Page 81 of In Bed with her Highland Foe

Tynan appeared through the crowd, the soldiers parting for him.

“Ah, I see ye have grown handsomer still,” he laughed and marched forward, clapping Gilchrist on the cheek when he saw his scars. “Good God, brother, how many more battles have ye won since we parted? Or lost?”

“Tynan,” Gilchrist murmured. “Ye cannae ken how I have missed yer humor.”

“Ye have been missed greatly too, Brother.” Tynan pulled him into another hug.

Gilchrist could have cried with relief. He had been so certain his brothers would greet him with resentment and hatred, this was a dream come true.

“Come, come, inside,” Brayden clapped the two of them on the soldiers. “We have given the people enough tae ogle at fer one day.”

“Ye think ye’d be used tae being the center of attention by now brother.” Tynan laughed, then his eyes fell on Kyven. “Ah, and who dae we have here?” He tried to swipe up Kyven’s hand to kiss it, but Gilchrist snatched up her hand before his brother could and even Brayden stepped in the way, much to Tynan’s amusement. “Aye, I take it this lass is taken, then?”

“Aye, she is,” Gilchrist warned.

“Ye should see him these days,” Brayden said with a roll of his eyes as he steered them all toward the keep doors. “With the lasses. So aye, Lady Kyven, I encouraged ye tae stick with Michael and steer clear of Tynan. He breaks far too many hearts.”

“Me heart is spoken fer, I can assure ye.” Her hand entangled with Gilchrist’s as they walked toward the door.

He smiled at her, overawed at the situation and the ease with which it was happening. There was no anger at all, only smiles.

“Come, let’s get ye settled.” Brayden somehow summoned food and drink in seconds. He had steered them all to the front room in the castle, dominated by stag heads and great plush wolf furs, making the grey stone walls warm and welcoming. Even the rich mahogany furniture was covered in red silk cushions these days, and the fire in the hearth that dominated the room raged with flames.

“Now,” Brayden said coolly as food and drink was pressed into their hands. “Me lady, would ye like tae bathe and rest whilst we talk tae our brother about the many things he nay doubt has tae tell us?”

“Nay chance,” Kyven sat closer by Gilchrist’s side, giving him another reason to smile. He wrapped an arm around her, eager to keep her close.

“I like her,” Tynan said with approval from a box chair nearby. “She’s fiery.” He topped up their goblets with mead.

“Nay one has spirit like Kyven,” Gilchrist said, looking at her with full meaning. She smiled up at him, then took a sip from her mead.

“Michael.”

Gilchrist turned to face Brayden who had spoken. It was strange. In his mind he still thought of himself as Gilchrist, and he was having to remind himself to respond to that name now.

“Tell us all,” Brayden encouraged, leaning forward out of his chair. “We kenned in the end well enough why ye left.”

“Ye did?” Gilchrist asked slowly.

“Aye. Elisa married Laird Shay but a month after ye disappeared.” Tynan sighed, and for a rare moment, couldn’t find a jest. “It didnae take a great leap of the imagination tae realize that Shay must have gone a long way tae make it happen.”

“Aye, he did.”

“So? What threat did he make?” Brayden said.

Gilchrist looked at his brother. Even without answering him, he could see that Brayden had guessed the answer. Brayden was one of the most intelligent men he had ever met, and the glint in his eye told him that Brayden already knew.

“Our lives and Elisa’s?” Brayden suggested, gesturing between him and Tynan.

“Aye.” Gilchrist nodded.

“Pah!” Tynan tipped back his head and laughed. “Michael, in case ye hadnae noticed, Brayden and I can take care of ourselves. Ye werenae the only one tae get more battle scars over the years.”

“What if Laird Shay had used poison instead of a sword? I couldnae take the risk of losing either of ye.”

“And he threatened Elisa,” Brayden pointed out, nodding slowly in deep thought. “I never did understand why she married Shay so quickly. Perhaps he threatened her too.” Then his eyes slipped away from Gilchrist and fell on Kyven. There was another question in that look, then a widening of his eyes. “God’s wounds,” he muttered.

“How is it ye ken everything?” Gilchrist asked. He could see it – he knew Brayden’s face well enough. He had deduced exactly the situation that had led him here.