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His mother walked in, surprising Duncan for a moment. His surprise was quickly followed by guilt, for he ought to have made it a priority, before now, to see her after what she had suffered last night.
“Mother,” Duncan suddenly stood.
“Please, Duncan,” she put out a hand. “Dinnae get up. I dinnae wish tae disturb ye when ye are working.”
“Ye are nae disturbing me,” he replied, moving around the desk toward her.
Kissing her on both cheeks, he led her to the chairs that faced the fireplace and when they were settled, he turned to her. “I must apologize, Mother. I ought tae have come tae see ye before nae. How are ye feeling today?”
She smiled gently and shook her head. “I am feeling as I feel any other day, my son. Ye worry tae much. Dinnae think I have nae seen the clashing of swords before last night.”
“Clashing of swords is one thing, Mother. Yer life at risk, is an entirely different circumstance,” Duncan pressed. “Are ye well? Did ye rest enough?”
She laughed then, for even he knew he was fussing too much. “Stop, Duncan. I dinnae blame ye for nae coming tae see me. From what I hear, ye have had yer hands quite full, what with the castle in such disarray and the gathering o’ the council. What decision was made at the meeting?”
“One ye likely already ken, Mother,” Duncan smiled at her knowingly. “For if yer little spies told ye o’ the meeting, they’re bound tae have told ye what went on within it.”
She took a deep breath and folded her hands on her lap. “And what conclusion have ye come tae?”
“The only conclusion I can, Mother. I must marry, for the good o’ the clan.”
“I see,” she said. From her tone, Duncan knew well she wanted to know more.
“But ye ken that already, didnae ye?” Duncan nodded. “Now yer interests lie with whom I am going tae choose,” Duncan deduced. “Well, I will put yer mind at rest, Mother, for it will nae be the woman ye have looked down upon since her arrival,” Duncan continued, his tone a little terser. “Even if she did protect ye and Keir from certain death.”
Duncan pushed himself from his chair and moved to the mantle, for he now struggled to look at her. Her judgment from the beginning had been unnecessary, yet even now, after what Elaine had done for her, his mother’s expression had not changed at the mention of her person.
“So, if nae her, then whom?” she asked, entirely ignoring his previous comment.
“I have written letters tae the local lairds,” he replied, gesturing to said letters sitting upon his desk. “There will be a feast at the castle, whereby I can ascertain from where I might find another wife.” His tone was abrasive now, but he knew it was not simply because of his mother. He had come to this decision for the safety of Elaine and for the sake of his own sanity. But even as he had written those letters, he had resented the fact that his hand was being forced by the actions of another.
“Ye dinnae sound entirely pleased that ye have tae choose a wife from the surrounding area, Duncan.”
“I’m nae exactly pleased that I have tae choose another wife at all, Mother. But ‘tis needed, and I must act in the best interests o’ the clan.”
She stood thenand moved behind the chairs, away from him and closer to the door. Her intent was clear, she had gotten what she was looking for.
“Yer father did the same, Duncan. We married for the security o’ the clans also,” she said, telling him what he already knew. “It may seem a dire situation at this moment, but I assure ye, it is nae all that bad. Yer father and I had a good life together. He was a good man and a good husband, and I tried tae be a good wife. One doesnae always need romantic love in a relationship for it tae be a strong union.”
“I’ll keep that in mind when making my choice, Mother,” he said sarcastically.
“Well, I will leave ye tae yer duties.” She turned toward the door, opened it, but halted suddenly in the doorway before turning back to look at him. “Och, one final thing,” she said, her eyebrows raised. “I assume with a new wife beside ye, ye’ll nae have the need for a mistress any longer, will ye?”
Duncan did not reply, but only stared at her. In his silence, she simply nodded and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
The dust of the chalk spread across the paper, tiny pieces breaking at each stroke Elaine made. Sitting at the desk in her bedchamber, she took a breath in and blew lightly across the parchment, clearing the excess chalk so as not to smudge the portrait. Though it was far from finished, Duncan’s face slowly began to take shape, the arch of his brow, the line of his jaw, and the jagged scar down his left cheek. There had been no word from the mystery man since the invasion. Elaine had slowly allowed the feelings she had for Duncan to grow, oftentimes, forgetting the reason she came to the castle in the first place.
Not hearing any further instructions from the wicked man who still held her sister captive, she had little choice but to remain in the castle, for she doubted his goal had changed. When he had last met her at the outer walls and told her he would cause a distraction, Elaine had imagined he would somehow contact her again to try and garner the ring. Yet, she had heard nothing. It made her wonder if he somehow knew she had failed in her endeavor. But how could that possibly be the case? As the days had passed, she had accepted that she had no choice but to wait for him to summon her again, for there was little else she could do.
Meanwhile, when Duncan did not requireher company, she had resorted to spending most of her time in her bedchamber. Apart from strolling around the castle's lesser-known areas, there was little point in going anywhere else, given that she was clearly not welcome. Shehad grown accustomed to her own company, spending her time embroidering, reading books, and sketching, seeing others only when she went out to eat.
A light knock on her bedchamber door took Elaine’s attention away from the portrait before her, and lifting her head, she wondered who it might be. It was not Duncan; his knock was louder, firmer. Looking back at the drawing before her, she quickly turned it over and slipped it into the drawer of her desk. Whomever it was, she did not want them to see it.
“Come in,” she called, turning and standing to face the visitor as the door opened.
Elaine was not quick enough to hide her surprise when Lady MacDougall appeared in the doorway and took one single step into the room. By the older woman’s own expression—a small, strained smile and a nod—there was a conveyance that she felt discomfort at being there, if not guilt.
