“Needless to say, we did not come to an agreement.” Niall said, as they reached their horses and mounted up. “When we get back to Carregness, your job will be to seal the buildings and grounds. We’ve posted guards, but we could do more to keep people out.”
“Aye, I’ll take care of it,” his brother promised. “Though as long as Heather has locked herself in her room, I’d say no one will get to her.”
“She can’t stay in there forever,” Niall muttered, frowning as he recalled Heather’s words from the day before. If she wasn’t going to even talk to him face-to-face, how could he know he was doing the right thing by keeping her in the castle?
Ian chuckled. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar. You look as if you’re about to fall on your sword. What can be bothering you so? Possibly a wee English wife? Bonny lass like that should be no problem at all. You just take her to bed and keep her there till she sees things your way.”
“Can’t exactly do that when she’s locked herself away.”
“Does she not know there’s another key?” Ian asked.
“Of course not!” Niall had deliberately avoided telling her that a master ring resided in the MacNair’s chambers, partly because that ring was never used (he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even seen it), but mostly to give Heather more confidence in staying in the room adjacent to his. “And if I did use the master key, she’d take it as a betrayal. Not to mention that she hates the sight of me.”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“She does. And I explicitly promisednotto take her to bed when this whole thing began.”
“Niall, I can’t tell if you want to be married or not. Your Heather is a charming little lass, and she’s got a good head on her shoulders, and she’s a heiress to boot. Yet you’re tiptoeing around her like she’s a catamount you’re afraid to wake up.”
“Easy for you to say. You don’t have a stake in what happens.”
“Of course I do!” Ian said. “You being married off makes everything simpler for the rest of us. We know where we stand, and what to expect in the future.”
“What does that mean? You always know where you stand with me.”
“I just meant…we can make our own plans,” Ian amended, looking away. “I want you to be happy, Niall. If Heather makes you happy, fight to keep her. If she doesn’t, let her go. But this in-between is torture.”
“Don’t I know it.”
When they returned home, Ian left him, already working on the task of improving their defenses.
Niall went upstairs, entered his own bed chamber, approached the connecting door, and took a deep breath before he knocked. “Heather? Are you in there?”
Stupid question. Well, considering that she sometimes left rooms by the window, perhaps not.
“I’m here,” she replied.
“Can we talk…not through a layer of oak?”
There was a long silence, and then—magic!—the sound of a key in the lock.
Heather opened the door, regarding him with a wary expression. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves about her shoulders and she wore the blue dress he especially liked.
“You look nice,” he said, like an idiot.
“I had a lot of time to brush my hair,” she replied wryly. Then she said, “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. And for behaving like a brat. I’mnotsorry about your father’s shoes,” she added. “But I’m sorry about all the rest of it.”
“You had a shock. It was understandable.”
“That’s very kind of you to say. But I am aware that it was not a shining example of maturity.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
