Lyon was strangely touched by the sentiment. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” he said gruffly past the lump in his throat.
His brother seemed to understand. “Ye’re welcome,” he said cheerfully. “Is that a crack in the plaster? We need to have that looked at.”
Squinting, Lyon followed the younger man’s pointing finger. There was, indeed, a small crack in the plaster ceiling. “What are we doing now, then?”
“Looking at it,” Keith agreed.
There was a sound by the entrance to the lower story, and Lyon managed to turn his head far enough to see Phineas and Lysander troop up the steps and stop dead upon seeing the two men stretched out on the floor.
“Whatareye two doing?” Lysander finally called out, amusement in his voice.
“Examining the ceiling,” Lyon supplied the excuse with a dry tone.
“Together,” Keith added. “Because that’s what we’re doing. No’ that Lyon was knocked unconscious or anything.”
“Ye’re terrible at subterfuge,” Lyon growled under his breath.
His two brothers strolled across the great hall. Phineas’s head was craned upward, as if he too was interested in the ceiling. But Sander’s hands were in his pocket, and he seemed only a few moments away from whistling.
He stopped beside Lyon and nudged him with the toe of his shoe. “Why are ye really there?” He nudged again.
“Ow,” growled Lyon, shying away. “Stop that. It hurts.”
Sander poked him again. “Then sit up and talk to me.”
“I can talk fine lying down.” Lyon’s head was still pounding.
“And it’s difficult to examine the ceiling without lying down,” Phineas agreed, dropping to his arse on Keith’s other side and gently lowering himself to his back on the stones. “What are we looking at?”
The younger man pointed. “That crack up there. I suggested we have someone come look at it.”
“We’re looking at it now,” Phin pointed out.
“Someone who kens something about plaster. Unless ye’ve taken a job as a plasterer and I dinnae ken it?”
Phineas sniffed. “I’ve studied enough ancient plaster, I’m sure I could manage to fix something modern. I remember once, while excavating astupaalong the Narmada River in India, I helped my foreman build a unique type of scaffolding I’m certain would be tall enough and stable enough to work in this?—”
Lysander, tired of the discussion, rolled his eyes and interrupted. “I verra much doubt ye’re lying there discussing plaster. Now, these trousers are newly tailored, and I’m no’ about to plant my arse on the dirty floor just to get some answers, so start talking!”
Keith glanced at Lyon, and the oldest brother couldseethe indecision behind those hazel eyes. He didn’t want Phin and Lysander to know he’d managed to knock Lyon down.
“We’ve been discussing how much Lyon misses Miss Bonnie,” Keith blurted, and Lyon closed his eyes on a groan.
He would’ve rather his brothers ken he’d been knocked on his arse than think he waspining.
But Phin clucked his tongue as he sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees. “Oh, is that all?”
And Sander exhaled, as if in relief. “Thank God. I thought Bonnie was going to cry when I drove her away from thisplace, and there was nothing I could say to console her, because I assumed ye didnae care for her.”
“I—” But Lyon had the sense to cut himself off before he confessed hedidcare for the woman.
Sander began to pace. “I’ve had tolivewith the poor lass for the last week, Lyon. She’s put on a brave front, of course, but her heart has been breaking.”
“When did ye become a romantic?” Disgusted at his brothers—and himself—Lyon swallowed down the pain and pushed himself upright, resting his weight on his hands. “Or so maudlin?”
But Sander merely grinned and shrugged. “Since I fell madly in love with my wife. She’s doing fine, by the way, thank ye for asking.”
“Olive is well, too,” Phin interrupted. “She’s visiting her family in Hearthwell.”
