Her throat tightened and tears stung her eyes. Elspeth could only shake her head, imagining her own precious son in such a deadly situation.
"The boy's father was near destroyed at the news of his death and demanded recompense," Cyrus said. "The foster parents had to pay a high fine, which nearly ruined them. My father took me back home. 'Twas the thing I wanted most in the world, but I would've never wished to lose my friend. When the other lairds and chiefs learned what happened, they removed their sons as well. Most of the Comyn clan's alliances were severed, leaving them vulnerable. Even though Ben was only thirteen summers at the time, he was old enough to know better."
"Of course." She clenched her hands, still jittery from the unexpected emotion. "Where is he now?"
"Last I heard, he had inherited the chiefdom of that small branch of the Comyn Clan. After the slaying, they retained their land, but they had to find another overlord protector."
"'Tis so tragic about Patrick." Elspeth was unable to believe how the story of a lad she didn't know could tear at her soul so sharply. "Just imagining my son in that situation is agonizing."
Cyrus nodded, his tormented gaze clinging to hers. "Tell me of your son. What is he like?"
She wiped the moisture from her eyes and tried to put the tragedy from her mind. "Adam is so bright, wise, and very mature for his age. With his ginger hair and light brown eyes, he favors me a great deal. He's always been very responsible, even when he was much smaller."
"He sounds exceptional."
Feeling proud, she sat up straighter. "I think he will make a great laird someday. He's very industrious and hardworking. His tutors say he is advancing quickly. Although I miss him dreadfully, I knew 'twas time for him to learn at school. I'd taught him all I could, and I didn't want to hold him back."
"'Tis admirable."
"I'm so grateful he isn't here now."
"Does Dalacroy know of his existence?" Cyrus asked.
"I don't know. I hope not. Because of all the children of nobles and lairds who attend the private school, 'tis well protected behind walls, with locked gates and guards."
"He should be safe." Cyrus hoped to ease her mind so she could get some rest tonight. He planned to stop Dalacroy and his men tomorrow, one way or another. If the rest of the MacKenzies arrived, 'twould be far easier and quicker. But if they didn't, he would disable the blackguards one at a time, as he had done earlier that night. He would keep that to himself for now, so Elspeth wouldn't worry.
He hoped he hadn't upset her too much by telling her of Patrick's murder. He hadn't talked about the lad in years, although he thought of him anytime he experienced a loss or failed to protect someone. Elspeth possessed a compelling warmth that had caused him to blather on too much. She seemed interested and as if she understood.
The wine had likely loosed his tongue as well, he realized as he set the empty bottle aside and got to his feet. "I'm going to drag the cupboard back into place."
After he'd done that and closed the door, he spread out the cloak on the packed dirt floor. 'Haps he should not say what he was about to, for many reasons, but 'twas what felt the most natural. And he hoped she would not object. "Come, lie down here beside me so you can get warm and sleep."
Her gaze both questioning and interested, she arose from the stool. "Will you sleep, too?"
"If I can." And he hoped he could, for tomorrow would likely be a difficult day with much fighting. He would do everything in his power to keep her safe. "Are you still hungry?"
"Nay, I'm fine." She lay down on the cloak.
When an unwelcome bolt of arousal struck him, he glanced away, attempting to rein in his urges. How the devil could he lie beside her, control himself and sleep? He did not ken if 'twould be possible.
"I'll try to find you some breakfast in the morn." He forced himself to focus on her well-being.
"Mayhap I can convince Mistress Brown to provide us something."
"Aye, she should have some bannocks or porridge, at least."
"If not, there are more carrots," she quipped.
Cyrus felt a grin tugging at his lips. "I don't care if I never see another raw carrot." He released the upper part of his belted plaid from the penannular brooch. He needed to use the wool fabric to keep her warm, but the very idea of sharing body heat quickened his blood.
"Goodness, I think I had too much wine," she mused. "The room is spinning."
That was far more than he needed to know. He couldn't take advantage of a cupshoten woman, he decided as he joined her. "Maybe 'twill go away if you lie still."
"Aye."
He covered her arms and torso with part of his plaid. "Are you cold?"
