Chapter 14 #2
“I could say the same to ye,” Fergus shot back. “I wish ye had let me escort ye from the festival.”
“I needed ye to tidy things up there and make sure everybody got home safe. Besides, we were attacked on the road. Ye might have been hurt.”
Fergus folded his arms tightly. “Aye, I heard about the attack. If I’d been there—”
“If ye had been there, ye might have died. And where would I be without me captain?”
Fergus rolled his expressive eyes. He was a fairly ordinary-looking man and set off no flutters in the hearts of the women at the keep. However, his eyes often received stares.
He had one brown eye, nut-brown, and the other was a cloudy bluish-green. He’d said once that his vision was exactly the same in both eyes. Some people claimed that mismatched eyes were bad luck and a sign that a child was a changeling.
Well, if Fergus was a changeling, he was also the best friend Evander had ever had. Had there ever been a time when they weren’t friends? If so, Evander couldn’t remember it.
“She’s back, then. Lady Bryden, I mean,” Fergus commented, leaning back against the door. “That’s good news. And she remembers nothing?”
“Pieces of memory are returning. We only have to be patient,” Evander responded, sinking into the chair behind his desk.
Fergus shook his head. “We cannae afford to waste time. Clues might be fading even now, and there could be another attack. We’re looking at all the villages around Inverness, to begin with. Tell me of yer journey home.”
Evander knew that Fergus wasn’t asking for friendly reasons.
He wanted the details. He wanted a lead.
So, in a few short words, he explained the trip.
The attack, the curious encounter between Annabelle and ‘Lady Moira.’ His friend listened closely, red eyebrows drawn together, lips pressed into a thin line.
“Oh, and that wretched man—Mason—appeared, too,” Evander added, scowling. “I still daenae trust that bastard. He’s too close to her. Investigate him hard. Interrogate him, if ye must.”
Fergus was silent for a moment, pursing his lips. “Are ye sure that…” he trailed off.
Evander lifted his eyebrows. “What? Go on, man. Tell me what ye were going to say.”
Fergus sighed, puffing out his cheeks. “Ye willnae like what I have to say.”
“Come on, man,” Evander scoffed, reaching for a bottle of whiskey sitting at the edge of the desk.
He poured himself a generous measure, then glanced up at Fergus, quirking his eyebrows questioningly. Fergus nodded, and he poured another measure, pushing the second glass toward him. Fergus took it, taking a large gulp.
“I trust ye to tell me the hard truths,” Evander continued, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
“Me faither surrounded himself with fools and toadies. I always said that I would never allow meself to make the same mistake. I need ye to be honest with me, Fergus. I’m no fainting lassie, ye daenae have to worry about sparing me feelings. ”
“Very well,” Fergus responded, setting down his glass with a clack. “Are ye sure that yer hatred of Mason is based on fact?”
Evander pressed his lips together. “Me instincts say…”
“They say what? Because me fear, me Laird, is that ye are jealous.”
Evander flinched. “Ye accuse me of letting me judgment get clouded?”
Fergus shrugged. “I suppose I am.”
Irritation bit at Evander’s insides, chased by a hearty helping of guilt.
Jealous. Am I jealous? If Fergus has seen it, then so have others. Fergus is the only one who dared say it to me face.
“That man has a habit of showing up exactly where Skye is,” he huffed.
“Her guard follows her around? What a surprise,” Fergus responded, deadpan. “Me Laird, I’m nae saying that I willnae investigate thoroughly. But daenae let yer emotions cloud yer judgment.”
“Me emotions? This has nothing to do with emotion. Daenae ye remember what it was like when Skye first arrived? Where she was, he was. We’d walk in the gardens, and there he was, a couple of paces behind.
He would sit next to her at feasts or stand behind her chair like a dog on guard. I could barely speak to her.”
“Ahh,” Fergus murmured. “So ye hate Mason because he ruined yer time with Lady Bryden?”
Evander flinched again. He rose to his feet, resting his fingertips on the desk.
“Careful, lad,” he muttered. “I value yer opinion, but daenae get too comfortable saying what ye think. I’ll nae tolerate insults.”
Fergus swigged back the last of his whiskey. “It interests me that ye think what I said was an insult.”
“Ye ken as well as I do that Skye and I would have led separate lives. She’d talked about going back to her braither’s keep for a visit after our marriage while I stayed here. I’d barely have seen her. And may I remind ye that jealousy requires feeling? I daenae have romantic feelings for her.”
Fergus met his eyes squarely. “I might have believed that before,” he murmured. “Before ye burned down fourteen villages for her.”
Evander plopped back into his seat. “Were there really that many?”
“Aye, but people stopped counting at seven.”
“Fourteen is too many. I stopped at eleven. Nay, twelve. Besides, finding her was a matter of safety. Mine and the clan’s.”
Fergus pursed his lips. “Ye and I both ken that isnae quite true.”
Evander didn’t respond. There was no need to.
He poured two more measures into the empty glasses. When had he emptied his own?
Now that he thought about it, he realized that there was a residual burn in his throat from the liquor, a warmth in his stomach that hadn’t been there before. He made a mental note to drink the next dram more carefully. He made himself sip it.
“I heard about yer wager with her,” Fergus continued. “If ye can call it that. That ye have a month to properly court her or else.”
Evander choked. The whiskey burned his throat, some of it dribbling unattractively out of the corner of his mouth. He angrily wiped away the mess with his sleeve, glad that Skye couldn’t see him now, coughing up whiskey.
“What?” he managed, his voice hoarse. “Fergus, I swear, I am going to throw ye out of the window. How did ye hear about that?”
“Ye ken how gossip spreads in a place like this. So, is it true?”
“I have a month to convince her to stay married to me,” Evander muttered. “I am nae courting her. It’s politics!”
Fergus sniffed. “Well, how else are ye going to convince her to stay without courting her? Ye need her to stay to secure the alliance. How will ye do that? Have ye got any ideas?”
“Nae as of yet,” Evander muttered. “I’ll slaughter her enemies, I suppose. I’ll kill them and send her their heads.”
Fergus sucked his teeth thoughtfully. “A nice gesture. Now, I daenae ken much about women, but I’m fairly sure they prefer flowers or jewelry.”
Evander growled. “Ye had better nae be laughing at me, Fergus. This is nae a courtship, and ye had better nae tell anyone that it is.”
“What do ye take me for?” Fergus laughed.
He swigged down his whiskey in one mouthful—expensive stuff, it was, and Evander wasn’t pleased to see it go down his friend’s gullet without it even being tasted—and set down the glass.
“I daenae make the gossip, me Laird. I just listen to it. Now, I had better go. There’s work to be done. ”
He turned to go, but before he reached the door, Evander spoke.
“Angus’s family. Have they been told?”
Fergus glanced back over his shoulder and nodded slowly. “Aye, they have. His pension will keep them comfortable for the rest of their lives.”
“I cannae imagine that it’s worth it. Nae without him.”
“Nay,” Fergus agreed. “It isnae.”
Evander tapped his fingertips against the desk. “If there’s a war, there’ll be countless deaths like Angus’s. Widows, bereaved parents, orphans, people whose lives have been torn apart by a tragedy nae of their making. We cannae afford war, Fergus.”
“Whoever took Lady Bryden wanted war. They wanted our clan, specifically, to suffer.”
“I think so. We cannae let it happen again. She must be kept safe. We must solve this mystery.”
“Ye can count on me, me Laird,” Fergus responded, inclining his head. “I will investigate. Ye concentrate on keeping Lady Bryden safe. Keep her close, me Laird. Out of all of us, ye are the one who will be able to protect her the best.”
He inclined his head once more into a half bow, then slipped out of the room, leaving Evander alone with his thoughts.
And of course, he thought of her.