“You promise?” Brenna asked.
“What? That it’ll be grand, or you’ll be stuck with Ian?”
“Both.”
“Aye, Brenna. It’s a promise.”
“Then I’d best start planning.” She now looked like a cat with cream. “Ian, come with me.”
She walked away, Ian at her heels like a faithful puppy.
“Well,” Heather said after they’d gone. She didn’t add anything else.
“You really thought he was me?”
“You’re practically twins from the back! And it was quite dark when I saw them together.”
“You were jealous,” he realized, all at once.
“I was not! Just…confused. You kissing me one moment, then seeming to be kissing Brenna the next. It’s not proper.”
“As if I haven’t got enough on my mind. Romancing two women at once, on top of everything else.”
“Well, you were engaged to her. I think it’s a very understandable…misunderstanding.”
“You’re adorable when you’re trying not to be wrong.”
“I’m not going to discuss this further, Niall MacNair,” Heather said, turning her nose up and beginning to walk away.
He reached out and spun her about. “Oh, I think we will, lass. You all but accused me of cheating on you, and we’re not even actually married.”
“But everyone thinks we are,” she pointed out. “So you can understand why I want you to act like a real husband.”
“Thought I was.” He pulled her closer, fully intending to kiss her on her cute nose.
However, the moment he had Heather in his arms, she ceased to be adorable, and simply became too dangerous to be around. She stared up at him, her eyelashes fluttering. Her mouth was open and incredibly tempting. He could show her that there was only one woman in Carregness occupying his thoughts.
She inhaled, her chest swelling.
Niall released her before he could do any real damage.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ve got to go. Got to speak to…someone…about the thing…” He practically ran out of there, leaving Heather even more confused than before.
* * * *
It took Niall a long time to get to sleep that night, and halfway through, a light blazed in his face, and a hand grabbed his shoulder roughly.
“Niall, you need to get up and come with me.” The voice was familiar. “Niall! Wake up! Now.”
He blinked, seeing his sister standing at his bedside with a candlestick in her hand and a grave expression on her face. “Maeve? What is it?”
“It’s Father.”
Niall dressed hurriedly and walked the frigid, dim halls to his father’s bedchamber. Maeve’s candle cast a wobbling yellow glow against the stone walls, making everything feel strange and unreal.
In the bedchamber, all was quiet. A grey-haired servant sat on a wooden stool near the MacNair’s bed, his attitude very calm.
“My lord,” he said, standing up to offer the stool to Niall. “I found him like this about a half-hour ago. I always check on him in the middle of the night, to see that the room is warm enough and that he has something to drink. He’s often wakeful at night, coughing. But tonight he wasn’t making a sound…”
