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But instead of following him, her father turned toward her. “I will be along,” he said. “First, I must speak to my daughter.”

She knew that tone. That face. He’d used both to get her to agree to wed an old man in place of her sister, as if her permission was needed. And that was when Allie knew. The information about Caxton was not the only reason her father had made this trip to Scotland. And when she stepped to the side of the hall with him, Allie could easily discern his expression.

“Nay, Father, I will not—”

“I’ll not ask you to marry again without your permission. But an Englishman—”

“You have Lyndwood, and both Gillian and I escaped the life you planned for us.” She would not be persuaded by him. Not any longer. And though her fingers began to tremble slightly, Allie clenched them together. “My home is here now. In Scotland.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “We will speak more on this later.”

It would have been so easy to agree, to pacify him and flee. Instead, she squared her shoulders, noticing the colors in the tapestries around her, bright and bold. Looking back into the eyes of the man who bore her, she said, “Nay, we will not.”

When he blinked, Allie’s voice softened. “When I return to Lyndwood, it will be as a visitor to you and Mother.”

He never used the word “love,” but Allie hoped her father understood now. Though she did not agree with the decisions they had made raising her and Gillian, she did love both him and her mother. Willing him to understand, Allie made one final appeal.

“On your next visit, bring Mother. I miss her.”

And you. And Lyndwood. But I am staying here, in Scotland.

When Graeme walked tentatively toward them, her father did not wave him away. Instead, he nodded to her and joined her brother-in-law. It mattered not whether his nod was one of acquiescence or an acknowledgment that their conversation was not yet ended. She would not waver. Ever again.

21

Toren extended his legs in front of him. “Do you think it will work, the attempt to remove Caxton?”

Reid and his brother had been locked inside the solar for the last hour. The solar provided more light than most rooms at Brockburg, and his brother spent much time in here. It was the ideal place for Reid to recount his time at Highgate. Which he did, with one notable exception . . .

He shook his head. “Nay, I do not. But what alternative do we have?”

“I don’t like it.”

Reid could have predicted his brother’s response. Though tolerant and more cautious than most, Toren was still angry about the attack and even more so about Caxton’s appointment.

“None of us do, but the alternative . . .”

The alternative to peace was war. And though perhaps it was inevitable, both of them remembered their father’s stories about life in the borderlands before the Day of Truce.

Toren sighed.

Reid understood his frustration, but there was nothing to be done. For now.

“Alex was there.”

Toren sat up straighter in his chair. “Why?”

Reid frowned. “To ensure his baby brother was representing Clan Kerr well?”

“He would not—”

“He would, and you know it as well as I do. Alex has had as difficult an adjustment to Dunmure as you’ve had to life without him in Brockburg.”

Toren simply looked at him, holding his gaze, and Reid grew restless under his scrutiny. None quite had the ability to set him on edge like his brothers did. And perhaps Catrina, whose lectures were frequent and varied and very often centered around the female company he’d once kept, but no longer. She claimed to speak so to him out of love, but Reid was certain his own mother would not have taken her role as savior as seriously as his sister.

Even so, he missed her.

“My adjustment need not be so difficult. If only you’d agree to let me start the proceedings for naming you as my second.”