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“But nothing did,” Fergus soothed her. “Mother, don’t fret. All is well. I have to speak to Robert, that is all so that I can put matters to rest between him and me.”
“What has happened to Robert?” Lady Alison asked, shaking her head in puzzlement. “He is not the boy, the youth, the young man I used to know. I confronted him once before, Fergus, but to be honest, I am afraid to do it again.” She looked scared and mystified. “He was always such a good lad. Now, look at him!”
Fergus felt his heart swell with love and pity. His mother had always been his best friend, and, he supposed, always would be, but now he had Grace. He thought he should have been a little afraid that the two women would not take well to one another, but as he watched them smile at each other, his intuition told him that he had nothing to fear. Now he had two best friends. There would always be problems in life, but now that he had the unwavering support of two good women, he felt immeasurably stronger; Robert had no such advantage.
“Where is Robert?” he asked at last. He was dreading this encounter with his brother, but he had to go through with it, the faster the better.
“In his bedchamber,” Lady Alison answered dully. “Where he usually is these days.”
Fergus frowned. “Not in his study?” he asked curiously. “He is usually with the horses or the books at this time of day, Mother.”
Lady Alison put her hands over her face for a moment. “After the argument you and he had about Grace, I went to see him in his study. He was flushed bright red, swearing, and breathless. He had wrecked all the furniture and ornaments in the room except his desk, which he had taken to his chamber. He is working from there.”
“But there are dozens of other rooms he could use.” Fergus was puzzled.
“I think he’s ashamed,” Lady Alison said. “He is having all his meals sent up to him too. As soon as I threw off my mourning clothes, I was going to begin dining with you again, but then I found that there was no one to dine with. I don’t understand what I have done wrong. Have I been such a bad mother?”
She looked at Fergus with such sadness in her eyes, that his stomach clenched with fury. Robert had a lot to answer for!
“No, Mother,” he answered as he kissed her forehead. “You are the best mother a man could wish for, and always have been. This is my brother’s fault.”
As they moved upstairs, Lady Alison came with them, but it was not until he reached Robert’s room that Fergus realized that William, Callum, and the two guards had accompanied them too.
They stopped outside the chamber door and Fergus knocked loudly. His heart was hammering at the thought of seeing Robert again. He knew that he would have to exercise every ounce of self-restraint he possessed to stop himself from striking him. He had not realized that his fists were clenched until he felt Grace touch them gently. She prised his fingers open a little and slid her hands inside his grasp. Fergus closed his eyes and sighed, then smiled down at her.
“Keep your hand in mine,” she whispered. “Don’t do anything foolish, Fergus.”
At that moment, the door opened. Robert stood there, and they watched his jaw drop and his face turn pale as he took in the sight of his brother, alive, well, and holding the hand of the woman he had hoped to marry.
He tried to say something, but he was so shocked that even though his lips moved, no sound came out.
Grace squeezed Fergus’s hand in a silent reminder to him to control his temper, and he stepped through the door, slowly pushing his brother backward into the bedroom, all the while holding his gaze with his own.
However, William and Callum were behind both of them and had just stepped over the threshold when Fergus turned his head and saw them out of the corner of his eye.
“No. Will, Cal,” he said firmly. “Grace and I will do this alone, at least for the moment.”
“Are you sure, Fergus?” William asked, but he was unable to say more, as Fergus shut the door firmly in his face.
They turned to face Robert.
23
The two brothers stood looking at each other for a long while before Robert, not taking his eyes off Fergus, crept behind the desk that stood beside the fireplace of the big room. This put the desk between them. It was a cowardly act, but one that was not out of character for Robert.
“So, brother dear,” Fergus said, his words dripping with sarcasm, “what do you have to say for yourself? Can you give me one good reason why I should not flatten your nose right this minute, then pound you into the floor with my fists? Because you know that I can if I want to, and at this moment I want to very, very much.” His voice was throbbing with fury.
Robert dropped his gaze to the desk in front of him. He could see his brother’s eyes glaring at him, hard and cold as chips of flint. He could think of nothing to say, since Fergus had spoken the truth. He was perfectly capable of breaking every one of Robert’s bones, and he knew that he had given his brother plenty of reasons to do just that. However, the more he looked at Fergus, the angrier he became, and his anger gave him a desperate kind of courage.
Fergus was not ready to let Robert speak, however. “What you did to me was barbaric,” he began, “but I can forgive that. There are certain conditions, though. You must stop preparing for war—yes, I saw the blacksmith in the village making swords for you. I saw bowyers cutting saplings for arrows, and I heard that you have a shipment of muskets on its way. You see, Rob, you are not the only one with spies. I have no spies, but I have ears and people talk to me—out of respect, not fear. I like the common people, and I think—I hope—they like me too.”
Fergus let go of Grace’s hand and walked around the desk to face Robert again, then reached out to pull his brother closer, so that they were only a few feet away from each other. “You can’t hide behind that desk forever, Rob.” Fergus’s voice was grim. “Now, here are the rest of my conditions: all the families in the area know what you are planning, because you have not exactly been hiding it, have you? Everyone is prepared to fight back against you.”
“Ha!” Robert threw back his head and laughed contemptuously. “The Pattersons, whose castle is the size of our kitchens? The Buchans, whose Laird is about a hundred years old? How is he going to inspire men? The Armstrongs, whose defenses I could demolish single-handedly? I could go on and on, but I think I have made my point. We are the most powerful family in the district, and the land that those other clans sit on, is ours by right.”
“Why is that?” Fergus asked, his brow furrowed in a frown. “Those families own their land, and have done so for hundreds of years. Why do we have any right to it? Our father didn’t think so.”
“Our father was weak, and had no ambition,” Robert answered scathingly. “He would never have tried to advance our family because he had no fighting spirit.”
