Chapter 10
Alex kept both hands on the map table. The parchment lay flat under his palms. Inked marks showed the eastern wall, the inner courtyard, and the stairs at the north tower. It was late morning, and the castle held the kind of quiet a man could use.
The door opened. He did not look up.
“Ye wanted to see me,” Calum said.
“Aye.” Alex tapped the eastern line. “I thought we could go through some of the more recent arrangements of the night guards. Two men here at all hours. A third on the hour till dusk. Any change since the festival?”
“Nay,” Calum said. He stepped close and looked where Alex pointed. “The rotations hold for now, and the inner courtyard is still clean.”
“Good.” Alex shifted to a small circle near the postern. “This corner. I want a lantern there at night. Nae bright, but enough to keep feet right.”
“I told Fergus,” Calum said. “He will see to it.”
Alex nodded once. “Any breach?”
“Nay.”
Silence ensued, but Calum did not fill it.
Alex knew his man-at-arms was the kind who let quiet do half the work. He straightened a little and rubbed his thumb along the table’s edge. However, he could tell from the look on Calum’s face that this was not just mere silence. There was something his man-at-arms wanted to discuss.
“Is there something on yer mind?” he asked.
Calum considered the question and nodded. “Forgive me, me Laird, but do ye think this charade will last?”
Alex looked up. “What do ye mean?”
Calum did not mince his words. “The household is growing used to her. Yer grandmaither, most of all.”
Alex said nothing.
Calum went on. “I heard her in the linen room this morning. She was speaking with Morag and Leah about what Erica might wear on her wedding day. She is making a plan, me Laird, and kenning yer grandmaither, I ken she intends to carry it out.”
Alex’s jaw clenched hard enough to ache. “She is free to plan her own joy,” he said.
Calum gave him a look that said the point had slipped by half. “She is taking this to heart,” he said. “If ye let it run on its own, she will build around it. I wouldnae be surprised if she starts asking for another grandchild.”
Alex’s head snapped up at that. “That is nae possible.” His voice was flat. “We have an arrangement. One month. Protection. Then she leaves. We let the noise die down. That is all.”
“I ken that,” Calum said. “And ye ken that.”
“I am happy we were able to clear that up,” Alex grumbled.
Calum picked a breath, then set it down gently. “But yer grandmaither doesnae.”
Alex exhaled slowly. He felt the truth land in a place he had kept guarded. He had counted on time and order and the iron of his own word. He had not counted on a house that loved routine enough to grow a lie into a habit.
“Servants are steady when they can believe something to be true,” Calum said. “They have believed this.”
Alex looked back at the map and saw none of it. “They can call it what they like,” he said. “We hold the line.”
“Aye,” Calum said. “Then show them where it is.”
Alex’s eyes flicked to him. “I daenae run me house by spectacle.”
“Nay,” Calum said. “But folks need a sign. If ye keep yer distance, they’ll read doubt. They daenae read caution. They think the tie is weak. Ye need to make yer position clear. They need a sign.”
Alex bristled. The words worked against his pride. He did not like being managed by what others chose to see. He had built this place on plain orders and quick hands. He did not want to teach a lesson in the Great Hall like a player on a stage.
“It is easy for ye to say. Ye are well aware of the plan?” he asked.
“Aye,” Calum said. “But our allies and enemies arenae. Now isnae the time to slack, me Laird. Especially now that we have the daughter—”
Alex made a sound that might have been a laugh if it had any ease in it. “If ye are about to say what I think, I advise that ye save it.”
Calum cleared his throat and let the silence linger even more between them. “Me apologies, me Laird. But ye ken what I am saying, and ye ken it is true. We need to be careful. We have managed to invite trouble into our home. We cannae fall back and wait for disaster to strike.”
Alex’s mouth tightened. “I get yer point.”
Calum did not move. “I apologize if that came off a bit distasteful. It is just that, after Isabella, I would hate to see ye fall into the same trap again.”
Alex put both hands back on the table, then pressed his palms down to feel the wood and quell the urge to walk. The name had burned something very deep inside of him, but now wasn’t the time to complain. Instead, he decided to steer the conversation somewhere else.
“Do ye have anything else? Preferably something on the security front?” he asked.
“Aye,” Calum said. He pointed to the inner courtyard mark on the map before Alex. “I noticed last night that the two lads in this area drag their feet on the late watch. Swap one with one of the guards from the kennels. Henry, preferably. He doesnae love sleep.”
“Done,” Alex said.
Calum did not leave. He watched Alex as a man would a friend walking down a slippery slope. “Again, me Laird, I am only telling ye this because I serve the line,” he said. “If the house thinks the tie is hollow, it will crack at the wrong time.”
“The tie isnae hollow,” Alex said. “It is measured.”
“Aye,” Calum said. “Measure shows when a man puts the right weight on it.”
Alex let out a breath. “Thank ye.”
Calum lowered his head. The words were a dismissal and trust. He turned to the door.
“Calum,” Alex called.
Calum looked back.
“If ye hear more noise,” Alex said, “bring it to me, nae to the hall or the council. Nae even Grandmamma.”
“Aye,” Calum said. “I will.”
He left, the door closing quietly behind him.
Alex stayed with the map and looked at the eastern line.
He then looked at the small circle by the edge of the castle gates.
He did not see either. Instead, all he could see was his grandmother’s hands on a folded cloth, measuring with her eyes, telling a maid to fetch the dressmaker so they could begin to discuss what Erica’s wedding dress would look like.
He saw Bettie and Katie hanging on Erica’s sleeve and forgetting to mind their cups. He saw Fergus loosening by a notch when Erica asked him about stores like she meant to shoulder the count, not charm it.
He reached for a marker and set it by the north stairs on the map. Dissatisfied, he moved it with two fingers, then put it back. Calum’s warning sat on the table with the map. He needed to make his position known, not just to the house but to their allies.
How in God’s name did he never think of that in the first place?
The map sat still under his hands, but the marks would not settle. He left the study and took the short stairs to the solar on the top floor.
Afternoon light filtered in through the windows facing the garden. Grandmamma sat near one of the windows, with her cane resting against her chair. Erica stood a little to the side, hands folded, listening like a guest who meant to learn before she spoke.
“She’s shy,” Grandmamma said, light as steam.
Erica offered a small smile. “Forgive me. I am still learning the rhythm.”
“Nothing to apologize for, me dear,” Grandmamma said at once. “It only means ye’re a fine match for him.”
She glanced at Alex with pointed fondness. “He needs a voice of reason now and then. Pull him down when he gets carried away on one of his power trips.”
“I daenae get drunk on power,” Alex said.
Grandmamma tilted her head. “Last autumn. The dyke by the south field. Ye swore it would hold through the rain. Ye wouldnae hear the mason who told ye the clay would turn to soup.”
“It held,” Alex insisted.
“It broke on the third night,” she corrected. “And ye stood in water to yer knees, shouting at the sky as if Mother Nature betrayed ye.”
“That was because it did. The rain has never arrived that early in the past seasons. I believe the act was meant to punish me,” Alex said.
“It had been months, and ye still wouldnae take accountability,” she said. “Ye are some man, are ye nae?”
“I take accountability when it’s there to take,” he said. “That one wasnae me fault.”
“Aye. It was the sky’s fault for letting the rain fall. I believe ye made that point very clear,” she said.
Erica bit the inside of her cheek, and her eyes flicked between them. She said nothing, but the look in her eyes was enough to let Alex know that his back and forth with Grandmamma was nothing but entertainment for her.
Grandmamma pressed on. “Fine. Let us forget about what happened last autumn. What about the lime situation?” she asked.
Alex frowned. “What lime situation?”
He knew what she was referring to. He wouldn’t give her the courtesy of responding immediately.
“Ye wouldnae let Fergus buy it when the north tower needed skimming because ye decided the old mortar would do if a man with strong arms pounded it long enough.”
“The old mortar did do,” Alex said.
“After ye bought the lime,” she pointed out.
“I changed me mind,” he said.
“Right. It has absolutely nothing to do with the three men coughing dust,” she said.
“That was their fault,” he argued. “They didnae wet the stone.”
Grandmamma turned to Erica. “Do ye hear him? He will argue the moon down to the river and then claim victory when the tide comes back.”
Erica laughed.
The sound was soft and clean. Alex turned to it before he meant to.
For a moment, the room faded away. Only that sound remained, the surprise of it, and the sharp knowledge that he had not heard anything like it in years. He probably would have asked her to laugh again if Grandmamma hadn’t cleared her throat.
The sound snapped his thoughts back into shape.
“We should host a feast,” she said briskly. “Settle nerves and quiet whatever rumors are out there.”
“Nay,” Alex said too quickly.
She did not blink. “Then a wedding. Or a betrothal ceremony before the wedding. The point is, the castle needs an event.”
The word landed solid, and Alex felt his throat go dry. She had decided it and set it down like stone.