Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Later that day, Jeane walked down the long halls of the castle, looking for Lottie. The girl wasn’t supposed to leave her room, but Jeane knew how young people were. Lottie had mentioned that she liked to go to the sunroom, and Jeane couldn’t deny her that. The sunlight was good for her.
And of course, that was where Jeane found her.
“Ye’re nae supposed to be out of bed,” Jeane complained, but there was no real edge to it.
Lottie turned her face up to the open ceiling, letting the sun shine on her face.
“Ye said the sun would be good for me.”
“In small amounts,” Jeane warned. “I wouldnae want ye outside the castle walls.”
Lottie pouted. “Aiden willnae allow me outside the castle, daenae ye worry.”
“Good,” Jeane said and walked closer to the girl.
“Sit down,” Lottie said, patting the chair next to her.
Jeane sat reluctantly. She felt she always had so much to do. Between healing and getting used to her new life in the castle, she felt busy.
And exhausted. As she sat down, the sun shining on her face, Jeane started to feel drowsy.
Lottie chattered about Aiden, but her voice was fading in and out.
“Takin’ a nap, little mouse?”
Fergus’ voice woke Jeane up with a start, and she sat bolt upright.
Fergus stood over her, tall and broad, and Jeane felt slightly intimidated.
She swallowed hard, standing up. “I’m sorry, Me Laird—”
“What are ye sorry for? Ye’re allowed to take a nap in the sunroom,” Fergus said easily.
Jeane stared at him. He was so hot and cold. Sometimes he was cold, distant, and others, he was almost… merry.
She noted that he didn’t step inside the sunroom, choosing to stand in the shadows.
“Daenae ye like the sunlight?” Jeane asked curiously, taking a few steps toward him.
“It isnae that I daenae like it,” he hedged and ducked his head.
Jeane frowned. “Then what is it?”
Fergus let out a long breath. “It’s just that… me face isnae one that ye’d like to see in full sunlight.”
His scars. He was insecure about them. Jeane was shocked. Fergus didn’t seem afraid of anything, but there was fear radiating off him now.
She took his hands in hers, and his enveloped hers entirely. He didn’t pull away, just looked at her intently, as if he could see through to her very soul.
“Daenae…” he started, but Jeane pulled him into the light. The scars on his face were more pronounced in the sunlight, but so was the gold in his brown eyes and the dimple in his cheek that Jeane thought she would never see in a smile.
He was handsome, so handsome that it made Jeane’s chest seize up.
Fergus cleared his throat, pulling away from her.
“I hope ye’re nae shirkin’ yer responsibilities,” he muttered, and then he was gone, striding down the hallway and out the back door.
Jeane watched him, contradictory thoughts swirling through her head.
He acts cold and uninterested most of the time, but those times that he doesn’t… that he seems like himself…
That was a man that Jeane could see herself falling in love with.
But which man was he, really?
Fergus felt the fresh air on his face, and it seemed to help the galloping of his heart. Jeane had pulled him into the light, looked at him as if he were a man, not a monster.
Her eyes hadn’t focused on his scars but his eyes, his jawline. It was like being seen for the first time all over again. He hated the feeling—vulnerable, scared.
Because he wanted Jeane to look at him like a woman looks at a man. Not the way a woman looked at a monster. But he’d never thought it would happen and certainly not so soon.
Did Jeane see through his scars, his gruff exterior, and see the man beneath? The man he’d been before the attack?
Fergus didn’t know if that man even existed anymore.
He cleared his throat, walking back inside and to the great hall where Aiden was eating supper.
A few other clansmen were scattered around, but no one that Fergus couldn’t talk freely in front of.
He sat down at the head of the table, and Aileen set a heaping plate in front of him.
“Make sure ye eat heartily, Me Laird,” Aileen said in a sweet voice, but Fergus knew she was serious.
Aileen had practically raised him after the fire, and Fergus listened to her more than his councilmen.
She disappeared into the kitchen again, and Fergus dug in, eating the rabbit and potatoes that Aileen had prepared with vigor.
It’d been too long since he’d taken a meal. His stomach protested, but he ate anyway, knowing he’d need his strength. After all, the castle wasn’t protected from the Leary clan— not yet.
“Tell me what happened, Me Laird.”
“I told ye. One of Leary’s men attacked me. I killed him, but he was on the castle grounds. In me forest, Aiden. Somethin’ has to be done.”
“Aye,” Aiden agreed. “We’ll talk to the council about guards.”
Fergus nodded. He retired to his study after dinner, drinking a single cup of mead to wet his tongue. He would likely be doing a lot of talking in the council meeting.
He didn’t exactly revel in telling the story, admitting that he hadn’t eradicated every last soul who followed the man who had killed his parents.
Fergus stepped into the council room at midnight and looked around at all his advisors. He sat at the head of the large table. At his right sat Harris Craig, in his sixties, one of his father’s most trusted advisors. He sat with his hands folded, his salt-and pepper hair slicked back from his face.
Next to Harris was Finlay Doyle, and Fergus had no idea how old he was, but he was at least twenty years older than Harris.
Fergus thought he might be the oldest man alive, but he was sharp as a tack.
His grizzled hands were folded in his lap, and you’d think he was asleep, but Fergus knew he was listening.
Finally, Aiden sat next to Finlay, and the council meeting could begin.
“I’ve heard tale that ye were attacked,” Harris said, and Fergus nodded.
“Aye.”
Finlay sat up straight. “Attacked by whom?”
“One of the Leary clan,” Aiden commented.
“On the castle grounds?” Harris asked incredulously.
“Aye. I daenae ken where the weak spot is, but we must find it,” Fergus ordered.
“We want guards posted at the edges of the woods. He came through the forest, got close enough to injure the Laird,” Aiden said firmly.
Harris, usually against any kind of violence, sighed heavily.
“If we must. Protectin’ the castle and the Laird must take priority.”
“I thought the Leary clan was wiped out,” Finlay said, his voice trembling with age, not fear.
“I thought so, too,” Fergus said flatly. “But I suppose I must have missed a few. Perhaps he was the last one.”
“Doubtful,” Finlay mused.
“Then we’ll post guards along the forest and also at the back gate. We cannae allow them to get that close again,” Harris said, surprising Fergus.
He’d expected him to put up more of a fight about the guards, but Harris was determined to protect the castle.
“I’ll order the guards tonight,” Fergus suggested. He wanted to pick the men himself, pick out the brightest and strongest of them to protect the castle and those who dwelled there.
“Aye,” Finlay said. “I agree. But what will we do if we do catch one of the Leary clan? Should they be killed on sight?”
Fergus shook his head. “Nay. I want to ken who’s headin’ the clan since I ken it cannae be Leary. I want them captured and thrown in the dungeon. I’ll make the guards aware of that.”
Finlay nodded. “Then it’s settled.”
The rest of the meeting was indeed everything that bored Fergus to tears—the state of their vegetables and livestock, how much gold they had stored, what taxes they would take from the clan.
Fergus managed to get through it without falling asleep although it was a near thing.
He exited the council room immediately after Finlay called the meeting over, striding to the quarters where his trained soldiers lived.
Fergus let out a shout, and then his men lined up, knowing the drill. They lined up straight, shoulder to shoulder, some of them with bags under their eyes but not a single complaint among them.
“I need yer help, lads,” Fergus started, and the soldiers stared at him, waiting for instruction. “One of the Leary clan got onto the castle grounds today through the forest. I’m stationing twenty of you around the castle, at the edge of the woods, to intercept them.”
“Aye,” the yelled in unison, and Fergus felt his chest swell with pride. He’d trained them well.
Fergus picked out each man himself, exhaustion settling over him like a shroud. He fought it off, knowing that he needed to finish this.
“Should they be killed, Me Laird?” Gordon Duffy, one of Fergus’ strongest men, asked.
“Nay,” Fergus answered quickly. “They’re just to be captured. I want them interrogated. I want to do it myself.”
Gordon nodded.
Fergus sent the twenty men off with another twenty to relieve them in a few hours. They would be constantly vigilant, so they needed to work in shifts.
He knew that all that was left was to wait, but he couldn’t help being impatient. He wanted to stalk through the woods, find the remnants of the Leary clan, and wipe them all out.
They’d taken everything from him.
But he couldn’t. He knew that he needed to let his men do their jobs.
And they would do it well. He knew it.
The smell of bacon frying filled Jeane’s nostrils, making her mouth practically water. She knew she was gaining weight eating every meal that Aileen prepared, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
Back at the McKay castle, she was only allotted one meal a day, and it was usually dried meat and perhaps some undercooked potatoes. Their cook serviced Bennet and Bennet alone. Jeane just got the leftovers.
Her father always called her fat, told her she was lazy, but Jeane was just born with wide hips. There was no diet she could go on to make them smaller. Her curvy frame annoyed her father to no end. He told her she’d never get a husband.
But Jeane had thought if a man was worried about her figure and her figure alone, he’d be no husband at all. Besides, the few times she’d met Lord Fraser, whom her father wanted to marry her off to, he’d stared lustfully at her frame.
Now, her hips were widening further, almost in rebellion to what her father had always wanted.
She sat down next to Lottie. “Have ye seen yer brother?”
“Nay, nae recently,” Lottie said.
A week had gone by, and Jeane’s treatments seemed to be helping. Instead of taking her meals in bed, Lottie was able to come to the great hall to eat.
Jeane frowned, wondering where Fergus was. She hoped that he wasn’t doing something vigorous that might rip his stitches again.
Why did she fret about him so? Her kidnapper? She couldn’t wish him ill, no matter how annoyed she got at him. There was just something about him… Something deep, forgotten. Something she wanted to bring out in him.
“Did ye need somethin’ from him?” Lottie asked curiously.
Jeane blinked. “Nay. Was just wonderin’.”
“Interestin’,” Lottie said dryly, and Jeane frowned.
“Daenae ye start to gossip, now,” Jeane warned, and Lottie giggled.
“I wouldnae dream of it, Liliana.”
It was still strange to hear the name, but Jeane was getting used to it. She had barely seen Fergus all week, and she wondered what he’d been up to.
She knew they’d increased the guards around the forest’s edge. Every time she went out for a walk in the gardens, she saw Fergus’ men posted up there.
She supposed he was busy with the new security.
Jeane ate heartily and noted that Lottie managed at least half her plate.
She smiled at the lass. “Ye’re eatin’ well.”
“Aye,” Lottie said proudly. “Aiden brings me sweets, and I eat all of those, too.”
Jeane was jealous that Lottie could eat so much and still remain stick thin. If Jeane so much as looked at a sweet, she’d gain five pounds.
Not that she’d had much access to sweets in her life. Her strict diet didn’t allow for sugar.
Her father had trained her to get a husband, nothing more. To be a housewife, to sit idly by and let her husband take care of everything.
That wasn’t the kind of woman Jeane was. It wasn’t the kind of woman she wanted to be.
“Ye’re a lucky lass,” Jeane said, giving Lottie a bright smile. It wasn’t the girl’s fault that Jeane had suffered so much. She was a bright, sweet girl, and Jeane had become fast friends with her.
Jeane had also befriended Mary, the maid who had helped her when she first arrived. Mary had all the gossip of the castle and told Jeane all about Lottie and Aiden’s little love story.
She didn’t say much about Fergus, though, only saying that after his accident, he was a changed man. She didn’t say if he was changed for the better or not.
Fergus finally entered the great hall, and Jeane noticed immediately that he didn’t look well. He was pale and had bags under his eyes.
Jeane’s healing nature couldn’t just sit there. She rushed to his side, looking up into his face.
Fergus looked down at her, a bemused expression on his face.
“What are ye lookin’ at, little mouse?”
“Ye’re sick,” Jeane fussed, ushering him to the head of the table to sit down. Fergus followed easily enough, letting her guide him.
“I’m nae sick. I’m just tired,” Fergus assured her.
“We had a late meetin’,” Aiden piped up, and Jeane hadn’t even noticed him walking in.
Lottie clearly had, though, looking up at Aiden with the brightest smile Jeane had seen on her.
“Ye havenae slept,” Jeane scolded.
“Nay,” Fergus said, clearly enjoying the attention. “Are ye goin’ to heal me from that, lass?”
Jeane huffed out a breath. “After ye eat, it’s straight to bed with ye.”
Lottie and Aiden both stared at Jeane, as if surprised she was giving orders to the Laird.
Fergus, still looking bemused, just nodded.
Jeane sat down with all the eyes at the table on her.
She didn’t care. Fergus was her patient just like Lottie was after all.
And Jeane did her job well, laird or no laird.