“Forgive me, me Laird,” he ventured, “but now that it’s safe, will our Lady return?”
Evander swallowed, tightening his grip on his sword. “I daenae ken. Probably nae.”
The man deflated a little and shuffled back, crestfallen.
Evander turned, meeting Fergus’s eyes. His man-at-arms remained as alert and stoic as ever, lifting his eyebrows in question.
Evander jerked his chin toward Andrew’s body. “Clean up this mess, will ye? I need a drink.”
Skye tumbled out of the litter. She was so tired she could hardly move. Her limbs had gone stiff, joints aching. She hardly dared ask how her mother was feeling.
Twilight had turned the world into a sketch, draining the color and adding charcoal-black smudges of shadow in every corner. In the courtyard of Keep MacCrimmon, however, torches blazed, filling the space with an angry yellow light.
A few soldiers were waiting, and of course, Hunter stood in the middle, his arms folded tightly. At his nod, several servants hurried forward, ready to help Helena out of the litter.
Skye found herself surplus to requirements, standing awkwardly off to the side, watching the servants expertly maneuver her mother down to the ground.
“So ye are back, then,” Hunter murmured, materializing at her side. “Is it going to be war?”
“War?” Skye shuddered. “Nay, I hope nae. Why should it be?”
“He sent ye back like a parcel, with a few soldiers to guard ye.” Hunter sniffed, wrinkling his nose at the litter. “Didnae even come himself.”
She clenched her jaw. “Ye daenae understand.”
“Are ye going to explain? Are ye going to help me understand?”
Without warning, her throat tightened, tears pricking at her eyes. Angrily, she swiped the back of her hand across her face.
Had Hunter noticed?
A quick glance up at his face showed that he was staring off rigidly into the distance, where their mother was being helped up the front steps. She, of course, knew the whole story. Notallof it, not the intimate moments, but the rest of it.
Knowing her mother, Skye wouldn’t have been surprised if she hadguessed that, too.
“I’m sorry, lass,” Hunter murmured, still not looking at her. “I can write to him. I can visit.”
“Nay, daenae. I havenae been sent off in disgrace. This is… This is how it was always going to end,” she sniffed, lifting her chin. “I’m glad to be home, Hunter. I’m nae a failed wife being senthome in disgrace. I want ye to uphold the treaty. I daenae want war.”
“Nor do I, but the insult to ye?—”
“There’s no insult,” she interrupted tiredly. “No insult at all. It’s nae like that. Besides, I havenae even told ye about Mason.”
Hunter stiffened. “What has Mason done?”
“Oh, he’s been a prize fool. For now, though, I want to take some fresh air and stretch me legs. I’m just so… so tired. I’m so tired, and I’m sick of that litter. I’m sick of everything. Sick of me, sick of this place, sick ofthatplace. Sick ofeverything, Hunter.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“Aye, I ken how that feels,” he sighed. “Tired. Ye are tired, but daenae fret. Ye will go back to yer room; I’ve got it all ready for ye.”
“Maither’s tired. The journey was hard for her.”
“I’ve got healers all ready. I ken how to take care of Ma. Just… Just take care of yerself, Skye, please.”
She let out a long, ragged breath and closed her eyes
“I’ll do me best,” she mumbled. “Come on. Let’s get inside.”
He wrapped his arm wordlessly around her shoulder, and they trudged off toward the keep.
