Page 10 of In Bed with her Highland Foe

Ah, so he is a little afraid of me.

“I willnae dae yer bidding, but yer lips will stay locked tight about who I am. Ye understand, Shay?” He shifted the dirk in his grasp, making it clear through his movements why Shay should stay quiet.

“Then ye’ll say nothing of our past at all,” Shay appeared tae relent. “Aye? It all stays secret.”

What is he hiding? What is he hiding from Kyven?

Gilchrist adjusted his stance, moving his weight between his feet before he stood still. A surge of protectiveness swelled in his chest. He thought of Kyven’s fidgeting hands, the nervousness in her eyes that night they had discussed how she had to marry so the clan had a laird.

“What of Elisa?” Gilchrist asked. “I thought ye and she… ye married… how can ye marry Lady Kyven then?”

“Me first wife, ye mean? Ah, aye.” Shay put on an appearance of a heavy sigh, but Gilchrist was not fooled. “It was very sad. Death in childbirth. Nay easy thing tae suffer.” His eyes flicked upward, meeting Gilchrist’s. He was relishing in delivering such bad news.

Sick to his gut, Gilchrist took a step back.

Elisa is dead.

CHAPTER FOUR

“We’ll keep our secrets, will we nae?” Shay declared, continuing with their conversation as if he had not just rocked the ground beneath Gilchrist’s feet with this awful news. “Let us give each other a wide berth in this castle. I dinnae wish tae see ye, as ye dinnae wish tae see me. Give me that and yer dirty little secret about yer bloodline remains a secret.” Shay marched past him and walked out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The moment the door was shut, Gilchrist found the nearest chair. He sat down, dropping the dirk to the ground and raising his hands over his face.

“She’s dead,” he whispered aloud in horror. There was so much he wanted to ask, each question unlikely to ever have an answer. How long had she been dead? Did the child survive? Had she loved Shay in the end? Was she at least happy, even for a short time? Was everything he did in vain?

Michael felt a familiar sensation in his chest, the reconfirmation of the vicious hatred he still had for the man responsible for her death, Shay.

“And now he is pursuing Kyven.” The thought made his head reel. He scrambled to pick up the dirk, shoved it in his belt, then leapt from the room. Marching down the corridor he headed out of the castle, practically running.

Some of the guards called to him, wishing to chat as they so often did, but he had no words to spare for them. He held up his hand in silent meaning – he could not talk now. They did not bother to try again.

Out in the grounds, the wind tried to knock him from his feet. He walked around young recruits attempting to sword fight, striking air more than they did one another, then he headed straight into the barracks and toward his chamber. He kicked open the door making it bang off the wall inside.

“God’s death, are ye trying tae kill me with fright?”

Gilchrist halted, looking at Aaden who was sitting in his chamber beside a table, a dram of whisky already in his hand.

“Aaden,” Gilchrist’s voice was dark. “Out. I need time tae think.” He pulled the door open and pointed to the hall.

Yet Aaden didn’t move to stand. Instead, he reached for a second cup and poured out a little more whisky.

“Something tells me ye need this,” Aaden said calmly, now recovered from his surprise at Gilchrist’s sudden entrance. “Yer expression has been one of thunder ever since I told ye that Laird Shay Lamont was tae marry Lady Kyven.”

Gilchrist closed the door and hurried to take the whisky from Aaden’s grasp. He downed it and put the cup down again, ready for it to be topped up. Fortunately, Aaden dutifully did so without asking why he felt the need to drink so much in the middle of the day.

“Ye ken him?” Aaden said after Gilchrist had finished the second cup. Gilchrist didn’t answer but started pacing the room. “Ye pace now? Ye are never a man who paces. Ye sit in the corners of room and stare stoically and silently at everyone, even when news is bad, but pacing? Captain, this isnae ye.”

Gilchrist simply paced back the other way.

“Would I get more of an answer having a conversation with these walls?” Aaden asked, then turned to face one of the walls of the chamber. “Mad, is he?” he said, nudging the wall, as if it would speak back to him. “Come off it, Captain. Ye ken him.”

“What makes ye say that?”

“The fact that I had tae hold ye back, that ye leapt forward as if ye might slit the man’s throat there and then.”

“I wouldnae have harmed him.”

“Ye had yer hand on yer dirk,” Aaden reminded him.