A beat later, he seemed to be able to work his throat again. “My lady, I trust ye slept well?”
“Aye. So much better than a tent.” One of the servants placed her bowl of porridge in front of her, and the delighted smile on Rhiannon’s face was contagious.
It also appeared to be the cure he’d been looking for with his headache, for the pain receded to near-nothingness.
“’Tis indeed. Bacon?” he asked, prepared to serve her as was polite.
“None for me, thank you. This porridge looks delightful.” She popped one of the berries in her mouth.
Ian ate without tasting as she dipped her spoon and brought it to her lips, clearly enjoying the buttered and honeyed porridge.
“Ah, Ian, ye look better than last night,” Alistair said, marching into the great hall. He clapped Ian on the back hard enough that Ian almost choked.
His brother brought with him the scent of the fresh outdoors, likely the rounds he’d done that morning before breaking his fast. Alistair was a hands-on laird, like their brother Noah.
It was the way they’d been raised, to take care of their own. To be involved. A leader couldn’t always take the word of their seconds and other assistants as the way of it. One had to see with one’s own eyes.
Even as he thought that, he grimaced, realizing that was what he’d been doing all these years. Aye, when he was at his holding, he was hands-on, involved in everything, but the rest of the time? He took their word for it.
The whole place could have burned down, and his people sailed for France, and he’d never know because he believed the letters that were sent to him. Letters he would have to read when he got to his brother Noah’s castle—which was where they waited for him. From Noah’s shores, if one looked out on a clear morning, the shores of Orkney could be seen.
And since, more often than not, Ian ended up at Noah’s castle, that was where his people sent him updates. Probably hoping one day he’d hop on a ship and return more permanently.
Alistair settled at the table, grabbing a handful of bacon. After chewing a fair amount, he said, “The English were spotted on the road south of here. About two dozen of them.”
“Bloody hell,” Ian grumbled. Rhiannon had been right. Her brother must have intercepted the letters and knew her exact route. The man might be a gambling arse, but he could plan and read a map. “Headed north for certain?” He hoped that perhaps it was just another regiment of Longshanks’s men.
“Aye. My scouts came to let me know they were headed north, and the crest on their shields was three scallop shells.”
“That is our family crest,” Rhiannon said softly. “It is Adam.”
Ian bristled, clenching his fists. “Want me to take men out and head them off at the pass?”
Alistair chuckled. “Ye canna have all the fun. My men and I will leave shortly to see where they are headed. Likely no’ here.” Alistair glanced at Rhiannon. “Would your brother know about Dunbais by chance?”
Rhiannon shook her head. “I didn’t know about it, so I doubt he’ll have figured out there is a connection. My guess is that he’s on his way to Buanaiche, which he does know about.”
“See,” Alistair said to Ian, “Ye can be on your way without fear that they are headed here.”
Ian wanted to argue. A good fight was always a cure for what ailed him, and right now, thoughts of Rhiannon and his future ailed him plenty.
“I’ve already taken the liberty of having cook prepare ye provisions, and our stable master is preparing your horses. Do ye want to take some men with ye?”
Ian shook his head. “Nay. ’Tis easier to pass unnoticed with the two of us. We’ll be at Buanaiche in a few days. There’s no way Adam and his army will beat us there. They dinna know the mountains as I do.”
Alistair glanced at Rhiannon and wiggled his brows. “I was also informed that Goosie has taken charge of the stables and slain many a mouse who wished to steal the horses’ oats. Any chance ye’ll part with her?”
Rhiannon smiled like a proud mother. “Unfortunately, nay, my laird. But if I ever find myself this way again, I will endeavor to allow her to serve your horses once more.”
Alistair grinned. “I hope we do see ye again, my lady. It has been a pleasure.”
An unsettling feeling lodged in Ian’s chest. Almost like…envy, not an emotion he was familiar with, but it was instantly recognizable.
Was Alistair flirting with Rhiannon? He glanced at them. There was an easy comfort between the two of them when conversing. Perhaps more than a slight pang of jealousy flowed through him. Ian frowned, feeling the pinch of pain in his head wiggle in warning, and forced his frown away.
“I would love that,” she said sweetly. “You and your people have been so kind to me.”
“We would not dream of anything else, my lady. Now, if ye’ll excuse me,” Alistair stood, grabbing another handful of bacon, “we’ve some English to fight off. Brother, I’ll be seeing ye.” Alistair grinned as they had when they were children, and he got to play a game while Ian had to remain behind to finish whatever bit of schooling he’d been resistant to.
