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That was easy. “At Bristol.”
“Aye, years ago. And now Grace . . .”
His voice trailed off, but Graeme understood Aidan’s concern. He shared it. “This is precisely why Douglas is coming here. He’s met with the new English Warden, and it is my understanding there will be another meeting with the English before the next Day of Truce.”
“Meetings. That’s all we do any longer. Meet. Discuss—”
He was not in the mood for this. “Am I chief or no?”
His brother didn’t answer.
“We meet with Douglas. And hope for peace. If it can’t be achieved . . .” He shrugged his shoulders. “Then we do exactly what Old Ned and the elders did before us.”
“Which is?”
“We go to war with the English.”
Although he was quite sure his own English war had already begun.
* * *
“Nay, I didn’t want her. Not Gillian nor any wife. Not after Catrina. And then Emma.”
Get out of my head.
The words intruded on her sleep and during every waking moment. Gillian held a pillow atop her head, trying to rid herself of them for good, but they stubbornly refused to go away.
She could hear Morgan moving about in the adjoining room but was not ready to wake just yet. In fact, Gillian would be content to lay here for the remainder of the day. If only she hadn’t gone back for Graeme that night. And to think she’d returned to the hall to ask if he’d be up shortly. She’d still wanted to talk to him. To make things right.
She hadn’t meant to listen to the conversation, and was, in fact, surprised neither man had seen or heard her approach. But unfortunately, she had heard. And now, no matter what she did, Gillian couldn’t unhear the words Graeme had spoken about her.
Well, of course he didn’t want to marry you. This marriage was forced upon us both.
True, of course. But though she had known of his former interest in Catrina and Emma, Gillian had not realized how deeply they had hurt him.
Still, ignoring her husband was not a solution to their problems. Though she couldn’t do anything to solve her sister’s problems or her parents’ financial issues, she could surely do something to improve her own life.
Gillian tossed her legs over the side of the bed and called for Morgan. The maid appeared after the second time she called her name.
“Good morn, my lady.”
“Good morn, Mor—” She just realized where she’d emerged from. “What in the name of the king were you doing in there?”
When a flush crept up her face, Gillian was even more confused. Surely the maid shouldn’t be embarrassed to have been found in the wardrobe.
“You mentioned moving some of the trunks in there, my lady. You know I rise early and so . . .”
Gillian knew Morgan well. Something was amiss.
“Morgan?”
“Aye, my lady?”
“Is there something else you are not telling me?”
“Aye, Lady Gillian.”
She waited, but Morgan simply stared at her toes.
