Page 57 of It’s in his Highland Kiss

His father’s words gave him pause, and Eiric frowned as he looked at him. “A mission? What do ye mean, a mission?”

“I mean that since ye couldna complete yer task, she is doin’ it for ye,” the laird informed him. “Ye were wounded, ye could, and still can, barely get out of bed, Eiric. Someone had to spy on them.”

“And ye sent Marion?” Eiric asked, his voice suddenly shrill and panicked. He couldn’t believe that his father could have done such a thing. He had put Marion in so much danger, and all because he had a stupid war to win.

The war didn’t matter at all to Eiric, not when Marion’s life was in danger.

“As I said, I didna send her anywhere,” the laird insisted. “She was the one to decide that she wished to do this. And she is perfectly safe, Eiric.”

“She willna be safe when they find out that she’s a spy!” Eiric pointed out. “Have ye lost yer mind?”

“She found ye, and she rescued ye. She brought ye back alive, and she had nae a scratch on her,” the laird reminded him. “Ye taught her weel; have some faith in her.”

“I may have taught her weel, but there is nay sayin’ if they’ll find out who she is,” Eiric said. “What if she does end up dead, Faither? What then? Will it have been worth it, do ye think?”

His father didn’t reply. He remained silent, looking over Eiric’s shoulder, reluctant to meet his eyes.

“It was her decision,” the laird said once more.

“Ye could’ve stopped her.”

“Aye, I could have,” the laird said. “But what good would that do? At least noo we have a spy in the enemy territory.”

“Doesna her life mean anythin’ to ye?” Eiric asked. “And what about maither? How could she allow this to happen?”

“Marion can be a verra convincing lass, ye ken,” the laird said. “She somehow convinced yer maither, though she has her regrets noo. But I’m tellin’ ye as I told her, Marion can do this. She has done much more dangerous things in the past, and she has succeeded. The man who came and took her is fascinated with her, he willna let anyone harm her.”

That was the last straw for Eiric. He felt like his blood was boiling in his veins, his heart beating hard enough to be audible in his ears. Of course, his father didn’t know about the feelings between him and Marion, and Eiric was reluctant to tell him, because he was certain he would be opposed to any romantic relationship between the two of them. Still, it angered him beyond belief that he had sent her off to England with a man he didn’t know, a man who had sworn to defeat them, just like every other Englishman.

“I canna believe ye sometimes, Faither,” Eiric told him, shaking his head.

The argument had left him winded, and no matter how much he wished that he could go after Marion, he knew that he couldn’t. He was too weak to even walk, let alone ride a horse and fight. The only thing he could do was bide his time and rest, hoping that he would soon be well enough to follow her to England. Only then would his mind truly rest, once he would know that she was alright, and that the English hadn’t hurt her.

“There was nay stoppin’ her,” the laird said. “Come noo . . . ye should go back to bed. Ye shouldna be standin’ for so long.”

“Dinna tell me what to do,” Eiric said. “And I dinna need yer help. I dinna need anyone’s help. I’ll go up to me chambers on me own.”

He was being stubborn, and he knew it. It would be much easier for him if he allowed his father or someone else to help him climb up the stairs, but the words were already out of his mouth, and he’d be damned if he showed any weakness to anyone, even his father.

He was furious. He was furious that he had allowed such a thing, furious that Marion had gone to England, furious that he could do nothing to help. If only he hadn’t been captured and tortured, if only he wasn’t in that condition, Marion would be safe, in Scotland, where she belonged, instead of spying on the English army.

It was madness. She wasn’t ready for it, no matter how much she insisted that she was. She had saved him, that much was true, but she didn’t know the true stress of spying every single hour of every single day, of constantly hiding, constantly being in danger.

She hadn’t had enough training. His father could have sent anyone else, any of his men, but no, he had decided to send Marion.

Eiric stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked up, knowing that the only thing that would make him climb all the way to the top without any help was his spite. He had something to prove to his father, and so he began to go up the stairs step by step, just like he had come down only moments earlier. His legs began to tremble, and soon enough, he was drenched in sweat, but he never once stopped, nor did he accept the help that the servants offered him. He would do it alone, even if it took him hours, and in the end, he would look at his father, smug that he had made it.

He could already imagine the look on the other man’s face once he saw that Eiric meant business. It wasn’t about the stairs themselves; after all, it was hardly an accomplishment, even in his injured state. No, it was the principle of the whole thing. His father resented the fact that Marion had saved him, and that he couldn’t save himself, Eiric thought. Perhaps that was why he had sent her to England in the first place, to teach her a lesson, to show her that she was not as tough as she thought.

Perhaps I ought to yell at him some more. Perhaps everyone in the castle should know what he has done to Marion.

“Dinna argue in front of the servants,” his mother had told them both multiple times. “We dinna want any gossip,” she had said, but Eiric didn’t care about gossip anymore.

Once he finally made it up the stairs, winded and drenched in sweat, he turned around to look at his father.

He was nowhere to be found.

Chapter Twenty-Six