas took a healthy gulp of ale. “Afeard? Tired? Angry?” he asked.

James nodded. “All three.”

Douglas heaved an enormous sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. “Ever since Malcolm married, his new wife casts this uncertainty over everythin’. We never ken what she wants or when she wants it, and we never ken if our orders are from Malcolm or her. And Laird Morgan...well, he’s in a bad state. ‘Tis only a matter o’ time ‘til he passes, and Malcolm takes over. Which wouldnae be so bad...except we all think he’ll just be a puppet for his wife. And we cannae forget the issues wi’ my sister. How fares she, by the way?” he lowered his voice at that last part, his eyes darting across the room again.

James had to process everything Douglas told him before he could answer. Laird Morgan’s sickness could certainly cast that pallor over the castle, but he wondered...what sort of woman was Malcolm’s wife that she could cause such foulness in the air?

“I’ll answer ye first, then I want tae ken more about Malcolm’s situation. So,” he lowered his voice to match Douglas’s, “she’s well. Thriving, honestly. She’s braw at healin’, and Blake’s taken a shine tae her.”

Douglas raised his eyebrow in amusement. “A shine, as in...”

James smiled. “He’d like tae marry her, if that’s well wi’ ye. I ken yer the only family she has left.”

“Aye, aye to both. I give them my blessing. I’m surprised Blake feels for her. I didnae think he had any feelings, other than hunger or anger.”

The two men laughed at this ridiculous statement, breaking the iciness of the rest of the tavern. Others looked at them in confusion or disgust, so they quickly quieted down.

“Aye, he does want tae marry her. I kent it from the moment she attended the first feast. He didnae take his eyes off her, an’ glared daggers at any man who danced or spoke wi’ her. Including me.”

Douglas smiled weakly. “At least she’ll be protected. Blake is a good man, despite that gruff nature.”

“Aye, she’ll be well cared for. She looks happy now. Ye’ll see that soon enough. Now...tell me. When did Malcolm marry this sour woman?” James asked, looking intently at Douglas.

The other man took another large gulp of ale before speaking. “Round about three an’ a half years ago. Malcolm wasnae happy ‘bout it, but Laird Morgan said ‘twas for the best. She’s English, ye ken. His reasonin’ was trade ties or somethin’.”

A chilling tingle ran up James’s spine at that. “English?”

Douglas nodded. “Aye, an’ cold as they say. Made herself like the queen as soon as she arrived.”

It couldn’t be...thought James. “That’s just like the lily-livered bastards, nay?” he asked.