“He’s a good dog,” Nicholas said in explanation, giving Broc a final scratch before exiting the kitchen and returning to his chambers.
He slept little that night, worried he’d wake to find his best friend’s beloved pet dead and wondering—with an unpleasant mixture of dread and intense curiosity—what mischief his bride-to-be plotted.
7
Gillian?” Alan said, his irritation tinged with affection. “What happened next?”
Gillian started from a daze of daydreams and looked down at the open book on her lap, searching for her place. It was the third time she’d trailed off in her reading, leaving her father to stare at her in amused exasperation. She couldn’t stop thinking about Lord Kincreag.Nicholas.She loved the sound of his name in her mind. She dared not speak it aloud, but as she’d lain in bed last night, she’d imagined calling him by his given name as he kissed her again and held her. In fact, she couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything this morning, her mind forever drifting back to her betrothed.
Alan sighed. “Let’s leave off the reading for now.”
Gillian closed the book and set it aside. He’d had a good night. No nightmares. Healthy color replaced the pallor of his cheeks above his beard, though they were still gaunt and rawboned. At times like this, it seemedthere really was hope for the chieftain of the Glen Laire MacDonells.
“You’re certain you don’t mind me leaving?” she asked again. She’d told him of her conversation with Nicholas and that she wished to accompany him to Kincreag. But she felt a pang of guilt for leaving her father, whom she’d been separated from for so long.
“Why should I? I’m the one that wished to see you wed before I died. It’s what I want. Your place is with your husband. Isobel lives at Sgor Dubh with Philip. It does my heart good to know she has a good man to protect her in these times.” He took Gillian’s hand. “As it does my heart good to see you with Kincreag.”
Gillian squeezed her father’s hand.
“Besides, Kincreag is not far—closer than Isobel at Sgor Dubh.”
Isobel and Sir Philip’s party had been sighted from the walls nearly an hour ago. They would be here soon, so Uncle Roderick had crossed the loch to wait for them. Gillian had missed her sister this past month. She hoped they would visit often in spite of the awkwardness the broken betrothal caused.
Alan studied her closely. “Are you happy with him, sweeting?”
Gillian had gotten her wish—to marry a Scotsman and remain in Scotland, close to her family. And besides that, she was intrigued and drawn to the brooding earl. Perhaps it wasn’t deep love, like her sisters had for their men, but it was the best Gillian could hope for.
“Aye, Da. I’m satisfied.”
His green eyes narrowed as he studied her critically. “Now, ye dinna have to lie to me. I ken he . . . seems unpleasant and perhaps a trifle cold, but in truth, he’s a good man. His first wife . . .”
“Aye?” Gillian leaned forward eagerly. She hadn’t thought to ask her father about Kincreag’s first wife, but now it seemed a thoughtless oversight. Of course Alan would be biased, but still, he’d known Nicholas when he’d been married to Catriona. Her father should have much to tell.
But before he could say anything more, the door opened and Broc trotted in, followed by Hagan, then the earl himself.
Gillian sighed, curiosity unsatisfied. She was determined to finish this conversation before she left for Kincreag. She was developing a rather morbid curiosity about the late countess.
She avoided looking at the earl, as his presence did more than remind her of the night before; it sent her pulse galloping and made her feel flushed and awkward. She was so involved in trying to behave normally and hide her suddenly trembling hands that she was startled when Broc bounded over and jumped on her, planting his large, hairy paws on her chest and licking her face enthusiastically.
“Down, Broc!” Alan laughed. “I’ve never seen him like this. Oh, Hagan, get him!”
Hagan grabbed the dog’s collar before he knocked Gillian out of her chair.
“Good morn—” Alan started to greet the earl, but he was cut off by Gillian’s shriek as Broc flew at her again.
“Confounded dog!” Alan sat up in the bed, scowling fiercely.
Hagan wrestled with the ardent deerhound, finally shoving him out the door. Broc scratched and whined at the door for several minutes before finally falling silent.
Alan shook his head, bewildered. “I’ve never seen him behave so.”
Gillian hadn’t either. The deerhound usually lay at her father’s bedside like an old rug, barely rousing himself to eat.
She chanced a glance up at Kincreag and found him staring darkly at her. She quickly looked away, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. Perhaps the love philter had worn off and he regretted kissing her the night before? But that couldn’t be. Hazel had told her it would last for some time, a month at least. But then she remembered she’d not completed the spell. She still needed his hair.
She gathered her courage and turned to Kincreag, smiling cheerfully. “I was talking to Father about preparations for the wedding—”
“My people have prepared everything,” he said, his enigmatic stare still fixed on her.
