“How could I?” Douglas said. “The lass would have been miserable. Ye know she’s always been a free spirit, always followed her heart. And she’s besotted with the Murray boy, and he with her. He’ll make her a devoted husband, which is more than could be said for Duncan MacDonald. More in love with himself than anyone else, that one. When yer father died, I promised I’d take care of ye and yer sister, and I mean to honor that promise.”
Emeric swirled his glass, staring down into the liquid. Suddenly, the room felt stifling. His father’s presence hung heavy in Dun Achmore, even though he’d been gone for years. He took another gulp of whisky.
“How did the MacDonalds react to the news?”
“As ye might expect. They feel slighted. Insulted. And ye know how insults between clans can fester in the Highlands.” He waved a hand. “Dinna worry, lad. I’ll smooth things over. It will be fine.”
Emeric said nothing. Instead, he reached down, untied the purse from his waist, and tossed it onto the small table between them. The coins inside jingled as it landed.
Douglas narrowed his eyes. “What’s that?”
“I told ye I’m not a naive youth anymore, Uncle. Brodie Murray might be besotted with Aislinn, but his father isnae. Alistair Murray wouldnae agree to a match between the Murrays and the Mackintosh without ye paying a sizable dowry. A dowry that we can ill afford. Am I right?”
Laird Douglas studied Emeric in silence. Then he sighed, looking away. He ran a hand across his face. “Aye, lad. Ye are right.”
“Then that should cover it. It’s my pay from the Order.”
Laird Douglas stared at the purse. Emeric wondered whether, in his pride, he might refuse. But his uncle was more pragmatic than that. He picked up the purse and dropped it into a desk drawer.
“Ye know,” he said. “I thought we lost my brother ten years ago. But we didnae. He’s sitting right in front of me now. He lives on in ye, lad. Ye are so like him. He would be proud of ye.Iam proud of ye.”
Emeric looked away, suddenly uncomfortable. He didn’t like being compared to his father.
“Well, it’s late. I should be getting to bed.”
Downing the rest of his whisky, he put his goblet down on the table and rose to his feet. His uncle rose as well.
“The games to celebrate Aislinn’s marriage start in a few days. I think it’s about time the Mackintosh showed what we can do, eh? Will ye join me in training the men in the morning?”
Emeric inclined his head. “Of course. I’d be honored.”
Douglas nodded and gripped Emeric’s arm. “It’s good to have ye back, lad.”
“It’s good to be back,” he replied. “Good night, Uncle.”
With that, he turned on his heel and left, closing the door behind him. As he walked through the shadowed corridors towards his room, he pondered how easily lying came to him these days. Because no matter what he said to his uncle, itwasn’tgood to be back.
And he couldn’t wait to leave.
Chapter 8
