Did she think he’d forgive himself? What had this day brought him? He leaned his elbows against the bed and rubbed his face. Nothing. This day brought him nothing. No battle. Noland. No wife. His friend at death’s door. He came here to prove himself. To prove his worth to his father. He’d started to hope and now he had less than he came with.
‘I don’t ask for forgiveness,’ she said. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’
He remembered the moment she knocked the goblet out of his hand. She’d also worked tirelessly fingering and identifying his friend’s vomit while Lochmores and McCrieffs yelled and pointed fingers. Still, she was not without blame. ‘Your clan has done something wrong.’
She gasped. ‘We don’t know that.’
‘You think Lochmores could have poisoned one of their own?’ Rory looked over his shoulder. The woman was sitting cross-legged on the chair with a pillow in her lap.
Her hair had fallen loose when she tended Paiden in the hall, she’d discarded the cut gown when the woman, Hannah, brought in another. Though she had thrown the new gown over her head, she had never bound it and the brown fabric swirled around her.
With her red hair and her fine features she looked fey. As though a sprite had entered the room.
‘Are you saying Lochmores never harm Lochmores?’ She arched her brow. When he remainedsilent, she continued. ‘That’s what I thought. It’s certainly feasible that a Lochmore would harm a Lochmore to start a war between us.’
‘We are already enemies—throwing kindling on a roaring fire is futile.’ He turned a bit more so he could see her fully. ‘You can’t possibly believe a Lochmore harmed one of his own?’
When her lips tightened and she remained silent, he repeated her words, ‘That’s what I thought.’
He turned around. Paiden was still as silent as a grave. He wanted to beg for him not to die like this. Not here on McCrieff ground without a sword in his hand. But there was a McCrieff at his back and he wouldn’t give her the pleasure of seeing his grief or his anger.
He didn’t trust her though he allowed her to tend Paiden and he’d locked them in the room together. A risky move if he wanted to annul their betrothal later. He’d seen the calculation and cunning in Frederick’s eyes as he, too, recognised Rory’s actions, but Rory hadn’t cared at the time—his immediate concern was his friend.
He cared now as the hours went by and his friend didn’t wake. More and more he didn’t want to tie himself to this clan. To the falsity here. He had sensed a trap, he had sensed wrongness and still he’d agreed.
Now he was here. It was still day, but they had been alone for hours, the tension between them palpable. She’d warned him that there was nothing to do but wait, but he’d never had patience nor had he had to learn.
Ailsa, on the other hand, sat quietly in a chair. There were shadows under her eyes that weren’t there before. Had Paiden’s poisoning put those shadows there or did something else concern her and cause sleeplessness? He suspected both. There was...duplicity here.
After all, though she argued Lochmores could harm Lochmores, it was a feeble attempt. She, too, suspected McCrieffs would harm Lochmores despite inviting them to their table. More confusing yet, she seemed surprised by that.
Her father, too. Despite the betrayal in the Hall, her father still wanted them married. Right now, Rory wanted to bundle Paiden on a horse and get them out of here.
His only consolation was that he’d sent notice to his father of the illness and his agreement to marry. Maybe he would receive counsel back.
Because though he wanted to leave, he couldn’t. Paiden was far too ill to move. Marry a McCrieff? As if he would. As if he could now. Except the longer Paiden stayed quiet the more aware he was of her. She wasn’t resting now,her eyes no doubt on his turned back. Watching him breathe as he watched his friend breathe. He didn’t need to be told, but Paiden wasn’t waking soon. Rory could feel it. His friend was next to him, but he was somewhere far away. He wanted him back.
And though he didn’t trust her, there was no one else to confer with. ‘Who did this to him?’ Rory said.
‘I don’t know.’
‘It happened in your Hall, with your wine—don’t tell me you don’t know.’
‘I don’t—’ She sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter what I say, you won’t believe me anyway.’
Was that true? No. Because he had locked them in the room together. He trusted her enough to care for his friend. Some small bit inside him trusted her. ‘I do.’
‘That doesn’t make sense. There’s no reason for you to.’
She questioned his sanity. He did to.
‘You’re direct, aren’t you?’ he said instead of answering her question. The truth was he didn’t know the reasons. Not fully. He’d known this woman for mere hours, but he’d seen her in the shadows of the doorway, watched her pretend to descend the stairs for the first time to the hall. Since then they’d been in constant disagreement.
‘Yes,’ she replied.
He wanted to laugh—even that was blunt and to the point. ‘Headstrong. Stubborn. Determined.’ If they could talk about something, anything else, maybe he’d get through these first moments until Paiden woke. He needed his friend to wake.
‘Why are you talking to me?’ she asked. ‘Why did you leave me in here and order everyone else out?’
