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He still wasn’t sure he understood. “And that is what you wanted to tell me?”
When her hand found the iron handle of the door this time, she opened it. “Not precisely.”
“Then what is it?”
She looked at him as intently as a skittish deer might regard a hunter. And then turned when a movement outside the door caught her attention.
“Fiona!” she exclaimed. “What are you—”
“I came to see if my lady needed anything.”
Graeme did stand then and made his way to the door.
“Are you well, Fiona? Are you sure—”
“Very well, my lord,” Fiona replied. “And ready to venture outside.”
Gillian looked back at him, blinking, and then turned to the maid.
“Come, Fiona,” she said. “I am not certain you should be alone quite yet. Perhaps you should ensure, just for a time, you are accompanied by someone. Or at least in the presence of others.”
A good idea, in case the mysterious ailment returned. He had been about to offer his services, but his wife was too quick for him. She’d already reached for Fiona’s arm and guided her away from their chamber.
Gillian looked back at him, and Graeme could not decipher her expression. Resolve? Sadness? Regret? What had she wanted to tell him?
And why did I insist on acting like an utter fool?
I need to make this right.
* * *
Why had she not told him?
Gillian left Fiona in Morgan and Allie’s care and missed the morning meal. She needed to think. To devise a plan. Though she still wanted to know what had become of Graeme last night, she had not found the courage to ask. Something was clearly troubling him, and she thought perhaps it had to do with her.
She’d nearly said the words, “I love you, Graeme,” but fear had held her back. She’d spoken instead of her father. Everything she’d shared with him had been true, though it wasn’t exactly a blazing declaration of love.
Tonight. She would tell him tonight. She’d ensure he’d come to their chamber to sleep, and she would surprise him by ending the agreement and telling him how she felt.
“I’ve always wanted a sister.”
She spun around, one foot on the steps leading to the door of the main keep.
“What do you say, Gillian. Can I call you sister? It’s true enough, is it not?”
“Back so soon, brother?”
Aidan bowed as if he’d accomplished a great victory. “You’ll find my men along . . . eventually.”
Gillian looked across the courtyard but saw no one except a few servants.
“We rose at dawn and raced back,” he explained.
“And how goes Brockberg?”
He frowned and looked over her shoulder. “Not as well as expected.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked, immediately alarmed. Had something else happened to disrupt the peace?
