Chapter 5 #2
As they crossed through the stubbled remains of harvested barley, a flock of wild geese took flight on the far side of the field. Morrigan eyed the cottage in the distance. She’d been here before. Isabella had more than once seen patients from neighboring villages in this same building.
A tall man stood by a wall that enclosed the cottage yard, talking in a vigorous manner with one of Blair’s fighters.
He wore no hat and his face, though young, bore evidence of hastily stitched battle wounds.
Morrigan’s eye was drawn to the empty sleeve tacked at the side of his coat.
She stared, knowing she shouldn’t. The gnawing sadness she felt was the same that filled her every time she came face-to-face with someone who’d lost an arm, a leg, a part of themselves to war.
Innocent men who’d been duped into fighting for an empire that cared nothing for them.
The stranger came closer as the women approached, and Blair made the introductions.
Sebastian Grant, the younger brother. She felt as if she already knew so much about who he was, just from the information Isabella had given her, but there was more to it.
His face, his build . . . there was a familiarity about him that made her think she’d seen him someplace. But where?
“Have we met before?’ she asked, interrupting whatever was being said.
“I don’t believe we have, Miss Drummond.” Black eyes, dark as coal, sparkled with amusement as they lingered on her bruised cheek. “Your face is one that I could never forget.”
She stared back. His flattery—or his teasing—was wasted on her.
Still convinced that she’d seen him before, Morrigan thought of the busy streets of Edinburgh.
Isabella said the Grants practiced law there.
The house on Infirmary Street was not far from the courts in the old Parliament Hall.
There was a strong possibility she could have encountered him on any number of occasions.
He would have stood out in a crowd. Or maybe at one time or another, he’d been a patient of her father’s.
Many retired military men, including amputees, came to the clinic.
A sound from the cottage made Morrigan shift her gaze to a shadow moving in the doorway.
It materialized as a large man. Wide shoulders blocked the entrance.
No hat, no coat. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing powerful arms. From the fashionable cut of his waistcoat, she guessed this had to be the other brother. The barrister.
Morrigan looked at his face, and she cursed under her breath.
A nightmare. Disaster had come to her door. Panic washed hot and cold down her back. She fought the urge to run; all she wanted was to be miles from here.
“Aidan Grant . . .”
He stepped out. She took an involuntary step back.
Morrigan didn’t hear anything beyond the name.
She paid no attention to the introductions.
He’d be a guest here for the devil knows how long.
A guest of Cinaed. A future ally. A blasted politician.
She was finished. They’d lock her in and bolt the gate.
She had no doubt he recognized her. One look at her and his face hardened. His stance became combative. Morrigan recalled their scuffle. Her forehead ached as she stared at his blackened eye, still swollen partly shut.
More introductions. More talk. A buzzing in Morrigan’s ears muffled the words being spoken. Devil take him. Aidan Grant bowed to Isabella, but his glare never wavered from Morrigan’s face. She’d hedged the truth with Isabella and Maisie, and he would expose her.
His step brought him closer to her. This time, she refused to budge.
He was armed with the truth, and she should surrender ground. But she wouldn’t be routed. She had to hold out, take his assault and then parry.
“Miss Drummond.” He drawled her name. He was taunting her.
“Mr. Grant.”
“You look quite familiar to me.”
“I can’t say the same thing.”
“We have met.”
“Wrong, sir. You brother says we haven’t.”
“Sebastian and I have been known to travel in separate society. We’re not conjoined twins.”
“That’s quite obvious. He’s much taller.”
“And much younger.”
“And less argumentative, apparently.”
“He’s a solicitor. I, a barrister. Hazards of the profession.”
A silence fell over the group, and she realized she was tempting fate. One word from him would expose her. Morrigan’s heart raced as their gazes remained locked. He had one grey eye. The other—he should have worn a patch to cover it—looked hideous. She’d done an exceedingly gratifying job on it.
He finally broke the silence. “If you’re certain our paths have not crossed—”
“I’m certain.” She turned to Isabella, who was looking on with a curious frown.
Morrigan’s thoughts uncontrollably turned to their meeting in Inverness. The brothers had been speaking to Sparrow. But Isabella said these two were representing the Chattans. She guessed there were many people they had to interview for the court case.
All eyes were on her. She squirmed under the pressure.
This wasn’t the end of it. All who stood watching their exchange had to see the tension sparking between them.
There would be more questions. More answers to invent.
But for right now, all she could think was that she needed to get away from Aidan Grant.
Morrigan nodded to Isabella and motioned to the cottage. “I know this is not your only patient today. We should go in.”