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Kieran had another question. Many questions, actually. “Did she ask you not to tell me?”

His brother looked directly into Kieran’s eyes. “Aye.”

Before he could say anything, Niall continued. “She tries to protect you, Kieran.”

“By keeping the truth from me? What does she know?”

Niall shook his head. “She would not tell me. Only the story they’d always given, that you were found on the riverbank barely alive, a gash on your head, and taken to Mother. She claims none knew of your identity.”

“And yet, she learned I am a MacKinlay somehow.”

“On that, she would not elaborate. Said only that none but she and Father knew, and it was her hope you’d never learn of it. I argued with her, Kieran. Told her it was not right.”

“Arguing with Mother is akin to arguing with Father. Neither will budge.”

“Agreed. Which is why Lina said she will aid you. I will aid you too, if you’d let me.”

“Lina is here?”

“Nay, but I will send for her.”

He looked down into his ale. His brother, a Duncraig. Was he? Or a MacKinlay? Or perhaps both? Of that he was still unsure. He still had no parents to speak of. Was betrayed by a mother who never intended to tell him the truth and was as lost now as before.

Kieran looked up.

Perhaps not as lost.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“I know, brother. Now tell me what you’ve learned so far. And how we might fetch a meal. It seems the Red Stag Inn is both our homes for now.”

15

Chapter

They did not share the same birth mother, and so Kieran and his brother should not look alike. And yet . . . there was something similar about the men, perhaps the way they sat? Or used their hands when they spoke? Something about them told Maisie that the man Kieran sat with was his brother.

He’d waved her away earlier, but now Kieran caught her eye and nodded toward them. She made her way to the men.

“Niall,” he said, much more cordially than she expected as that was, indeed, his brother’s name. Yet Kieran was extremely angry with his brother. Or had been. Naught about his tone suggested anger. “This is Maisie, the owner of the inn. Maisie,” he said, the look Kieran gave her leaving no doubt about what had transpired between the brothers, “I am pleased to introduce my brother, Niall.”

Pleased to introduce . . .

Whatever Niall had said to Kieran, it was clear he forgave him. She smiled at the man who was nearly as handsome as his brother. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said.

Though he did not appear surly or unwelcoming, Niall’s smile was not as freely given as his brother’s. “As am I, my lady. ‘Tis a fine establishment, one I’ve been to just twice before. Once not many years ago, though I do remember a different owner.”

“My late husband,” she clarified.

“I am sorry to learn of your loss.”

Maisie could see Kieran watching her from the corner of her eye. She refrained from answering that it was no loss of hers that her husband had died.

“Many thanks,” she said instead. “Shall I bring two pigeon pies?”

“Aye,” Kieran said. “And a room for my brother?”

“Apologies, but the inn is full this eve. Tomorrow a room will become free. I would be pleased to keep that one aside? And can provide an extra bedroll and coverlet for your chamber.”