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With a final glare, his brother spun away and stalked back toward the great hall.

He wasn’t ready. She was so lovely, and strong. Could she truly love him?

“Gillian, I can’t—”

“You can,” she said. “And you will. I was worried, Graeme. To leave like that—”

“I’m sorry, Gillian. I need to see Fiona.”

With that, he took his leave. Graeme knocked on the chamber door not far from his own. He opened it just slightly. “Fiona?”

Nothing.

Fear gripped him as he opened it wider. The bed was empty. Surely if something had happened to her, Aidan or Gillian would have—

“Are you lookin’ for someone, my lord?”

The relief almost toppled him to his knees.

“You’re looking well,” he said, trying to act as if he hadn’t worried.

But Fiona was not fooled. She’d spent too much time with his grandmother, knew him too well.

The maid put her hands on her hips. “So you thought me dead, did ya?”

He didn’t deny it.

“You’re wet,” she said, looking him up and down.

“Caught in a rainstorm on the way back from Dunmure.”

Fiona’s eyes brightened, and Graeme remembered she held a special affection for Alex Kerr.

“He’s doing well,” he said before she could ask.

“And Lady Clara?”

Though Fiona had not met the lady, he was not surprised that her affection for the man would extend to his wife. He smiled. “Is also doing well considering she’s prepared to give birth at any moment.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said, pushing her way past him. “Can’t say the same for your wife.”

He should not, would not ask. “What do you mean?”

She stopped, turned, and gave him a look that told him exactly where her new loyalties lay. “You should not have left as you did.”

Only Fiona would say such a thing to her chief, though right now, he was not anxious to speak to anyone about his wife.

“I had my reasons,” he said.

“But do they matter?” With that, she turned and left.

Graeme shook his head. Sometimes he wondered if his own grandmother possessed Fiona’s body, so similar were their words and mannerisms.

As he stepped into his bedchamber, which smelled maddeningly like Gillian, he had the first inkling of an idea. He had planned to send an envoy to Kenshire to inform the earl that Douglas had proposed a private meeting between Clan Scott, the Kerrs, Kenshire, Clave, and the English Warden. Or . . .

This time, he did gather some belongings. England was not a half-day’s ride like Dunmure. Raining or no, he could be at the abbey by nightfall if he left now. Though he did not like it, Graeme had to find Aidan and Gillian to tell them this time. He looked longingly at the bed he’d once happily slept in alone. What would happen when he returned?

Graeme pushed away the thought as he changed his clothes. Fear would not serve him well now. Graeme would show his wife just how much she meant to him.