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“I say you stay.”
Pulling her arm from his hold, she stood up straight spine. “You can say what you like.” Anger tainted her tone. “I will not sit here and do nothing.” With that, she strutted from the table to pack.
On the way, she requested the carriage from Glen.
~.~.~
The excuse for her to leave him availed itself rather soon, Taran realised, irritation eating at him. As a wolf in a cage, he paced the front steps, self-control slipping from his hold.
Why would she come back, anyway? He did not present himself as the easiest of creatures to deal with, he was aware of it. Did Fiona not say the same?
His guts twisted and re-twisted while
he waited for her to come down from their chambers. He barked orders for two of his sturdiest footmen to accompany her. At least he must make sure she travelled safely.
Aileen came down with a sack and a box of healing supplies, and Taran tamped down his reactions. Her attention flitted from him to the carriage and the footmen, avoiding longer contact.
“Send me a message if you deem anything amiss.” She recommended before climbing in the vehicle.
Her absence would be the ‘anything amiss’. Bluidy Hell! Did she not realise it? Obviously not, you pig-head! You did not tell her!
A frowned expression watched the carriage drive away. He hurried inside to bury himself in the study. To tell her about what went on in his mind involved a whole chain of hazards he was not prepared to acknowledge.
The difficult part would be to get used to loneliness anew. Head on his hands, sitting at his desk, he mulled. With the difference of Sam’s absence, whom needed no care this time. Which made the solitariness even more arduous than before, he perceived.
How the devil did he find himself in this mess for the second time?
Work. Work provided the answer. The manor involved the sheep, the tenants, the distillery and tens of other chores to see to at this period.
Springing from his chair, he marched out of the study.
~.~.~
Aileen jostled in the carriage worried with her brother. But also, discontent with Taran and his outrageous behaviour. Not that she considered leaving at this moment the most appropriate course of action to take. After the gathering at the church and Taran’s brooding or the consuming night they spent together, she pondered they would require more time to sort this out.
Not possible to deny help to her brother though. A tight situation to be in, no doubt. She would make sure she came back as soon as the circumstances allowed. For now, she must take it as it came.
~.~.~
Wallace assisted her as she went down the carriage, heavy expression on his face. “He has been unconscious for four days.” He informed her.
Alarm rang in her with this information.
“What happened?” As the heir to the McKendrick clan, Drostan was pivotal in the family. Though her brothers gained the necessary training to undertake the task, should there be need.
“We do not know for sure.” They entered the manor hurriedly. “A villager here who recognised the heir found him on the road and brought him.”
The village’s healer sat by his immobile large form when she neared his bed. A doctor from Aberdeen made himself also present, but seemed at a loss what to do.
At his side, her attention fell on a boy of about four at the corner of the room. He exhibited Drostan’s exact old-whisky eye colour and hair.
Fingal came in at that minute. She eyed him, inquiringly. “We do not know who the boy is.” He stated.
The brothers often exchanged confidences. If Fingal did not have information, no one would.
She checked her elder brother for fever and injuries, to identify nothing. It looked something more like shock. Not much to do, just feed and give him fluids.
Attention turning to the boy, she approached him as his big eyes widened on her. “What is your name?” She asked simply.
