Chapter 2
ONE YEAR LATER
“Somethin’ is happenin’,” said Finlay, in that suspicious tone of his, as if River didn’t already know that. “I’m tellin’ ye, me lady...everyone is whisperin’ in corners out there.”
“I ken that,” said River as she gazed out of the window of her drawing room in the eastern wing of the castle.
Just as her husband had promised her one year prior, she had wanted for nothing in their marriage.
She had the entire eastern wing to herself, with its grand rooms dressed with rich tapestries that kept out the draft, decorated with fresh flowers and pretty, shiny things that did nothing to distract her from the important matters at hand: one, she had borne no heirs and doubted she ever would, and two, she was so isolated from everyone else that even now, with the entire castle in upheaval, she had no idea what had caused such a ruckus.
“They could be preparin’ for an attack,” said Finlay, his tall, lithe form appearing next to her by the window. His dark eyes scanned the courtyard below for what River assumed to be signs of preparation, but if he saw any, he didn’t share it with her.
I suppose he wouldnae say anythin’ in front of the bairns.
Arya and Colby rarely ever left her side.
After their mother’s death, River had taken them in and was raising them as their own.
Finlay knew not to say anything that would frighten them more.
He had been that way ever since River herself was a child, ever since he had been appointed her personal guard—and had been just as much of a father to her as the one who gave her life.
“I doubt it,” said River, if only to reassure the children.
Colby rushed to her, his fingers wrapping around the edge of the windowsill as he looked outside.
As always, Arya was right behind him, towering over him with a hand in his dark hair.
“Clan O’Douglas has been peaceful ever since the Laird took over. ”
“Perhaps a feast, then,” said Finlay. “It doesnae have to be a bad thing.”
It could be. I wouldnae ken either way.
Though she was the Lady of the Clan in name, in the year she had been married to the Laird, River hadn’t been involved in the household matters.
There had been feasts. There had been balls.
River had attended them, as was her duty, but she was never once consulted in the choices made.
The head housekeeper, Mrs. Brown, had everything under control, and River had been assured many a time that her assistance wasn’t needed—no matter how much she would have liked to give it.
“Why daenae ye ask them?”
River glanced at Arya, who was looking up at her with a small, confused frown over her green eyes.
In the morning light and with that expression painted on her face, she looked older than her years, and for a brief moment, River’s heart seized.
Arya was already as tall as she was, and she was growing by the day.
As much as River wanted to see her grow, she also dreaded the moment she would become a woman—the moment she wouldn’t need her anymore, the moment she would be thrust into a marriage she might not want, much like she was.
“Ask them?” said River.
“Aye,” said Arya. “Ye’re the Lady of the Clan. Ye can do what ye wish.”
The thought had never once occurred to River. No one talked much to her, other than the three people in the room with her and her personal maid. The eastern wing was her whole world, and whether she was ignored or simply not disturbed, the result was the same—she didn’t often speak to other people.
River glanced at Finlay, only to find him already looking at her. They didn’t need to exchange words to know what the other was thinking. Colby, though, was glancing back and forth between them, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, waiting impatiently to hear her answer.
“Well, I suppose we’ll find out soon enough!” she said as she pulled herself to her full height. “Until then, I think it’s time for ye to capture the dragon!”
Raising her hands and shaping her fingers into claws, River let out a thunderous roar. Within seconds, Colby was rushing to the other side of the room, half-screaming and half-giggling, with Arya on his heels as River chased them both around the room.
“Ach, I suppose I must save the princess!” said Finlay, pushing his auburn hair back off his eyes and his body off the wall where he had been leaning. “But I daenae have me sword. Sir Colby, will ye lend me yers?”
“I daenae need a knight to save me!” said Arya, crossing her hands over her chest indignantly. “I shall fight the dragon meself!”
“A brave lass, indeed!” said Finlay. “If only more knights had yer courage, perhaps we wouldnae lose them to sword and drink!”
“Finlay!” River protested, giving him a sharp look.
But Finlay only tutted at her. “Dragons daenae speak the common tongue, me lady.”
A knock on the door stopped River before she could respond that she, as a dragon, could speak the common tongue just fine, thank you very much.
She straightened just as the door opened without the intruder waiting for an answer from her, and she saw none other than Keir there in all his haughty, windswept glory.
The sudden, sharp, even hateful look that he gave River, though, was certainly a surprise.
Keir had never been fond of her, ever since River had walked into that castle in her soft blue bridal gown, brought to Laird O’Douglas like a lamb to the slaughter.
River had never understood his dislike for her—they had hardly spoken at all, and when they did, she was nothing but polite to him.
But now, standing there by the door as his gaze was trained right on her, what she saw was not mere dislike.
The man despised her.
“Keir,” she said, a small frown appearing on her face. “Is everythin’ alright?”
“Nay,” said Keir. “I suppose it isnae.”
River chanced a glance at Finlay, who was stepping closer to her, as if to put himself between her and Keir. She caught Finlay’s fingers twitching by his thigh, close to where he kept his hidden knife, and River was quick to speak, if only to stop Keir from getting stabbed.
“What can we do for ye?”
“Where were ye Friday night?”
“Friday night?” River asked, her frown deepening. “Five days ago?”
“Aye.”
“Where do ye think she was, ye bampot? The tavern?” asked Finlay, and River watched as Keir had to almost physically restrain himself from approaching the other man.
Finlay had this effect on people—certain people, at least. Most of all, he had that effect on Keir, and it wasn’t helping that he was insulting him, too.
“I was here,” said River, before Finlay could stoke the fires of Keir’s rage even more.
“Anyone who can attest to that?” asked Keir, slowly dragging his gaze back to her.
“I can,” said Finlay.
“I daenae wish to hear from ye.”
“The bairns,” said River. “They were here with me.”
“Is that so?” asked Keir, entirely unconvinced. “Do ye take me for a fool? Do ye think I’ll believe what the bairns have to say?”
“They’re bairns,” said River coldly. Whatever patience she had for Keir’s antics was quickly evaporating, replaced instead by a steady irritation. “Why would they lie?”
“To protect ye,” said Keir. “What were ye doin’ here?”
“I was readin’ to them,” said River flatly.
“Why are ye askin’?” said Finlay, taking a single step closer to Keir. “It seems to me like ye are accusin’ yer lady of somethin’.”
“Aye, so I am,” said Keir without a moment’s hesitation.
“I never leave this wing,” River reminded him. “Ye ken that.”
“Ye never leave this wing as far as we ken,” said Keir.
“Enough!”
Finlay’s voice was a roar, echoing off the walls. River glanced at him to find his face reddened to the same hue as his hair, his eyes wide and almost popping out of his skull with rage. Next to her, Colby approached and clutched at her skirts, clinging to her.
“Ye accuse yer lady of somethin’ we daenae even ken,” said Finlay. “Do ye take us for fools? Tell us what happened and then...only then, we may answer any other questions ye have.”
“Ye’re in nae position to make demands,” said Keir. “In fact, if I were ye, I would shut me mouth.”
It was the wrong thing to say, and River took a step forward as if to place herself between them, but then Colby’s insistent hands reminded her that she was dragging him along, too. It was one thing to put herself in the middle of whatever this was, but she couldn’t drag the children into it.
“How about I shut yer mouth for ye?” Finlay asked. “May I remind ye how much ye and yer Laird have made the Lady O’Douglas suffer? May I remind ye everythin’ ye have done to her?”
“It wasnae me Laird who killed her maither,” Keir spat, and a piercing pain shot through River’s chest. Even now, the memory of her mother’s death filled her with conflicting feelings.
There was grief, yes, but there was also bitterness for the woman who had harmed so many innocents—going so far as to kill Arya’s and Colby’s mother.
River was tired of revenge. That was her mother’s game.
She was the one who had tried to kill her father’s mistresses and illegitimate offspring, of whom there were many.
And all River could do was take these two children, who suffered just because they were born to the wrong man, and care for them as best she could now that they were orphaned.
At the mention of his mother, Colby began to sniffle, the sound soon turning into a sob. Arya was by his side within moments, and River gathered them both in her arms, shushing them quietly.
But then, she turned her gaze to Finlay.
“Get out,” she barked, some of her mother’s sharpness bleeding out of her. “Daenae make me say it again.”
“I’m nae goin’ anywhere before I speak to yer entourage.”
“I wasnae askin’.”
Finlay stared at her silently for a few long dragging moments. Then he turned to the door.
“I will be waitin’ outside,” he said. “I expect the bairns to be available soon for questionin’. Mr. Kirk...follow me.”
Finlay grumbled something intelligible under his breath, then with a final look at River, followed Keir out of the room.
“Are ye alright?” River asked as she fell to her knees next to Colby. She brushed his dark hair out of his eyes to find them filled with tears, but he nodded softly.
“Are ye?” he asked, and River’s heart melted just a little more.
“I’m fine,” she assured them both. “Ye daenae have to speak to Mr. Morrison if ye daenae want to. He has nae right to demand it.”
“We will speak to him if it means he leaves ye alone,” said Arya. Her brows were pulled into a frown, her arms crossed over her chest, anger seeping through her. “I daenae understand...what does he want? Why is he accusin’ ye? Ye havenae done anythin’ wrong!”
With a soft sigh, River pulled Arya closer to her, and the girl wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “It’s naethin’, I’m sure,” she said, but deep in her core, she knew that to be false.
Somethin’ must have happened to the Laird. They think I did it.
Is he...is he dead?
A knock on the door startled River, and the door opened to reveal Finlay once more.
“Me lady...let the bairns come for a wee bit,” he said. “I shall care for them, I promise ye.”
“What happened, Finlay?” asked River.
“Ye’ll ken when it’s time,” said Keir from the corridor.
With a frustrated huff, River glanced at Finlay, but he only gave her a reassuring nod. Then, she ushered the children to the door, reluctantly letting go of their shoulders when they reached the men.
“I’ll tell ye everythin’...later,” Finlay promised.
With that, they were all gone, and River was left alone to stew in her anger and her fear. The same thoughts kept circling in her head—what if the Laird truly was dead? What if they thought she had killed him? But surely, they couldn’t prove such a thing, simply because she hadn’t done it.
The minutes passed, then an hour. River paced back and forth in front of the hearth, trying to make sense of it all, trying to stop herself from panicking about the children. Finlay was with them; he wouldn’t let anything happen to them.
Besides, for all his flaws, Keir wasn’t a cruel man. He wouldn’t harm the kids.
Just as she was about to wear the floor down to dust, the door was flung open and River turned—only to see Laird O’Douglas there. It was such a strange sight, seeing the man in her chambers, that it gave her pause, and she stopped pacing so suddenly she almost toppled over.
“Me Laird?” she asked, uncertain. “What are ye doin’ here?”
How long has it been since I last saw him? A week? Two?
There was something different about him, but she couldn’t quantify what it was. He looked almost better-rested, though at the same time a little rougher, with his beard longer than he usually kept it. And then there was a strange look in his eyes—a fire she hadn’t seen before.
But it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting answers.
“Will ye tell me what happened now?” she demanded. “Because I daenae appreciate bein’ kept here, in the dark, without any answers from anyone!”
Laird O’Douglas didn’t respond. He only stared at her, and River couldn’t help but feel like he was pulling her apart with his eyes—like he was trying to get to the core of her, to strip everything back.
“What is this?” she asked, now a little more apprehensive. “Why are ye lookin’ at me like this?”
The more she spoke, the more Laird O’Douglas stalked closer and closer to her, approaching her like a predator approaches its prey. She took a few steps back, but her shoulders soon hit the cold stone wall, drawing a gasp out of her.
And then the Laird was right there, his hands a branding iron on her hips as he pulled her to his strong chest—
and kissed her.