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CHAPTER1

“Felix, where are ye?”The chilling shriek of a female voice cut right through Felix Quinn’s skull. “We ken ye’re here! Ye cannae hide from us!”

Shrill laughter followed, making him long to stuff his ears with candle wax. Having imbibed rather too much spiced wine last night to help him sleep, the sound was akin to a cannonball exploding beside him. Was peace and quiet so much to ask for?

“Oh, Felix! Come out, come out, wherever ye are!” A second voice, from a woman who should have known better, pierced his skull afresh.

He groaned as giddy footsteps echoed up the winding staircase that led to his tower hideaway. A study that he rarely used for its proper purpose. Most of the time, he went up there with the firm intention of writing correspondence or looking over the ledgers for his clan, but the view often robbed him of any diligence. He could lose hours up there without even realizing it, unless someone came searching for him.

“He’s like one of those pesky crows at Castle Millar,” the first voice said. “I am surprised he has nae built a nest and begun to roost.”

The second voice chuckled, but chided, “That is somewhat unkind, Sister.”

“Och, ye’re quite right—in order to roost, he would have to find himself a lady crow to roost with, and the chances of that are as narrow as this bothersome staircase,” the first voice retorted, belonging to the younger of Felix’s two sisters, Melissa.

Glaring at the tower door, which would likely burst open at any moment, Felix decided to give his position away. “Ye do realize that I can hear everythin’ ye’re sayin’, do ye nae?”

His sisters exploded with laughter, seconds before the door flew open to reveal their flushed, grinning faces. They looked alike in many ways, as siblings tended to do: all three of them possessed of the darkest brown hair that looked nearly as black as a raven’s feathers, and pale skin that refused to brown in the summer, turning red and then back to milky white. However, where Felix had the light brown eyes of their father, the sisters both had the green of their mother.

“Of course we do,” Melissa replied, chuckling. “We wouldnae say such mean things behind your back. What sort of monsters do ye think we are?”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Then, do ye also realize that this is nae yer home? Ye have yer own castle, Meredith, and ye have a charmin’ cottage, Melissa. So, why must ye treat Moore Castle,my Castle,as if it belongs to ye both?”

“What is yers is ours, dear brother, and what is ours is our own.” Melissa flashed a wink, clearly very proud of herself.

She had always been the most wayward of the three siblings, and though Felix had hoped that marriage and motherhood might calm her somewhat, the five or so years that she had been married and mothering had proven him wrong. As for Meredith, she continued to be the responsible and serious one. Indeed, none of the siblings would have been in that part of Scotland at all if it had not been for her and her arranged marriage to Ryder, the Laird of Millar.

“Did ye have a reason for disturbin’ me peace, or did neither of ye have anythin’ better to do to amuse yerselves?” Felix adored his sisters, but he enjoyed his solitude just a tiny bit more. Especially when his head was pounding.

Meredith produced a parcel from behind her back. “Breakfast, dear brother. John said he was worried ye were nae eatin’ and as there was plenty spare this mornin’ and our husbands have taken the bairns to the loch, we thought we’d pay ye a visit.”

“And when did John say this?” Felix bristled.

John Monroe was his Man-at-Arms, and most trusted friend. His only friend, in truth, so it did not sit well with Felix if John was telling tales of him to others.

The women exchanged a conspiratorial look, but it was Meredith who answered. “He came to the Castle a few days ago, to speak to Ryder about arrangin’ a hunt. I happened to see him first, and he mentioned that ye’d been missin’ yer meals.” She paused. “For ages after Melissa had her… unpleasantness, ye used to come to Castle Millar for yer breakfast and yer dinner, but then ye stopped, and I’ve fretted about ye starvin’ ever since, Felix.”

“I eat well enough, but I daenae have Mrs. MacDonald in my kitchens,” Felix replied. “The cook here does her best, but she has a knack for makin’ everythin’ taste the same.”

Melissa took the parcel from her sister and marched over. “Which is precisely why we’ve had Mrs. MacDonald make ye somethin’ delicious. There’s a wee pot of good broth, fresh bread, and some of her famous goat’s cheese in there.”

As Melissa set the parcel down on Felix’s writing desk and opened it up, lifting the lid of the clay pot, the mouthwatering waft set his stomach to growling. The savory aroma of the broth and the sweetness of the bread with the sour note of the goat’s cheese was all too much, making him realize that, actually, he was ravenous. Yet, he eyed the proffered goods warily.

“Why does this feel like a bribe of some kind?”

“Because ye’re on yer own so much that ye think a kindly gesture is somethin’ suspicious,” Melissa remarked, though her gaze flitted away.

Meredith was the one who wore guilt all over her face, however. “Can we nae do a nice thing for our brother?”

“Nae when ye cannae look me in the eyes as ye do it. What’s amiss here, Sister? I willnae touch a crumb of what ye’ve brought until ye tell me.” Felix’s throat began to scratch from speaking so much. Usually, he had no need to say more than a handful of words between dawn and dusk.

Meredith fidgeted with the pleats of her skirt. “There’s nay rush. Ryder and Angus willnae return to Castle Millar for hours, and we hoped to keep ye company until then.”

“Under what pretense? It seems strange that yer husbands would take the bairns to the loch without the pair of ye,” Felix pressed.

Despite his frosty demeanor to most of the outside world, there were not many things that he would refuse his sisters. After all they had been through, and with their father and mother gone, he had inherited that parental role to an extent.

“We’re nae plannin’ to overthrow ye, if that’s yer concern,” Melissa muttered, though it would not have been the first time that someone had made such an attempt.

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