“Can you rise, Wilkie?” I was familiar enough now to identify this speaker as Laird Mackenzie. “Storms have been brewing. There’s much to discuss.”
“What storms?” asked Wilkie.
That I could hear their voices even through the wooden barrier between the two chamber rooms was somewhat distressing. I didn’t want to eavesdrop, yet I had little choice. These were big, tough, important men, and they had no compunction to speak in quieted tones. I could distract myself. I took off my robe and slid the new shift Ailie and Christie had left for me over my head. It fit perfectly. I slipped on the yellow gown, and I adjusted it to fit my shape. It fit me almost too snugly in the chest—somewhat more low-cut than I was used to—and slightly more loosely at the waist. But it was a beautiful dress, draping gracefully in generous folds to the floor. I smoothed my hair, reattaching the pins, and I put on my old, worn boots, which I was glad to see were covered by the material of the dress I wore. Despite my attempts to block out the men’s conversation, I heard every word of it as I fitted my new outfit into place.
After a lengthy pause, the laird said, “Sit, brother. You’re still woozy. We can talk here.” I wondered if Wilkie had tried to rise and pained himself. I wished I could return to him, but I knew it was not my place to interrupt them.
“I can’t say I’ve ever seen you quite so content to remain bedridden, brother,” commented Kade. “Usually you’d be back at the yards by now, barking orders at everyone within earshot.”
Wilkie exhaled a soft chuckle. “Aye. It seems I’m uncommonly comfortable in this particular sickbed.”
“Be that as it may,” the laird interrupted, as though the topic annoyed him, “the sooner you’re on your feet again, the better. Ogilvie’s men approached our guards on the day of Roses’s arrival, and severaldifferent search parties have visited since then, some more than once. Inquiring, as it were, about a lass with distinctive blond hair, and wearing the clothing of men at last sighting. Laird Ogilvie is most interested in having her returned to him, and promptly. His men scour the Highlands for her.”
The mention of Ogilvie’s name jolted me. I knew he would search for me. But still, to hear it described in Laird Mackenzie’s war-hardened voice, it jarred me. In Wilkie’s arms, I had felt safe and comforted, protected. But there were no guarantees. Wilkie was not the foremost decision-maker in this keep, after all; Laird Mackenzie was.
Wilkie’s reply was stiff and laced with anger. “And what did you tell them?”
When the laird continued, his voice contained traces of forced composure, as though trying to mollify Wilkie’s reaction or expression. “I sent them away,” the laird said evenly. “I told them we had seen no one by that description. But I would prefer not to be spinning lies. Or to be harboring a fugitive who has inspired a most fervent search by Ogilvie. His guards spoke of his bloodlust. He wants the lass found immediately and has threatened to kill members of his search party if she is not returned to him. ’Tis a potentially volatile situation, as she was seen by a number of people in and around our keep. Word has a way of finding its way to wherever it wants to go.”
“Fugitive,” Wilkie repeated, as though the word left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Kade relayed the information I had given them earlier. “She’s a kitchen servant of Ogilvie’s, Wilkie. She stabbed him with a kitchen knife when he—”
“I’m aware of all that,” Wilkie said, cutting him off. “She told me of it herself.”
“She’s a thief and a liability,” said Laird Mackenzie. “If we harbor her here, and Ogilvie gets wind of it, he’ll stop at nothing to retrieve her. Including storming our keep. His guard so much as confirmed it.”
“Then we fight Ogilvie,” said Wilkie bluntly. “We defend what’s ours. He has no claim on her.”
“In fact, he does,” said the laird. “She’s notours,Wilkie. She’s one of his clan.”
“Who he’s bound by duty, therefore, to protect,” Wilkie countered. “If he fails in his honor by attacking her virtue, then he forfeits all rights to her.”
There was a brief bout of silence then, as though something was being considered.
“I propose we escort her to Macduff,” Kade suggested. “If—”
“She stays with me,” Wilkie said, a fierce quiet determination coloring his words.
“Wilkie—” the laird began.
“She’s mine,” Wilkie interrupted.
“You intend to keep her as a mistress, brother?” asked the laird. “You do realize a contingent of Morrison’s five daughters and two nieces arrive in less than a week as our guests, to be presented to you as prospective brides. Laird Morrison is ailing and wants a younger replacement, and he has no sons. He also rules one of the largest landholdings in the Highlands. Adjacent to our own.”
“I’m aware of Morrison’s credentials, Knox,” said Wilkie steadily. “What I’m not certain of, though, is why you feel the need to incessantly list them to me.”
“You will be master of your own keep, Wilkie,” thelaird continued. “And expand the Mackenzie name and holdings in the process.”
“It seems I have four siblings to assist me in that very endeavor,” countered Wilkie, and his voice was gentler when he said, “Two years have passed, Knox. ’Tis time for you to remarry. I can honor my duty as a Mackenzie by swearing my allegiance to my brother and defending my clan’s keep just as effectively as I can by marrying a Morrison.”
“In fact,” said the laird, “you can honor your duty as a Mackenzie by securing the alliance of our army with that of a potentially strong neighboring army. Your allegiance to your brother—and your laird—requires you to act with the best interests of your clan in mind. And those interests include marrying a daughter of Laird Morrison.”
“You and Kade can feast at the Morrison buffet. I have no interest in any of those heifers.” That Wilkie’s insolence was even tolerated by the laird made it seem more apparent than ever before that these brothers shared a bond that went deeper than many. Wilkie’s disagreement in the face of his brother’s clear orders was, for the moment, indulged. But I couldn’t help but wonder if Wilkie’s refusals would carry much weight. I admit that I felt distressed by this overheard conversation, but I had no expectations beyond my next encounter with Wilkie. I had no plans but to learn to read. I had no hopes but for one more kiss.
“You weren’t quite so disparaging of one of those heifers—Maisie, was it?—last time we visited their keep and met at least some of them,” Kade mused. “I do recall the two eldest were not in attendance that weekend. Yet the rest of them were.”
“Which is why I can emphatically confirm that I am not interested,” Wilkie retorted.
