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By the time he finished describing the scene, Grant had to clear his tight throat. “You know the rest, Grandda. You and Nick found me. I don’t know how long it took, but it seemed forever.”
“We found ye almost right away,” Angus said. “But I have nae doubt it felt like forever. I wish I could have spared ye that sight, lad. I wish I could have spared all of ye so much.”
Grant shook his head. “If I’d listened to Da when he told me to stay behind, or even if I hadn’t said those terrible things to him, he might still be alive today.”
It had been an accident, of course, but there was no denying his actions had played a role. It was something he’d never get past.
Graeme crouched down in front of him, his gaze now almost stern. “Grant, it wasn’t your fault. You were only a little boy.”
“A little boy who disobeyed his father. If only I’d listened—”
“We all disobeyed Da at one time or another,” Graeme said. “It was practically my mission in life to drive the old man crazy. And Logan was a bloody master at it.”
“But it was different with me. Dalistenedto me. And I could get him to do things, at least sometimes. He let me take care of him.”
“The way yer always tryin’ to take care of the rest of us now?” Angus put in. “Like it’s yer job?”
Grant frowned at the sharp note in his grandfather’s voice. “I’m not sure what point you’re making, Grandda.”
“Mayhap the point that ye feel so responsible for the old laird’s death that ye have to make up for it. By tryin’ to keepusall safe.”
Graeme straightened up. “That does sound right, Grandda. He’s always trying to take care of everyone. Especially me—we all know that.”
“You’re my twin,” Grant protested. “I’m supposed to take care of you.”
“Do I look like I need taking care of?”
“At one point you did,” Grant said, feeling defensive.
“Well, those days are long gone,” Angus barked. “And I have news for ye, son, there was nothin’ ye could have done to save the old laird, anyway.”
“But—”
Angus jabbed his pipe at him, scattering tobacco on the floor. “Yer dad was on the path to ruin long before that sad night. He was set on killin’ himself, if not on a horse then with all his drinkin’. The drink would have taken longer, draggin’ us all down with him.” He let out a disgusted snort. “There be days where I wish yer dawasalive, so I could wring his neck for puttin’ ye all through hell, the nasty old bastard.”
Grant exchanged an astonished look with his twin. They’d never heard Angus talk of their father with anything but the respect due to a laird and one of the great clan chiefs of Scotland.
“And another thing. Who said ye were the old laird’s favorite?” Angus barked at Grant.
Graeme frowned. “I did. It was obvious.”
“Well, ye were wrong, ye booby. Nick was always his favorite. He couldna put a foot wrong with his father. And after yer mother’s death, yer da relied on Nick to keep everythin’ goin’. If ye want to feel sorry for anyone, save it for yer puir brother, not yer da.” Their grandfather shook his head in disgust. “Jinglebrains, the pair of ye.”
Grant threw a perplexed glance at his brother. Graeme shrugged, clearly as mystified as he was.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, Grandda,” Grant said.
Angus made a visible effort to control himself. “Ye had a terrible time of it, and I’m right sorry for that. All ye lads had a hard time. But what about how I felt, I ask? Did ye ever think about that?”
“Felt about our father’s death?” Graeme cautiously asked.
“No, about yer blessed mother. How do ye thinkIfelt after she died? She was my dear daughter, and my only child. And I’d already lost my Fiona, yer grandmother. To then lose my daughter . . .”
He broke off, muttering and making a show of knocking his pipe tobacco into the grate.
Widening his eyes, Graeme looked at Grant. “We are a pair of jinglebrains, aren’t we?”
“The worst, apparently.”
