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“We thought he was dead,” Roan said.
The four other Picts at the table ate as Roan spoke, though their eyes often darted around, alert and ready.
“Then I realized there was life left in the fallen warrior and that I knew him. He was the Highlander warrior who had come to our village to see about the injured woman Mercy, and so we brought him home.”
“For which we are eternally grateful,” Carmag acknowledged. “There were no signs of his attackers?”
“None that we could discern,” Roan said.
“Had you seen any signs of another’s presence in the area?” Bryce asked.
“The king’s men have been seen more often than usual. Thieves have been more prevalent of late, and more clans seem to be uniting. The wind of change is decisively in the air.”
“That it is,” Carmag agreed. “And again we are grateful that you brought Trey home to us. And you are welcome to seek shelter and food here for as long as you need.”
Roan nodded. “Thank you, but as soon as the storm lessens, we will depart. How is Trey doing?”
“Only time will tell,” Carmag said.
Reeve knew as did his family that they would not know what happened to Trey until he woke and explained it all. And his father was right, only time would tell if Trey survived.
Mara saw that blankets were provided for the Picts to bed down in the great hall for the night. Afterwards, she had plans to sit through the night beside her son.
“You get some sleep,” Mara ordered Tara. “In case you are needed.”
“I’ll look in on Trey first,” Tara said.
“Then I’ll see that she’s settled in my bedchamber,” Reeve said.
Mara sent him a scowl. “Make sure you’re quick about it.”
Reeve nodded, though his brothers both grinned at him.
Reeve wasn’t surprised when Duncan followed him and Tara to Trey’s bedchamber and went straight to his wife’s side once there.
“I’m fine,” Mercy assured him. “The rest has done me good, I’m hungry.”
“Mum is coming to sit with Trey for the night,” Duncan said. “I’ll have food brought to our bedchamber.”
Reeve watched relief spread across his brother’s face when Mercy had acknowledged her hunger. He hadn’t, when first learning of Duncan’s love for Mercy, understood how he could have allowed a woman to possibly interfere with their mission. He had even reprimanded Duncan for it, reminding him that they had agreed that nothing, absolutely nothing, would stand in the way of them seeing the true king seated on the throne.
Now, however, he could relate to Duncan’s conundrum. When love struck, it could not be ignored.
Love.
That word haunted him like a ghost who refused to accept death. Was he refusing to believe that he was falling in love? He glanced over at Tara, her attention fully focused on his brother. Her black ringlets drooped around her face, and her lovely eyes held a mixture of concern and exhaustion. He wanted to scoop her up and rush her to his room, tuck her in bed, and make certain she slept.
He almost laughed aloud. He had to be falling in love. He was more concerned with her well-being than he was with his own needs, with bedding her. But then he didn’t simply want to bed her; that he could do with any willing woman. He wanted more with and from Tara, and he wanted to find out just what thatmorewas.
Reeve saw that Tara’s hand lingered on Trey’s face, going from his forehead, to his cheeks, and she even rested her hand on his neck.
“Has he a fever?” Reeve asked worried.
“Does he?” Duncan asked with even more anxiety, Mercy clutching her husband’s hand and her eyes filling with concern.
“He’s as warm as he was before,” Tara said.
“Is that good or bad?” Reeve asked.
