Chapter 9
9
T he lass was a pest.
In a single day, Ceana had managed to worm her way so far under his skin that there was almost no hope of extricating her. Despite the bargain that he felt strongly about, Neil knew that it was going to take no small amount of effort to keep from inviting himself into her bedroom again tonight.
It was his right, after all, as her husband. Duties and privileges that she had agreed to before they had wed. But then things had changed and shifted between them. Somehow, instead of being the one who drove her to the brink of insanity in bed, she was the one making him feel crazed. Never before had a lass irritated him so much nor been half as tempting as Ceana.
That was how he found himself at the village pub, even though he knew that her family’s whiskey couldn’t do anything to keep his mind off her. At least the whiskey itself would help dampen his desire.
Or so he hoped.
Arthur had been pestering him for information and details about his wedding night the entire ride down to the pub. He was still pressing him for details as if he had been alone last night and was in need of warm memories. But Neil was never one to spread such stories, least of all about his wife.
“I dinnae ken why ye wouldnae want to rehash it… unless ye have something to be embarrassed about?” Arthur prodded.
“We didnae come here to gossip about bedroom sport, Arthur. We are here to look for information.”
Arthur sighed as if he were being deprived of his next meal. “And I dinnae ken when ye stopped bein’ fun.”
Neil side-eyed him. He didn’t even want to ask what it was that his friend meant because he was sure it wasn’t anything good. If Arthur was too hard up to have his own memories to dwell on, that was his problem.
Arthur grinned and leaned annoyingly close to him. “If ye could just pull the stick that’s lodged itself in yer arse, perhaps?—”
“Ye better nae finish that sentence,” Neil warned.
Arthur waved his hand dismissively but then dropped the subject. “Fine. How do ye ken that Blaine even wants to be found?”
Because Blaine clearly couldn’t make such a choice on his own. Whatever reason he had to run off in the middle of the night like some bandit, Neil was going to find out one way or another. If he had to drag his brother back here kicking and screaming in order to get some answers, he would do that too.
And if Blaine had gotten himself into some sort of trouble…
No, that wasn’t something Neil was willing to consider. It was safer to allow himself to stew in his anger instead of letting his worry for his brother fester and overwhelm him. He needed to keep a clear head, and fretting over possibilities wasn’t going to help him in the slightest.
As soon as he marched into the pub, the familiar music and smells wrapped around him. The other patrons in the pub turned to look at the pair of them and nodded their heads in respect as they moved to one of the tables in the back corner, where Neil’s informant was waiting for them. Arthur veered left to get each of them a pint.
There was only one body Neil was interested in seeing tonight.
He dropped heavily onto a chair, the wood creaking under his bulk as he shook the hand of the man across from him.
Alastair was a good enough man, but he operated under his own moral code. He was allowed on MacTristan lands because Neil gave his permission. They had a mutual understanding, in a way.
Alastair had a thinner and shorter frame, but he was fast. Neil believed that it was the man’s average features, dark hair, and bushy eyebrows that made people overlook him. All sorts of conversations took place in front of him without the speakers ever truly knowing that they were being overheard. How? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. It suited him just fine so long as the pair of them stayed on the same side.
“M’Laird.” Alastair nodded his head in deference, and Neil did the same in greeting.
“I thought I might find ye here,” Neil started. “Ye ken there’s a room for ye at the castle if ye ever need it.”
“Aye.” Alastair grinned. “Ye ken that I prefer sleepin’ outdoors. Dinnae care much for walls around me.”
He gestured to the walls of the pub with a shrug, hoping that Neil would just understand.
To some extent, Neil did. He never could turn off his battle mind, always looking for the exits and the parts of the room that were the most vulnerable should something happen out of the blue.
But he understood the preference of not wanting to feel trapped, confined. He did not doubt that Alastair had been behind bars at least a few times. But he would never ask him about that.
“To get straight to business,” Alastair started. “I dinnae ken where he is. I havenae heard anything.”
That wasn’t at all what Neil wanted to hear. “That cannae be possible.”
“But it is, I’m afraid,” Alastair sighed, leaning back into his chair. “I’ve kept me ear to the ground—and will keep doin’ it, of course. I ken that ye’re worried that he hasnae sent a letter yet…”
Neil rubbed a hand down his face and heaved a sigh. “Apparently, he did.”
Why did Ceana receive a letter and he didn’t? He didn’t like it at all. She reacted as if he had no idea what he was talking about. Maybe he should have read the letter instead of jumping to conclusions, but at the same time, whatever was in it hadn’t been meant for him and would have most likely sent him into a fit of rage.
If they were lovers, then she shouldn’t have lied to him. She had said that they would have a white marriage—loveless and convenient. So, what reason did Blaine have to run? It didn’t make any sense at all.
But then again, Neil had never seen Blaine take a lover after he had turned eighteen.
“Och?” Alastair murmured.
“But he didnae send it to me. He sent it to me wife, might I add,” Neil grunted.
He tried to hide the bitterness in his voice when Arthur joined them at the table, setting down pints of ale in front of each of them as well as smaller glasses of whiskey that he had been precariously balancing on his arm the whole walk from the bar to their table.
“Are ye sure that yer braither wishes to be found?” Alastair asked, accepting his glass of whiskey and lifting it in a toast. Neil mimicked the gesture, but his irritation flared nonetheless.
He was getting really sick and tired of that question.
“I dinnae care what he wishes. He needs to give me answers, and I didnae give him permission to leave me lands in the first place,” he seethed. “Me wife insists that they are only friends, and she doesnae ken where he went either.”
He stopped there. The natural conclusion to his thoughts was that there were a lot of things that his first wife had said to him as well that proved to be utterly false. He did not bring Jessica up very often, as thinking about her tended to only dredge up bad memories.
Arthur was the one who spoke up next. It was not surprising that he knew what Neil was thinking without having to say it out loud.
“This is a new beginning, M’Laird.” He took a long sip of his ale before continuing. “Ye shouldnae let yer past interfere, nor should ye compare Ceana to yer first wife.”
He had a point. It was rare enough for Arthur to speak so sagely, but it didn’t help ease the doubts that had taken root in Neil’s mind.
Ceana did seem honest. She hadn’t seemed like she had any reason to lie or twist the truth. But what did Neil know? He had been wrong before.
“Either way,” Neil continued, steering the conversation back to the main issue, “I need to find me braither. He cannae be left out there, unattended and alone, after he embarrassed our family. He’s committed an offense, and he needs to pay for it.”
It would be the same punishment regardless of who had besmirched their family name in such a way. But Neil was more adamant than usual because he was Laird and his brother’s transgressions reflected badly on him.
“Well then, I’ll keep a sharp ear out for any news. If he’s on this side of the Highlands, then I’ll hear about it sooner rather than later, ye ken?” Alastair said flatly.
But Neil knew him well enough to know that he was trying to comfort him.
“I’ll ensure that ye’re compensa?—”
“That’s nae why I’m doin’ this. I consider ye a friend. I havenae forgotten the things ye have done for me over the years, M’Laird,” Alastair insisted.
That suited Neil just fine, but he wasn’t going to allow the man to work without adequate compensation either. It was a job that he was doing for him, and no matter how personal the nature of the task might be, he didn’t want him to do it for free.
“We’ll find him. It’s only a matter of time.”
He liked to think that he knew his brother well. Or rather, he had thought that he knew his brother well. Leaving the castle was one thing. Deserting his post was another. And then the combination of the two out of nowhere? Because he didn’t want to get married?
Something else must have happened. There was something Neil was missing here, and he needed to figure out what it was.
He downed his whiskey and moved on to his ale, a sour feeling settling in his gut. The thought that his wife and his brother might have been involved with one another on a carnal level unsettled him.
He didn’t want Ceana to think about anyone other than him. He wanted to be the only man on her mind and the only one in her bed. It was shocking to him how much he wanted his wife to be his and his alone. That way, by the time Blaine was found and dragged back to the castle to make amends, there wouldn’t be any doubts as to whom she belonged.
Neil took another sip as Alastair and Arthur started to discuss various other avenues and informants, places that they hadn’t yet looked and when their scouts were due to return from combing the forest.
It was easy to convince himself that he only desired Ceana so strongly because he knew in his bones that she would give him a strong, powerful heir. He could focus on their rules and operate within them until she couldn’t stand it. She was supposed to be a means to an end, nothing more. He just… needed to remember that.