Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Duncan was standing by the narrow window of his study, watching the yard below with an attention that was more habit than focus.
The room was familiar with its stone walls lined with shelves of ledgers and maps and a heavy writing table bearing the marks of long use, but his thoughts refused to settle into their usual order.
He had already sent for Iain.
The knock came sooner than expected, and it was firm and unhesitating.
“Enter,” Duncan called out.
The door opened, and Iain MacRae stepped inside without ceremony.
At nine-and-twenty, the captain of the Grant army cut a formidable figure.
He was broad-shouldered and solidly built, and he wore his red hair pulled back from a face that bore the quiet wear of years spent training and fighting.
There was a sternness to his expression that often unsettled those who did not know him well, but Duncan knew better.
Behind that rugged exterior and battle-hardened posture were kind brown eyes that missed very little.
Duncan turned from the window as Iain came fully into the room, a hint of amusement touching his mouth. “Ye’re prompt as ever.”
“Aye,” Iain replied, but his gaze was already sharp. “I thought I’d better be. Are the rumors true?”
Duncan’s brow lifted. “Which ones?”
“That ye arrived this morning with a beautiful young woman seated in front of ye on yer horse,” Iain said flatly. “One who now occupies a chamber close tae yers.”
The amusement faded. Duncan exhaled through his nose. “News travels fast.”
“Faster when it’s interesting,” Iain countered. “And this is interesting.”
Duncan turned away, irritation threading through him. “She’s a healer. I met her on the road. We need one, and she agreed tae come. It’s as simple as that.”
Iain studied him, clearly unconvinced. “That explains the healer. It daesnae explain the rest.”
“There is nay rest,” Duncan scoffed.
“Aye,” Iain replied calmly. “Now, that’s what concerns me.
” He shifted his weight, arms crossing over his broad chest. “I ken that ye tend tae decide things in the spur of the moment. It’s one of yer finer qualities when steel is drawn and blood is spilled.
But this,” he gestured vaguely, “this is beyond even ye.”
Duncan shook his head. “I’m surprised we’re discussing this at all. I did what was best fer the clan. We need a healer.”
“I dinnae dispute that,” Iain said. “I question the manner in which she arrived.”
Duncan met his gaze squarely. “She is capable. That should be enough.”
“How dae ye even ken that?” Iain asked. “Nay… this has tae be something else… have ye finally decided tae take a bride and this is yer way of testing us to see whether we accept her?”
The question landed harder than Duncan expected.
“Nay,” he said at once. “Absolutely nae. Elaina is simply a healer I met on the road.”
“Is she now?” Iain replied with more amusement now. “Because her belongings were moved tae the chamber closest tae yers.”
Duncan scowled. “The healer’s cottage is unusable, as ye yerself ken well.”
“Aye,” Iain said, his grin widening. “An unfortunate circumstance. Leaves ye with very few options. The situation practically forced her into proximity.”
Duncan chuckled despite himself. “I assure ye, I didnae orchestrate the rain or the flooding.”
Iain laughed outright at that. “Pity. That would’ve been impressive.”
The initial tension eased between them, and familiarity settled back into place as easily as old armor.
Iain shook his head, still smiling. “Duncan Grant, ye go on and claim innocence.”
Duncan leaned back against the desk. “I’ve made an art of it.”
“Aye,” Iain agreed. “Ye always manage tae look entirely reasonable while doing something nay one else would dare.”
“That,” Duncan said dryly, “is the privilege of being right.”
Iain scoffed. “Or stubborn.”
“Those two are often mistaken fer one another,” Duncan replied with a smile.
They shared a brief, easy silence, the kind that only came from years of shared ground and shared battles.
Iain nodded once. “Ye ken I trust yer judgment. I always have.”
Duncan met his eyes. “And I trust ye tae tell me when I’m being a fool.”
Iain’s grin returned. “Oh, I will. Enthusiastically.”
His comment made Duncan laugh. Then, he exhaled and straightened, allowing the humor to ease into something more serious.
“Well,” he announced, “that’s enough talk of pretty women and potential mistakes.”
Iain’s expression shifted at once, the levity draining from his face as understanding settled in. “Aye.” He moved closer to the table, resting his hands on its edge. “Then ye’ll want the latest reports.”
Duncan nodded just once.
“There’s been increased movement along the western road,” Iain began. “Nothing overt, just small groups, poorly marked, avoiding the main crossings. Could be traders, could be scouts.”
Duncan’s gaze sharpened. “Go on.”
“A pair of our patrols found disturbed ground near the river two nights past,” Iain added. “Boot prints, hastily covered. Too careful fer bandits and too sloppy fer our own men.”
“And the villages?” Duncan asked.
“Minor trouble,” Iain replied. “A missing sheep here, tools taken there. Annoyances more than threats, but it’s the pattern I dinnae like.”
Duncan nodded slowly. “Testing the edges.”
“Aye. And there are rumors,” Iain added. “Men asking questions in town, mostly about Grant patrol routes and about ye.”
Duncan’s mouth thinned. “Let them ask. Double the night watches. Rotate patrols. And if anyone presses too hard, I want tae ken.”
“It will be done,” Iain said at once.
He did not move away immediately. Instead, he leaned more fully against the table, the last trace of humor fading from his face.
“There is something ye should consider,” he said carefully. “Lachlan MacKenzie.”
The name settled heavily in the room, as if it carried weight of its own.
Duncan’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly against the wood. “I never stopped considering him.”
“Aye,” Iain replied. “Nor have the Council. There have been whispers, naething that can be acted upon yet. But men like MacKenzie dinnae vanish quietly. When things grow too still, it usually means he’s thinking.”
Duncan turned from the table and faced him fully. “But he also kens better than tae strike openly.”
“Fer now,” Iain agreed. “But that is precisely why the Council is pressing harder than ever. Tae them, MacKenzie is a blade hanging by a thread. An alliance, especially through marriage, looks like certainty.”
Duncan scoffed softly, though without bitterness. “I willnae choose a wife as one chooses armor.”
“I ken,” Iain agreed at once. “And fer what it’s worth, I wouldnae either. But the Council sees only outcomes. They remember what MacKenzie did years ago. They remember fire and blood and loss. They fear he will try again, and they fear ye will face him alone.”
Duncan’s gaze drifted back to the window, to the training yard where his men moved through their drills with practiced discipline.
“I am nae alone,” he said quietly.
“Nay,” Iain agreed. “But fear has a way of narrowing vision. Tae them, a marriage alliance is something they can see, something they can measure. It makes their unease easier tae bear.”
Duncan was silent for a long moment, his thoughts moving along familiar, dangerous paths. “They may understand their fear, but they will have tae learn patience.”
Iain studied him, then nodded once. “Then I will make certain they dinnae push too far, too fast. But ye should be prepared. MacKenzie will be used as their argument again and again.”
Duncan turned back to him, feeling his resolve steady and unshaken. “They can discuss whatever they damn well want, but I will decide when there is something worth deciding.”
Iain’s mouth curved proudly. “That is exactly why they follow ye.” He walked over to Duncan and patted him on the shoulder. “Rest now. It is late and ye’ve probably nae slept properly.”
Duncan let out a quiet huff. “Rest is a luxury fer men without responsibilities.”
“Aye,” Iain chuckled. “I remember that speech. Ye gave it at sixteen, right before collapsing in the training yard.”
“That was exhaustion,” Duncan replied. “Entirely different.”
Iain laughed under his breath again. “Being laird has taught ye many things. Chief among them, apparently, is how tae convince yerself ye dinnae need sleep.”
“Someone has tae keep the clan from falling apart while everyone else dreams peacefully,” Duncan said, already turning back toward his writing table.
“And someone has tae remind ye that ye are nae indestructible,” Iain countered. “That’s me particular burden.”
Duncan glanced over his shoulder, and there was a faint smile touching his mouth. “Ye wear it well.”
Iain shook his head, fond exasperation plain on his face. “Very well. Drown yerself in ledgers and maps if ye must. But dinnae forget, nay laird ever protected his people by working himself intae the ground.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Duncan said lightly.
Iain moved toward the door, pausing only once. “I’ll have the watches doubled.”
“I expected naething less.”
With that, Iain left the study. Silence crept back into the chamber, thick and suffocating. There was no one to break the painfully slow turning of his mind. Duncan remained where he was, alone once more with stone walls, flickering candlelight, and far too many things demanding his attention.