Alexander’s mouth tightened. “Aye. My wife will not be expecting you.”
Nor any other within Lochshire Castle. Everyone believes me dead.
Alexander stroked his mount’s neck, cast his brother a speculative look. “Duncan has married since you left.”
Duncan was married? “Who?”
“Lady Isabel Adair.”
“But she left him a week before they were to wed. Duncan swore . . .” Patrik closed his eyes, fought against the throbbing in his head, then opened them. “Makes no sense.”
“It should not. But then, trust Duncan to step in the muck and come out as if a candlestick polished. A story I will let the lad tell you.” Alexander hesitated. “You should know, Seathan has taken a wife as well, an English noble. She is a fine lass, one I would give my life to defend.”
Beneath his calm delivery, Patrik heard the threat. His brothers would allow him within Lochshire Castle, but he had not yet earned their trust. Nor could he not blame them.
“Rest. I will tell Seathan you are awake.” Alexander kicked his mount. Hooves clattered on stone as he rode ahead.
Patrik sighed. All of his brothers married. The news yet another harsh reminder of time passed, and of precious moments lost. Yet somehow within the mayhem of his life, he’d found Cristina. He sobered. Found her mayhap, but with his life given to reclaiming Scotland’s freedom, he must let her go.
Needing to touch her, he clasped her hand, surprised to find it cold. Patrik glanced over.
Face pale, she stared at Lochshire Castle.
“What is wrong?”
“It is imposing,” she whispered as if to speak the words out loud would unleash a spell.
Memories of the first time he’d beheld the Norman stronghold replayed in his mind. It was a home forged by unforgiving men, powerful lords who’d helped carve Scotland’s destiny. Instead of nervousness, pride had filled him. But, he’d arrived at this formidable castle as a lad accepted, not a woman whose life at every turn lay shattered.
“You will be welcome,” he said.
“Will I?” Nervous eyes remained unconvinced.
“Lord Grey returns,” a sentry’s voice boomed as they approached the drawbridge.
Pride as well as apprehension filled Patrik. His brothers knew he lived, but he’d yet to face Nichola.
Hooves echoed like thunder as Seathan’s knights rode across the drawbridge. The forged walls closed, arched to the sky to scrape the rain-darkened clouds. A breeze swept past, rich with the scent of water.
Darkness encased them as the wagon rolled beneath the gatehouse. Then a dismal light exposed a crowd of men and women converging within the bailey to welcome their lord and his men.
But not a man who’d tried to kill his brother’s wife.
Anxiety built, stealing his ability to move—he could only feel, regret the tragedy of that day a year past, regret the actions of a man driven by hate who’d understood his error too late.
Patrik swallowed hard. When the people of Lochshire Castle discovered he lived, please let them find it in their hearts to offer forgiveness. That his brothers allow him to return was the first step, but little more. Whatever transpired now would reveal whether Lochshire Castle would ever again be his home.
“Seathan!” a woman called.
The warm English accent had Patrik turning.
A slender woman, her amber-gold hair braided in a delicate plait, with a gold circlet framing her head, ran toward his eldest brother. In a deft move, Seathan dismounted, drew the woman in his arms and caught her in a fierce kiss.
Seathan’s wife—the English noble Alexander had spoken of.
Patrik waited for the roll of anger, the bitterness he’d always felt when it came to the English. As he watched the Englishwoman in his brother’s arms, Patrik found naught but regret. Because he’d allowed bitterness to guide his actions, he’d missed coming to know the woman who had stolen Seathan’s heart. If she had won his brother’s respect, she must be an incredible woman indeed.
The wagon slowed to a halt. Several knights began unloading their meager belongings, while two others helped Marie and Joneta to the ground.
