Chapter 29 #2
Before Duncan could say anything, she slipped her arm through his, chattering about the pleasant visit and jesting about Kenneth’s flirting. Within minutes, her brother’s attention had shifted entirely towards her, leaving Malcolm quietly exhaling beside them.
Still, circumstances being what they were, she was unsurprised when the mood among the men sobered once more.
Duncan turned toward Malcolm thoughtfully. “I think we should ride the perimeter this afternoon,” he said. “Speak tae the villagers oursel’s. If Sinclair’s men are probing the borders, firsthand accounts could be vital.”
The seriousness in his tone sent unease curling through Catriona’s stomach. Torcall suddenly felt very near again, like a hovering hawk’s shadow falling across a hapless rabbit below. And she was the rabbit.
Malcolm nodded slowly, his gaze flicking almost imperceptibly to Catriona. “Agreed. Though I’m nae certain both of us should leave the castle together.”
Duncan frowned faintly.
“With Sinclair’s men so close,” Malcolm continued, “someone should remain here overseein’ the defenses.”
“Right enough, Braither,” Ewan agreed immediately, catching on. “’Tis best if ye stay here, and I can ride with Duncan instead.”
Duncan studied Malcolm for a long moment. “There’s somethin’ different about ye lately,” he remarked suddenly.
Catriona’s pulse skipped. Beside her, Malcolm remained impressively calm.
“Aye, I’m different all right, due tae havin’ that bastard Sinclair breathin’ down me neck every hour of the day and night,” he returned gruffly.
Duncan nodded slowly, though his sharp gaze lingered on his friend as he observed, “Aye, I can see why that would get on yer nerves.”
To Catriona’s relief, he clapped Malcom’s shoulder. “All right. Me and Ewan will go and check out the lay of the land. Guard me sister well. See ye both at supper.” His parting glance took in the both of them as he walked off toward the stables with Ewan.
The breath Catriona had not realized she was holding burst from her lips.
Malcolm muttered quietly, “Jaysus, that was too close.”
“Aye.”
They exchanged a brief look, heavy with shared understanding as they turned back towards the keep, the wind whipping around them.
She knew he was dreading the conversation ahead. And truthfully, she longed for it to be over as much as he did.
But he’s a proud, honorable man. He needs tae dae this properly in his own time.
“Stop yer moonin’, man. Ye’re starin’ after her like a lovesick fool,” Ewan remarked in a low voice over the rim of his ale cup, leaning into Malcolm’s shoulder as they sat side by side at the breakfast table in the Great Hall the following morning.
“Shut yer mouth and eat yer food, ye amadan,” Malcolm, already wound as tight as a nocked arrow, hissed back through clenched teeth, shooting his brother a sideways warning look. “D’ye wantae see me skewered at me own breakfast table?”
He flicked a nervous glance at Duncan sitting opposite, terrified his friend might have heard the teasing words and would finally put two and two together.
Mercifully, Duncan was oblivious, engrossed in layering baked ham between two hunks of bread.
Malcolm breathed a silent sigh of relief and felt the surge of fear drain from him.
Once again, he glared darkly at Ewan, curling his fist tightly around his ale cup when his brother only grinned back at him with his usual playful insouciance.
Galling as it was, he had to admit Ewan was right. He had been staring after Catriona, who had left the table only a few minutes before with Mairead, heading for the infirmary. Somehow, her absence had already left the chamber feeling colder.
Duncan chewed on a huge bite of his carefully arranged food, then leaned back in his chair to look at Malcolm with his sharp green eyes.
“Well,” he said at last, “what d’ye make of Kenneth Forbes?”
Malcolm put down his cup and reached automatically for his bread. “Why d’ye ask?”
Duncan shrugged. “Curiosity mostly. Ye’re tied tae the man now.”
Ewan exchanged a quick glance with Malcolm before saying carefully, “He’s nae as stupid as he looks.”
Duncan laughed. “Aye, he’s a bit of a smooth one all right, but he’s built his clan up intae one of the wealthiest and most powerful in the north, so he must be daein’ somethin’ right.”
“Aye,” said Malcolm as evenly as he could, feeling once more the pinch of jealousy. “And he intends tae keep goin’ from what I can tell. He’s very ambitious.”
Duncan’s brows met. “Sounds tae me as if ye dinnae like him much,” he observed, his curious gaze searching Malcolm’s face.
Malcolm tore off a piece of bread somewhat more violently than necessary. “Daes it matter what I think of him? I sought an ally, nae a friend.”
Duncan gave a low hum of agreement. “Brutally honest but true enough.” He lifted his cup and supped some ale as silence settled between them again.
Then he added casually, “He kens how close we are, and now ye two are officially allies, he says he’s very interested in strengthenin’ ties with Clan Grant as well.”
Something in his tone immediately put Malcolm on edge. “Oh?” he said cautiously, taking another bite of bread.
“Aye.” Duncan lifted his cup. “Once all this business with Sinclair is behind us, I might consider him as a suitable husband for Catriona. He seemed very taken with her.”
The piece of bread lodged in Malcolm’s throat like a stone, choking him and making him cough so violently, he almost sent his ale cup flying.
Ewan burst into startled laughter and clapped him on the back until he managed to force the bread down.
Duncan stared at him in amusement. “Christ, Malcolm, are ye dyin’?”
Malcolm gasped to draw air into his lungs. “It went down the wrong way,” he murmured, picking up a napkin and wiping his lips, mostly to hide his shock. His blood seemed to have turned to ice in his veins.
Ewan was still laughing. “God’s teeth, Braither, I thought ye were about tae rupture somethin’.”
Recovering fast, Malcolm ignored him completely. Desperate to dissuade Duncan from his suggested plan without giving himself away, he grabbed at the first argument that came to mind.
Fixing Duncan with a dark stare, he said, “Ye truly wish tae send yer sister away again so soon after finally getting her back?” The question came out more sharply than he intended.
Duncan’s brows lifted slightly at the intensity behind them. “Well,” he replied slowly, “I’m hardly plannin’ tae throw her at the first laird with a decent title and all his teeth.”
Ewan snorted into his cup.
“But Kenneth is well placed,” Duncan continued thoughtfully. “He’s laird of a powerful clan, with considerable influence. That’s why ye’ve just signed a treaty with him, eh? A marriage alliance would make perfect sense.”
Malcolm’s jaw tightened. All he could picture was Kenneth kissing Catriona’s hand in the courtyard while smiling like some damned peacock. The thought alone soured his stomach, which was busy tying itself into painful knots.
“Aye,” he muttered stiffly. “I suppose it would.”
Duncan studied him for a long moment. Then, he smiled and said, “Still, ye’re right. It needs careful consideration. And there are other more pressin’ matters that need resolvin’ first, like Sinclair.”
“Aye, like Sinclair,” Malcolm echoed gloomily, torn between telling Duncan the truth that very day and putting himself out of his misery, and wishing Sinclair would finally attack so he could put off the dreaded conversation some more.