Chapter 7
Two weeks passed. The Sinclairs’ visit was coming to a close, and Liam did his best to ignore both his parents and the Sinclairs.
Well, as many of the Sinclairs as he could.
It was impossible to ignore Jean, not that he wanted to, either.
She was the only one who could ease the tension mounting in his chest.
After the feast, his father was being less and less inconspicuous about his agenda.
The previous day, he had out-right asked Liam if he would consider wedding Jean.
Thankfully, Liam’s mother was there as well to hush him immediately.
She told Liam that they wished for him to marry for love and nothing less, but that twinkle in her eye told him that she very much wanted that woman to be Jean.
If it were duty, Liam would marry Jean. He knew that. He would do anything for his clan, and if his father said this marriage would keep his clan safe for another generation, Liam wouldn’t even question it.
But love? Now was not the time to try to figure out what that meant.
Liam still couldn’t shake that something was wrong.
Clan Gibson was not the type to demand land and then let it go if they didn’t get it.
They were a small clan who’d grown enormously over the last decade, all under the leadership of their ruthless laird.
He’d overpowered smaller clans and taken what he wanted.
Creighton thought Armstrong was too big for them.
They were stretching their wings and would fall back down when they realized they couldn’t take flight.
Liam feared that just meant he would strike when they least expected it.
“There ye are. Yer father has been looking for ye everywhere.” Jean was out of breath as she fell into step with him. “Are ye running from a fire?”
Immediately, he slowed, but she just kept going and glanced over her shoulder. “Dinnae stop on my account. Just tell me where we are going.”
Shaking his head, he picked up his pace again. “No destination in mind. Simply wanted to stretch my legs.”
“Ah. When I am frustrated, I take my mare for a ride through the woods.”
“And shoot yer bow while standing in the saddle?” Liam teased.
Jean shot him an annoyed look. “That was four years ago.”
That time she had falled badly, broken her arms and hit her head so hard she’d been unconscious for a week. His mother had packed her bags and was planning to visit and give support. She thought for sure Jean would not wake up.
“What were ye thinking?”
Jean stopped and glared at him. “I will tell ye what I was thinking four years ago if ye tell me what ye are thinking now. There is clearly something bothering ye.”
After a moment, he nodded and slowed his pace so she could talk without running out of breath.
“Ye must know that yer father is not here just to visit. He is supporting his friend and upholding the alliance sure. A little more than two months ago, Clan Gibson made an outrageous claim of a verbal agreement that makes our most distant and vulnerable land his. My father rightfully told him to take it to the king who, of course, would dismiss it. We havenae heard from him since.”
“Ballach Gibson is no fool,” Jean said in a low voice. “He would know that his claim would not go far. He wouldnae make it if he didnae have a plan.”
“Ah, that is what I think as well. My father thinks he wouldnae dare take on such a big clan. If it were anyone else, I would agree. But there have been fires without explanation, and the last time I was there…”
Liam’s voice trailed off as he thought of Amelia’s scream.
“Liam?”
“I suspected there was a wolf in the woods.
I even tried to track it, and then I let it go.
I thought I was wrong. It was an insane idea.
‘Tis possibly still an insane idea. But then a woman died. Mauled to death at the wood’s edge.
Everyone believes ‘twas a feral hound. My friend kept an eye out. He says there have been no other sightings of the hound.”
Her hazel eyes widened, and she gave a little gasp. Liam knew what she was thinking. It was what everyone else was thinking.
He’d lost his mind.
Jean was quiet for a moment, and then she nodded.
“I am sorry that ye lost one of yer own.
It must be difficult, but I am glad that ye told me.
‘Tis obvious that it has been weighing on ye. I will admit that a wolf being in the Highlands is preposterous, but even if it were not, how does it connect to Gibson?”
Liam couldn’t help but feel his chest loosen just a little. It was just like Jean to accept such a preposterous idea and work through it, looking for a way to find it plausible.
“I dinnae know. I willnae know unless I can return. My father sent some guards to help rebuild after the fires, but he willnae send me.”
“Because we are here, and ye are playing gracious host. Yet mother and father can do that.”
She really had no idea what their parents were trying to do. Was she truly that naive? Or could she just not conceive a future where she was married?
Or maybe just not one in which she married him. For some reason, that didn’t sit well with him.
“Also, to have me go would send a signal that father is worried.
He doesnae want the villagers to worry or anyone spying for Gibson to report that my father is nervous.
I see where he is coming from, but I dinnae think it matters.
Gibson will attack, whether he thinks my father is prepared or not. ‘Tis only a matter of time.”
Jean put her hand on his arm. “Liam, that woman’s death was not your fault. You cannae take it personally, and, although I know my opinion doesnae matter, I do believe ye are right. Gibson is a threat, and ye should go and see to things personally.”
His parents both had different ideas about what made a marriage work. His mother said that a woman should support her husband. His father said a woman should challenge her husband. His mother said a husband should protect his wife. His father said a husband should honor his wife.
Jean supported him and certainly challenged him. He wanted to protect her.
But could he honor her? Could he marry Jean Sinclair? Maybe the love came later.
“Ye are staring at me,” she said with a scowl. “Do ye not think my opinion relevant? Is this why ye didnae want to talk to me?”
“Nay. Of course not. I just…”
“Liam! Liam!”
At the sound of panic, Liam turned. Five men, on horseback, were racing his way. Gordon was with them. They stopped directly in front of him.
“Gordon. What has happened?”
The burly man stared at him and shook his head. “Where is yer father? We need to speak.”
Jean watched Liam calmly lead the group of men. He’d made introductions and apologized for leaving their conversation early. He was collected. Cool under pressure. A true leader.
He’d make a great laird one day.
Blowing out her breath, she sat cross-legged on the grass and absently plucked some of the blades.
Even when she was a young girl, she dreamed of being a warrior.
Her mother supported her but still sat her in the grass and taught her how to plait blades of grass and flowers.
As a child, she’d found it frustrating to sit still and do anything considered pretty.
But she found she enjoyed working with her fingers, and she still did it whenever she needed to think.
The problems with the Armstrongs had nothing to do with her. She did not need to get involved. She and her parents were leaving in two days anyway. Liam would convince his father to do the right thing.
There was no reason for her to feel unsettled. She’d enjoyed her time here. Her parents had allowed her to train with the Armstrong guards. She was never in any danger. The only real challenge she got was with Liam.
It was also the only time Liam seemed to really relax. At least now she could understand his burden. A woman had died, and he blamed himself.
“We havenae had the pleasure of an introduction.”
At the sound of the new voice, Jean jumped to her feet. Someone had snuck up on her in the middle of an open meadow. She should have been less concerned about Liam’s focus and more concerned about her own.
A handsome Armstrong lad stood before her with a cocky smile on his face, blonde hair brightened to an angelic quality under the sun and eyes as blue as the sky.
“Ye must be Donal,” she said as she tried to match his smile. “Liam’s description of ye was spot-on.”
“Tall, strong, charming face?”
“Not quite those words,” she chuckled as she brushed her hands along her skirt.
“Plaiting flowers in the meadows. Not what I expected from the Hellion of Sinclair.”
Jean blinked. “Excuse me?”
With a grin, Donal touched his chin. “My apologies. I meant the Princess of Sinclair.”
“The Hellion of Sinclair is my aunt,” Jean said coldly. “She is a wonderful woman, and I would be proud to share the title with her, however, I am my own person.”
The smile dropped, and Donal lost all of his confidence. “Aye, I apologize. Liam has been keeping ye to himself, and I wanted to get to know ye. Perhaps I’ve come on too strong.”
“Apology accepted.” Jean was about to step away, but she saw an opportunity that she couldn’t resist. Even if she knew she should not get involved. “Were ye with Liam when the… hound attacked that poor woman?”
“Amelia.” Donal’s face dropped. “Aye. I know that he took it hard. How is he doing?”
“Ye dinnae know? Forgive me, I thought ye two were close.”
“Aye, but I’ve been keeping to myself since returning. I am due back for guard duty tomorrow. Last day of rest and relaxation.”
Jean tried to keep the incredulous look from her face. She knew of no warrior who enjoyed extended rest and relaxation time. Most of them were anxious to get back to the training field or, in more desperate times, the battlefield.
Her heart went out to him. “Donal, were you close with Amelia?”
His eye twitched, and he took a step back. “I was closer with her sister. Mara has been devastated. Amelia was the only family she had.”
He felt the same kind of guilt as Liam, only he was going about it differently. Hiding from himself. She knew how to help Liam. He needed to remind himself to believe in his intuition and stop trying to compare himself to his father. He needed to return to the territory and defend it.
Without losing faith in himself again.
She glanced back at the keep. “Donal, if ye were worried about a friend, what would ye do?”
“Stay with him until I knew that I didnae have to worry about him.”
“Hmm. Donal, I’ve one more thing to say to ye before ye return to yer rest and relaxation.”
“And what is that?”
“A warrior should be able to defend and sit in a field and braid flowers.”
“So ‘tis the Warrior of Sinclair and not the Hellion?”
“‘Tis certainly not the princess.”