Page 76 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

He met Hunter’s gaze and gave him a nod. “Hunter.”

“Evander,” Hunter acknowledged.

It seemed so long since their ‘bride swap’ treaty. The idea was that warring clans would betroth members of their clan to each other for a year, to force them out of fighting. The idea was that a laird would be more likely to uphold a peace treaty if his cousin or sister were betrothed to a laird he was thinking of fighting. Creighton, Hunter’s cousin, had betrothed himself to a Bryden woman of Evander’s choice, and in turn, Evander had taken Creighton’s cousin—Skye.

It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. In fact, everybody had openly acknowledged that the betrothals wouldn’t end in marriage. They were just for looks, really, to make a point that the peace treaties meant something.

It hadn’t quite turned out that way.

“Did ye have a safe journey?” Hunter asked, escorting his sister and brother-in-law toward the castle.

Various MacCrimmon men and servants were taking care of their escort, showing the horsemen the way to the stables and then to their lodgings.

“Safe and boring,” Skye sighed. “But we’re here now. I’m glad to see ye, Brother.”

He nodded and said nothing, noticing how Skye and Evander held hands, as if it were the easiest and most natural thing in the world.

Never thought I’d see the day when me sister was in love.

They reached the main doors, and Helena came forward, beaming, and wrapped her arms around Skye.

“I have missed ye, lass,” she breathed. “It’s good to see ye, Evander. Yer rooms are all ready, and we’ve prepared a wee supper for ye. Ye must be hungry and thirsty, after all.”

“That I am, Mother.”

“Oh, and we have guests,” she added. “Do ye remember me talking about an English friend of mine, Lady Pilbury?”

Skye frowned. “Vaguely.”

“Well, she’s here! And her companion is here too. A lovely girl. I reckon ye will be friends.”

Skye sniffed, drawing her cloak tighter around herself. “Friends? We’ll see.”

What did that mean?

Hunter decided not to dig deeper.

They moved inside in a procession, Helena with her arms wound around Skye, talking nonstop, Evander and Hunter following behind.

“There seems to be peace between the clans for now,” Evander murmured, glancing at Hunter out of the corner of his eye. “There’s talk about ye, though.”

“About me?”

“Ye havenae named an heir.”

Hunter shot him a quick look.

Evander knew about the vow, of course. It was one of the reasons why Hunter wasn’t asked to partake in the bride-swapping part of the treaty. Try as he might, he couldn’t figure out what Evander was thinking.

Evander kept his gaze straight ahead. His voice stayed neutral, his face blank.

“I’ll name one,” Hunter declared. “Me man-at-arms, Magnus, is a trustworthy fellow. He kens how to run a clan. He⁠—”

“He’s the same age as ye. Have ye missed the point of choosing someone to follow ye, lad? Ye need a proper heir.”

Hunter rounded on him. “Ye may have married me sister, but that doesnae give ye the right to meddle in me business. And daenae call me lad.”

Evander held his gaze for a moment, then lowered his eyes, nodding. “I didnae mean to upset ye,” he responded mildly.