Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Elaina watched the doorway for a moment longer than she intended. Then she turned back toward the table, a small smile still lingering at the corners of her mouth.
“It is nice,” she said gently.
Catriona looked up from the book she had opened, her finger still marking a page.
“What is?”
“The way ye and yer braither speak tae one another.” Elaina nodded as she began carefully sorting the crushed mixture from the mortar into a small glass jar. “It is obvious how close ye are, and how much ye care fer each other.”
Catriona leaned back slightly, and the wooden chair creaked beneath her as she considered the remark.
“Well,” she said after a moment of deep thought, “we have only ever had each other.”
Elaina glanced at her. Catriona gave a small shrug.
“Duncan has always been like that,” she continued. “He may look stern and grave most of the time…”
Elaina almost laughed at how accurate that description was.
“… but he is very protective of those he loves.”
Elaina placed the jar on the table and wiped her hands on a cloth.
“As he should be.”
There was no hesitation in her voice. Catriona watched her thoughtfully. For a moment she said nothing, then she tilted her head slightly.
“That is true,” she agreed slowly.
Her gaze drifted toward the door, her expression turning briefly thoughtful.
Then her eyes returned to Elaina. “But…”
The word hung lightly in the air. Elaina glanced up.
“But?” she asked.
Catriona studied her with open curiosity now, though there was nothing unkind in it.
“But I see that he is different with ye.”
Elaina stilled. The cloth paused halfway through wiping her hands. Catriona leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table.
“Has something happened?”
Elaina hesitated. It was not a question she had expected. And it was not an easy one to answer. Her thoughts flickered briefly back to the loch that morning, to the cold water, to Duncan’s laughter and the way his gaze had followed her as she had swum away.
Her heart gave a small, traitorous flutter at the memory. She forced it down immediately. It would not do to dwell on such things. Elaina turned her attention back to the herbs before her, carefully separating the leaves with deliberate focus.
Beside her, Catriona had grown quieter. When Elaina glanced up again, she found the younger woman watching her with a thoughtful expression that had lost some of its earlier playfulness.
“Ye ken,” Catriona said after a moment, tapping lightly at the edge of the open book, “me braither has always kept people at a distance.”
Elaina looked at her curiously. Catriona shrugged slightly, though there was a hint of fondness in her smile.
“He has responsibilities,” she continued. “The clan, the land, the castle… it has always been easier fer him tae carry those things if he daesnae let too many people get too close.”
Elaina considered that quietly. It did not surprise her. Duncan Grant had the bearing of a man accustomed to standing alone.
“That must be lonely,” she said softly.
Catriona’s smile turned a little wistful. “I think it is sometimes.”
She rested her chin briefly on her hand before straightening again. “But that is why I am glad ye are here.”
Elaina blinked in surprise. “Me?”
“Aye.”
Catriona gestured toward the table between them, toward the scattered herbs and open books.
“Ye ken how tae speak tae everyone so they feel good in yer company,” Catriona explained. “Fer instance, ye speak tae me as if I am simply another woman in the castle, and nae the laird’s sister.”
Elaina frowned faintly. “Should I speak tae ye differently?”
“Most people dae.”
“How?”
“With caution,” Catriona replied. “Or politeness that feels… careful.”
Elaina shook her head slightly. “That sounds exhausting.”
Catriona laughed. “It can be.” She leaned forward again. “But ye dinnae dae that. Ye argue and ye correct, even if it is Duncan himself. Ye treat everyone as yer equal.”
Elaina busied her hands with a small bundle of thyme, stripping the leaves slowly from the stem as she considered that.
“I had nae noticed I was daein’ anything unusual.”
“Oh, it is unusual,” Catriona assured her cheerfully. “Most people would never dare speak tae Duncan the way ye dae.”
Elaina smiled faintly. “Well, he daes make it rather easy.”
Catriona’s grin widened. “Aye, he daes have a particular talent fer provoking people.”
“That he daes.” Elaina paused briefly. “He did exactly that in the kitchen last night.”
Catriona’s attention sharpened instantly. “Och?”
Elaina tried very hard to keep her tone calm. “He came in looking fer milk.”
Catriona blinked. “What happened?”
“Well,” Elaina smiled, “let’s just say that nay one got any milk. I told him I was making a tonic but I managed tae burn it.”
Catriona stared at her trying to hide her amusement. “Is that so?” She paused, then evidently wasn’t able to resist asking. “I wonder what me brother did tae make ye lose focus?”
Elaina sighed softly. “It is difficult tae remain focused on the fire when a man insists on standing far too close and questioning everything ye are doing.”
Catriona burst into laughter. “Och, I wish I had seen that.”
“He was nae particularly helpful,” Elaina continued, though there was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “He seemed quite determined to watch every step as though he expected disaster.”
“And he was correct.”
“Aye,” Elaina admitted. “Unfortunately.”
Catriona leaned forward eagerly. “So what happened?”
Elaina kept her eyes firmly on the herbs in her hands.
“Naething very dramatic. The tonic burned, he was insufferably amused, and I told him he was distracting.”
Catriona narrowed her eyes slightly. “That sounds like there is more tae the story.”
“There is nae.”
“None at all?”
Elaina shook her head, deliberately omitting the part where Duncan had stepped close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, close enough that for one startling moment she had forgotten entirely about the tonic on the fire.
Indeed, it was close enough that it had felt very much like they might kiss.
She cleared her throat lightly. “This morning, he dismissed the guard who had been posted outside me chamber.”
Catriona stilled. “He did?”
“Aye.”
The surprise on Catriona’s face was immediate and genuine.
“Well,” she said slowly, “that is interesting.”
Elaina glanced up. “Interesting?”
Catriona nodded, folding her arms as she leaned back in the chair.
“Me braither daes nae grant favors lightly.”
“It was hardly a favor,” Elaina said. “Merely a practical decision.”
“Perhaps.”
Catriona watched her with a thoughtful little smile. “But Duncan rarely changes things without a reason.”
“Ye think it means something?” Elaina frowned faintly.
Catriona shrugged, though the smile remained.
“I think,” she said, “that ye may be affecting him more than he realizes.”
Elaina’s fingers paused briefly over the herbs.
“That seems unlikely.”
Catriona laughed softly. “Perhaps.” Then she added in a tone that was heartwarming and certain. “But I have kent me braither me entire life.”
And judging by the knowing glint in her eyes, she did not believe Elaina’s denial for a moment.
Duncan walked slowly back toward his study; his hands clasped loosely behind his back as he moved through the familiar stone halls of Castle Grant.
Voices drifted from distant rooms and the muted clatter of the kitchens was echoing faintly through the corridors. Somewhere in the courtyard below a pair of soldiers were sparring, their practice blades striking with dull, rhythmic thuds.
Ordinarily, the sounds would have grounded him. But his thoughts lingered stubbornly elsewhere. He shook his head at himself as he reached the door of his study and pushed it open.
Immediately, he knew something was wrong. Iain was standing near the window, clearly waiting for him. Duncan paused just inside the doorway, closing the door behind him with deliberate calm.
Iain was not a man easily unsettled. Years commanding soldiers had given him a steady temperament that rarely wavered. Yet the way he stood now, with his arms folded tightly and his jaw tightly wound, suggested something had disturbed that steadiness.
“Well,” Duncan told him instead of a greeting, crossing the room toward his desk, “that expression daes nae usually accompany good news.”
Iain turned. His face was serious in a way that made Duncan’s instincts sharpen instantly.
“I wish it did.”
Duncan rested his hands on the edge of the desk. “What is it?”
Iain hesitated briefly before answering. “There has been some… movement in the town.”
Duncan frowned. “What sort of movement?”
“Naething obvious,” Iain said. “Naething we can confront directly.”
“That sounds vague.”
“It is vague.”
Duncan’s brows furrowed. “Then explain.”
Iain pushed away from the window and walked slowly toward the desk.
“Several of the men reported unusual activity near the market over the past two days,” he said. “Strangers asking questions. Passing through quickly. Lingering where they shouldnae.”
“Travelers pass through often,” Duncan replied.
“Aye,” Iain agreed. “But these ones seemed… interested.”
“In what?”
“That is the problem.”
Outside the window, a distant shout rose from the courtyard where soldiers sparred, followed by the dull clash of wooden practice swords. Inside the study, the air felt still.
“Rumors?” Duncan asked.
Iain nodded slowly. “A few.”
“What kind?”
“Money changing hands.”
Duncan’s posture went still. “Bribery.”
He leaned back slightly against the desk, the edge pressing against the backs of his thighs as he considered the information.
“And ye can confirm naething.”
“Naething,” Iain echoed. “Only whispers.”
Duncan exhaled through his nose.
Whispers were often the most dangerous kind of warning.
“How many strangers?” he asked.
“Enough that the guards noticed.”
“And none of them have caused trouble.”
“Nae yet.”
The words lingered in the room like the faint smell of a storm gathering beyond the hills. Duncan’s fingers stilled on the desk.
“Have the men keep watching,” he said at last. “Quietly.”
Iain nodded. “They already are.”
“And the rumors?”
“We’re following them,” Iain replied. “But folk in town are cautious. Nay one wants tae accuse the wrong man.”
“As they should be.”
Duncan pushed away from the writing table and walked toward the window. Outside, the courtyard carried on with its usual rhythm.
Everything appeared ordinary. That, however, was rarely a comfort.
Behind him, Iain shifted his weight.
“There’s something else,” the captain said.
Duncan did not turn yet.
“Aye?”
“The Council has been speaking again.”
Duncan’s jaw tightened faintly. He already knew where this was going.
“They are always speaking,” he said. “About what this time?”
Iain crossed his arms. “The same thing they have been speaking about fer months.”
Duncan finally turned. “Dinnae say it.”
“Ye should reconsider.”
“Absolutely nae.” Duncan exhaled sharply through his nose.
Iain did not look surprised by the response. “Me laird—”
“Nay.”
“Ye havenae even heard the argument.”
“I have heard it many times,” Duncan retorted flatly. “Usually from men who believe the solution tae every political concern is a wedding.”
Iain stepped closer to the writing table. “This isnae just the Council talking.”
Duncan’s gaze sharpened, but he didn’t say anything.
“The strangers in town,” Iain continued. “The rumors of money changing hands. Men asking questions about the castle, about the patrols.”
This was where Duncan’s expression darkened. “Ye think MacKenzie is behind it.”
“I think,” Iain answered cautiously, “that Lachlan MacKenzie has always preferred subtlety when force would be noticed too quickly.”
Duncan walked back toward the writing table. “He would nae dare move openly against us.”
“Nay,” Iain agreed. “Nae openly.”
Silence stretched between them. Then Iain said the thing Duncan had been expecting from the beginning.
“That is why the Council believes an alliance might discourage him.”
Duncan laughed once, but it was a short, sharp sound. “By marrying?”
“Aye,” Iain nodded.
Duncan planted both hands on the writing table, leaning forward slightly.
“We will nae tie this clan tae another so hastily, simply because Lachlan MacKenzie is stirring trouble.”
“It would strengthen our position.”
“We are already strong.”
Iain’s gaze remained steady. “Strong enough tae discourage him, perhaps. But alliances discourage ambition.”
Duncan shook his head. “I will nae marry fer strategy, ye ken that.”
“Many lairds dae.”
“I am nae many lairds, Iain. Enough with this subject.”
As Iain nodded with understanding and turned back toward the window, the unease in his posture had not entirely faded, and Duncan knew why.
Lachlan MacKenzie had always been a patient man. And patient men were often the most dangerous kind.