Chapter Thirty-Five
A multitude of worries pummeled Alan’s mind as the morning grew stronger around them, the angry red that lit the bellies of the clouds fading to pink and then lurid-gray.
Worry for his father and those others at home, should Evan return while he was gone.
Regret that he had brought Annista with him, thereby exposing her to danger.
Uncertainty over what might happen if he failed to find his brother. Or if he did.
Annista felt tense, cuddled against his body in the saddle, so close her back pressed into his chest. Should he have insisted she stay back at the manor? But surely she was as safe here with him as she would be there, should Evan slip into the building and perhaps up to her chamber.
Evan knew all the ways in, knew every corridor and stairway.
By any road, he wanted her with him, he did—for better or worse.
She spoke hesitantly as the sky began to clear above them, the stubborn rain clouds moving out at last.
“How far d’ye think Evan could get on foot?”
“Far,” he answered without thinking. “He has a prodigious strength, always did.”
“D’ye think once he tramps far and gets wet enough, hungry enough, he will turn for home?”
“I do no’ ken. He has his deeds at Duncan’s behind him now. On the other hand, he has always returned home before. Eventually.”
The true question was, what would happen if Evan did return home? Would it be like every other time in the past, when Father had welcomed him, if not with open arms but with an acknowledgement that yes, this was his son and heir?
Had anything changed?
Well, if he were honest, some things had. Father had introduced him to the earls. Granted, it had been in Evan’s absence, but still it held some significance.
And—he had Annista now.
His arms tightened around her involuntarily. Annista—well, she made up for quite a few things. The slights of the past, the repeated instances of disregard. Evan’s unstinting cruelties. He had Annista in his life and in his bed, which compensated for an untold number of things.
What if he had refused to wed her, and missed out on it all?
“Wha’ is it?” She turned her head to peer into his face, her eyes clear in the morning light. “Wha’ is amiss?”
“Naught.” Since her lips were right there and available to him, he kissed her quick and fierce.
She gasped. “Wha’ was that for?”
Just because ye are there. And because—well, I believe that I love ye.
But he did not say that. Afraid she might laugh or scoff or—
“Just for courage,” he said instead.
****
The hedgerows dripped with wet and the birds soared into the sky at their approach. The hilltops lay capped in mist even after the clouds pulled away, and the air remained chill.
Alan raked his mind for hiding places that might not have been searched yet, or should be checked again. When they arrived at the first of these, a ruined cottage, he halted Chieftain at the rusted gate and bade Annista wait with their mount.
“Nay,” she replied as he should have expected she would, and slid from the back of the tall, patient horse.
“Then stay behind me. Just in case—”
She did, once more clutching the back of his cotte. As soon as they went up the path, Alan knew Evan would not be inside—the roof of the place had fallen in. He let out a great whoosh of breath.
“There—" Annista said and indicated a small shed behind the cottage, overgrown by trees. The door hung crookedly but stood shut.
Alan did not like the look of the place. It felt—well, the word sinister came to mind.
“Stay here,” he instructed Annista once more. “Please. Let me check inside.”
“But—”
“Annista, I beg ye.”
To his surprise, she acceded. Alan left her at the corner of the cottage and made his way back.
The bottom of the door scraped the ground when he drew it open. Darkness inside, and as he saw when he peered in, an assortment of cast-off barrels and ancient iron implements.
No vicious, red-haired figure leaping at him.
“Alan?” Annista called.
“’Tis well. He is no’ here.”
“Then come awa’,” she beseeched. “Please come awa’. I do no’ like this place.”
“Nay, nor do I.”
It went that way for most the morning as they moved from spot to spot, one corner of the estate to the other, and Alan began to understand Father’s discomposure when he’d got home.
Annista uttered no complaint, though at length she must be as weary and hungry as he.
At last she said, “Nary a sight o’ him.”
“Nay.”
“The thing is—even if he circles around fro’ place to place, ye’d think we’d catch sight o’ him. Or ha’ word from someone else who has.” For they’d questioned everyone they met. And anyone living upon the estate understood the danger.
He said, “Let us go home.”
Even Chieftain was weary when they turned for the manor. Not till they entered the yard did the sense of wrongness impress itself upon Alan. Despite the midday sunlight pouring in from a now-clear sky, somewhat was very much amiss.
“Master Alan, Master Alan!” One of the stable boys ran up and seized Chieftain’s bridle, his eyes large. “He was here!”
Alan’s heart fell violently. “When?”
“No’ an hour since.”
Billy came limping out from the stable. Alan dismounted and hurried to him.
“Billy, wha’ is this I hear?” His gaze dropped. “Are ye hurt?”
“’Tis naught,” the old man claimed. “Master Evan was here. Lookin’ for—well, to be truthful I canna say. There was a tussle.”
“Wi’ ye?” Alan asked with concern. He had a fondness for the old man.
“Yer father came out to meet him. They argued, and when Master Evan knocked the master down, I got in the middle o’ it. He knocked me down also.”
“My father—”
“Sore hurt, lad. He hit his head when he went down. They ha’ put him in his bed and young Jock has run for the physician.”
“Ah, God!” How bad might it be? Father, for all his years, was a strong man.
“And,” Billy hurried on, “the young master then took Tempest.”
Annista spoke up. “But the horse is no’ fit—”
“I told him so. He did no’ care, took him any road. At least he did no’ try to saddle the poor beast. Went off bareback.”
“Which direction?” Alan asked.
“I did no’ see. But young Tommy, here, ran out the yard and said they went eastward.”
Alan stood, feeling torn. He wanted to set back out immediately, see if he could catch the fugitive. He also wanted to go directly to his father’s side.
“How long ago did ye say this was?” he asked Billy.
“Och, an hour since.”
Evan would have disappeared back into the countryside.
“The horse is no’ fit,” Annista turned to him. “Wha’ shall we do?”
“I maun see my father. Then we will decide.”
****
“How bad is it?” Alan asked his mother who met him at the door of the chamber.
“Son—”
“How fares he?”
“He is awake. Conscious. But—” He saw despair in her eyes.
“Let me see him.”
She stepped aside. Alan hurried to bed, nudging aside the chair where she had no doubt been sitting.
Father lay propped against the cushions. Someone had wrapped his head, but the bolster had turned bright red.
His heart’s blood.
“Father.” Alan’s relationship with this man had been fraught and oft times complicated. But seeing him so brought matters to bedrock. He repeated it. “Father.”
His father focused on him with what appeared to be difficulty. “Alan.”
When the earl reached for his hand, Alan felt a stab of surprise. But he gave his fingers over readily. His father’s grip felt surprisingly strong.
“He was here. Evan.”
“Aye. I heard.”
“He was no’—no’ himself. Even cleared o’ the drink. I think—I think he is gone to the bad.”
Certainly not himself. But then, what was Evan’s true nature?
“Father, they ha’ sent for the physician. Ye will soon grow well.”
But the color of that blood on the bolster frightened Alan badly.
“Aye, but listen, son. If I do no’ recover—”
“Do no’ say that.”
“If I do no’, ye maun promise me.”
Not another promise.
“Ye will guard the estate. Protect it. For this place is our worth and our standing. Guard it against the unrest in the land. And…fro’ yer brother.”
“But, ye will be here to do that.” As he always had done.
Father did not answer. Behind him, Alan heard his mother weeping. A glance showed him Annista stood in the doorway, her face white and stark.
“Promise me,” Father ground out.
“Aye, I will, but only if ye promise me ye will do yer best to hold on for the physician.” Alan had not been raised to govern the estate. And had he not already failed spectacularly in the tasks he’d been set? Had he succeeded in finding Evan earlier, his father never would have tussled with him.
“Son, I canna mak’ that promise.”
“Aye. Aye, ye can. I will ha’ it in return for mine.”
Father squeezed his hand. He said nothing.
“Do yer best to hold on,” Alan said then, as he would in turn.
He left them there together, his mother once more weeping.