Chapter 4
Evander glanced down at Skye, still hunched over on the stool, and fought back a hard swallow.
His hands shook, knocking against his thighs, and he curled his fingers into tight fists. Bile clawed up his throat, and he swallowed once more, trying to compose himself.
She’s alive. She’s alive.
Was it relief that made him so shaky, or was it fury?
Energy sparked through his veins, urging him to do something, to move, to punch a wall or a tree, to run—anything.
Sudden movements were not what Skye needed right now, however. She needed calm, stillness, and composure. He tightened his fists until the tremors stopped.
She’s terrified. And that glazed look in her eyes… where did that come from?
He dragged a clammy hand over his face.
Stay calm. She’s back, and that’s all that matters. We can get to the bottom of what happened soon. For now, she’s alive. She’s safe.
She didn’t seem to be hurt, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t been hurt.
Outside, a mizzling rain had begun to fall. It might deter a few of the festival-goers, but most of them would happily keep on dancing and shopping and laughing, careless of the rain.
Evander would not be one of them. He called to an attendant outside the tent.
“Start packing up the camp,” he ordered, his voice low. “Take down the tent last. We’re leaving soon.”
“Aye, me Laird.”
The woman turned to go, but Evander spoke again.
“And fetch some bread, cheese, and cold meat. Bring it to the tent.”
She nodded, curtsied, and hurried away.
Evander tipped his head back, staring up at the sky.
Iron-gray and heavy, it hung low, so low one might imagine that clambering up on a hilltop would allow you to touch it.
Rain fell on his face, the drops tickling as they ran past his temples and into his hair, or down the tangled mess of his beard.
When was the last time he had shaved?
I was clean-shaven on our wedding day, he thought, lifting a hand and pushing his fingers through his beard. She patted me cheek, laughed, and said that I would suit a beard. I just look like a madman now.
Oh, he’d caught a few glimpses of himself recently. He didn’t spend much time staring into mirrors, but now and then there’d be a reflective surface. A hard-eyed, wild-faced man stared back at him, tangled hair hanging around his face.
And now she was back. What now?
I have a month to find out what’s going on. A month to make this right. I must do this right. I cannae be like him.
The old anxiety rushed in.
There it was, the fear that despite it all, he was no better than the man who’d come before him. After all, even the smallest mistake could mean that he was like him. His father. The man who had ruined it all and nearly dragged Clan Bryden into his grave with him.
And yet, despite how obvious it was that his father was a bad, cruel man who should be forgotten, whenever something happened, Evander couldn’t quite stop himself from thinking, just for a moment: What would Faither do?
“Evander.”
He flinched, blinking, startled out of his reverie. Straightening up and dropping his eyes from the watery sky, he glanced over to see Creighton returning, his gaze wary.
“I meant what I said earlier,” Creighton said crisply. “I’m sure ye ken how serious this matter is. Believe it or nae, I’m the easy problem here. The one who hates ye right now is Hunter.”
“Aye, I received several of his threatening letters. Does he still believe I spirited his sister away? Or had her killed?”
“He’ll nae believe that now that he kens she’s safe.
Still, Hunter is protective of his family.
He never wanted her to join the bridal swap.
For what it’s worth, he blames me, too.” Creighton shrugged tiredly.
“And I should warn ye that if I have to take sides in this matter, I’ll choose me cousin. ”
“I expect no less.”
He nodded, relaxing a little. “So, what are yer theories? Bump on the head? Embarrassment?”
Evander’s gaze sharpened. “Embarrassment?”
“Aye. If something terrible happened, or if she wishes to keep hidden her part in it—intentional or otherwise—she might claim she remembers nothing.”
“Ye say that as if it means nothing.”
Creighton met his eyes squarely. “Ye think so? I keep me tone light and me words off-hand because this is me cousin we are speaking of, and I daenae like to think of what has happened to her in the past year.”
Evander closed his eyes. “She seems to be in good health. No scars, no wounds, no sign that she has been mistreated. She’s a wee bit grimy, aye, but she seems healthy. Cared for.”
“Cared for,” Creighton repeated with a snort. “I wish I could believe that.”
“I daenae think that she’s pretending nae to remember out of embarrassment,” Evander continued, frowning. “She’s nae like that.”
Creighton gave him a long, thoughtful stare. “Nay, she’s nae, ye are right. Funny how ye ken that.”
“I spent time with her, even if she doesnae remember it.”
Memories flashed behind Evander’s eyes, and he momentarily glanced away. Skye could not regain her memories, but he seemed cursed to remember. He saw her smile flash wide, that high, ridiculous laugh of hers that embarrassed her so much.
He’d once wondered aloud whether she stayed so stern and serious because she was afraid of how silly she sounded when she laughed. She’d aimed a kick at his shin in response, which he’d dodged. Her kicks hurt.
Then she told me that our marriage would be a political one and no more. Then she disappeared on our wedding night.
He would have to go through the events of that night in detail and talk it through with her. Of course, he’d already picked apart the night in question over and over again, searching for some clue, some sign that he’d missed. Nothing had come to mind.
Her disappearance was a mystery, but he would be damned if he let her reappearance be just as mysterious.
“She’s nae herself, though,” he heard himself say. “She’s a hellion, but there’s a look in her eyes that wasnae there before. Fear. Confusion. I daenae like seeing that expression on her face.”
“Neither do I,” Creighton muttered. “How could an entire year’s worth of memories be erased?”
“The healers will look her over for any sign of a head injury, but I saw nothing. A simple knock to the head wouldn’t do such damage.
There are potions and medicines that can put a person to sleep and leave them with no idea of what happened.
A skilled apothecary might put together a mixture that leaves a person so confused and dizzy they cannae remember what happened before. ”
“Would such a thing be permanent?”
“I couldnae say. I doubt it, but I’m no healer. As I said, I’ll have her looked over. Ye can send yer healers too, but I daenae want her poked and prodded too much. Whatever she’s been through, it’s left her shaken. I want her to get well.”
“We agree on that, at least,” Creighton sighed.
Evander nodded in response.
The two men parted ways, and Evander turned back toward the tent, ducking his head.
Inside, Skye was standing, her back turned. She flinched when he entered, throwing a quick, wide-eyed glance over her shoulder. The trepidation vanished at once, but he’d still seen it, that sudden look of fear in her eyes.
Hungry rage bubbled inside him.
Who could put that look of fear into such a hellion’s eyes? Heaven help them when I get me hands on them.
Clenching his jaw, he puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders.
All in good time.
She gave him a tentative smile. “Are we leaving?”
“If ye wish, lass.”
She gave a relieved nod. “Can we stop by Inverness on the way back? I want to get out of this dress as soon as possible.”
He gave a wry smile. “Whatever ye want, lass. Just ask, and I’ll make it happen.”