Page 47
“But I don’t understand. Each month—”
“Apparently Douglas and Hedford came to an agreement, because of Blackburn, to conduct it and put an immediate end to the proceedings. There is a consensus . . .”
“There may be trouble brewing.” Graeme chanced a glance at Gillian. “I need to go. Immediately.”
“Aye, you do,” Aidan agreed. “I’ve already had your mounts prepared and the men readied. I’d come if—”
“You know I could never allow such a thing. I need my second here, especially now.” Aidan understood. He’d not leave Gillian unprotected. Ever.
Aidan nodded—it was what he’d expected, of course—bowed to Gillian, and left.
“I’m sorry, lass,” Graeme started. But his wife cut him off.
“’Tis not your fault. Go,” she urged. “See the offenders of the raid brought to justice.”
And he could tell she meant it. Activity whirled around them in the courtyard, but it felt as if the two of them were alone together. He brushed away a tug on his heart that had nothing to do with desire. For the briefest moment, he imagined this same scene, years from now, with bairns at their heels. Gillian had experienced the very worst of welcomes to Highgate, and yet, she genuinely seemed to understand.
They’d not have their wedding night yet, but he’d be damned if he’d leave her like this. So, in full view of everyone, he pulled her toward him.
And kissed her.
With every bit of pent-up desire . . . with the burgeoning feelings he didn’t care to categorize . . . with every part of himself, Graeme kissed her. He held her face to him and did not hold back. She gave of herself freely, and he took her offering.
He stopped only when cheers erupted around them.
Graeme held her face still, his thumbs running against the smooth skin that felt so unlike any part of him. How had he gotten so lucky?
“I plan to do just that,” he said. “And when I return”—his lips turned up ever so slightly—“we will finish . . . the custard.”
Gillian’s laugh, the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, followed him away from Highgate End.
* * *
She sat next to Aidan at the evening meal, grateful for an ally. But not completely clear on why he was still here.
“You are Graeme’s second,” she started, picking at the figs in front of her.
“Aye, lass. That I am.”
“And this particular Day of Truce is rather important given that the fiend Blackburn is on trial?”
She didn’t understand his chuckle.
“My apologies, Lady Gillian. I’m just . . . pleased to hear of your assessment of Lord Blackburn on behalf of Highgate.”
Gillian could not allow him to think that, exactly. “Of course, I am rather vexed on behalf of Clan Scott.” She nodded to a servant, who filled her goblet with more wine. “But Lord Blackburn’s underhanded tactics are well known in England as well.”
He looked at her curiously.
“My father said he was actually caught cheating at the last Tournament of the North. And that he made an enemy of Clan Kerr ever since.”
“Your father is correct.”
“He did not have many kindly things to say about the man.”
Aidan took a bite of the lamb in front of him. She was about to ask him a question about Graeme when two Scott clansmen entered the hall and waved Aidan toward them.
“Pardon,” Aidan said, standing.
