“Aye.” Ethan leaned forward, and his eyes drifted to the window where the pink dawn was transforming into a lovely azure sky. “Aye, I can accept that.” He dragged his gaze away and looked squarely at his father. “Finley was seeking to get married, too, but all the matches for him that we found, he turned them away. Are ye going to need me to get married before I take the Lairdship on?”
Balgair sighed heavily and reached for a quill that he twiddled in his fingers. “I won’t force ye, as our time for ye to be trained will be relatively short, but if ye happen to find love or a woman ye ken is fitting, along the way, I willnae object. Speaking of, thank ye for keeping Miss O’Cain away from the investigation. Her faither told me that she tends to get a bit too immersed in all his cases.”
Ethan held back a snicker. Immersed was right considering what he and Violet had done the day before.
“She is… stitched from another cloth than the one most women are made of,” he added with a straight face. “I like her free spirit and good sense.”
“Aye, I agree,” Balgair nodded. “For such a young tender age, she has a maturity I’ve never seen.”
“And can hold onto her innocence despite all she had seen over the years,” Ethan added, and at the father’s questioning look, explained. “She told me that she’s been through brothels, slums, and met with the worst of the worst. She said she has to keep in mind that what she and her faither are doing is for the benefit of those who need them, and that she cannot allow that darkness and horror she’s been through to turn her away from that path.”
“Seems like ye two have made a bond,” the Laird noted. “That’s good; keep her occupied while her faither and I go about solving Finley’s killing.”
“I ken I’ll take her to the village this evening,” Ethan mused. “I dinnae ken if she’s been in many highland towns before this one. She does live in Inverness, but she told me she’s been through the lowlands and the cities all her life on cases. I ken she’d like to see the cliffs where the waterfalls flow over and perhaps a ride through the field.”
“Ye dae that,” Balgair nodded. “Keep her occupied while we do the dirty work.”
“Last night, we came in very late because I took her too far in the hills. Mister O’Cain was getting very anxious about the hour. If we do come in late again tonight, please assure him that she will be very safe with me,” Ethan requested. “I will never let anything happen to her or cause her to be in danger. If ye would let Mister O’Cain ken that, I hope his mind will be on the issue at hand and nay going between it and overly worrying his daughter.”
“He will be worrying,” was his reply. “But I can dae a little to assuage his fear. Ye are a good fighter and defender, Ethan. I’ve seen ye on the training field. Barring Mister O’Cain seeing ye doing the same, I ken ye will protect Miss O’Cain and I’ll make sure he kens it too.”
Standing, Ethan nodded. “I’ll see ye this evening.”
After passing through a few corridors, he paused in the middle of the stairs to survey the hall below, which was filled with people making quick work of the heaped platters of food that had taken the servants hours to prepare. A frisson of unease went up his spine when he did not see Violet amongst them.
He stopped halfway and scanned the room once more before spinning in place and traipsing to Violet’s room. He wanted to check there before going to see if she was in the kitchens. He arrived at the door and knocked before a quiet “enter” was uttered.
Violet was sitting at the edge of her made bed with a peculiar look on her face. An unruly lock of dark hair was curling near her eyes. He had the strangest desire to sweep it away with his finger but kept his hand at his side.
Quietly closing the door behind him, he asked, “Good mornin’, are ye well? Have ye eaten?”
She nodded but the quietness he felt coming from her was not one he would have expected. “May I sit with ye?” With her nod, he sat beside her. “Is something bothering ye?”
“Aye,” she murmured. “Yer brother’s murder is tugging at me. I cannae say that I’ve ever seen anything like this before. It is particularly troubling to me. And I suspect the talk ye had with yer faither, if ye did have it—” he nodded, “—was about ye taking up the position yer brother left. Forgive me if I’m mistaken but ye…ye dinnae feel ready to take it on, are ye?”
“Yer right,” Ethan muttered, trying to stop himself from letting disbelief run through him. He should have at least expected that Violet’s sharp intuition would have picked up on that. “I’m nay because I always expected that I’d be me brother’s right hand, his second-in-command, nay the one who would be…” he sucked in a breath while images of his brother sprung up before his eyes, “…at the front and center.”
Violet slid her hand into his and her grip was tight. Grief was threatening to drown him, but Violet’s touch was like an anchor. He held onto her hand tightly while wrestling his emotions back into place.
“Ye can cry,” she whispered. “I won’t tell.”
He nearly let the collecting tears tip over the dam that rested behind his eyes. Clenching his eyes tightly, he sucked in some deep breaths and held unto her hand. When the burn in his chest began to subside, he felt a soft nest of curls rested under his chin. He turned his nose into Violet’s hair and breathed in rose oil. His arms closed around her slim shoulders and pressed her to his chest.
Not able to speak for a moment, Ethan held unto her as an anchor. Her soft, caring comfort was eclipsing his deep grief and he felt—absurdly— that there was more than comfort to her touch. When he wrestled back into logic, he forced himself to believe that she was just comforting him about his brother’s death and there was nothing more to it.
Soon, she and her father would find the man who killed his brother and then they would leave. He would never see her again. They did live separate lives, after all. Soon after, he would be the Laird and be married to a woman from a neighboring clan. Violet would be off with her father and then down the line, she would be with a man of her choosing.
Clutching her close, he swallowed over his pain. “Thank ye, Violet.”
She pulled away and lifted her hand to press her thumb under his left eyes. “What is with ye men? Ye are allowed to cry in front of others. The sky willnae split in two and a lightning bolt willnae strike ye dead for it.”
A chuckle was forced out from him at her wry tone. “Ye have a lot of experience with stubborn men?”
“Me faither is the king of ye lot,” she said, and her expression turned nostalgic. “When me maither died, I kent he was in grief, but he never even uttered so much as a sigh when I was near him. He held it all in for years. Then one year, that hollow look in his eyes was just gone. I cannae tell ye how he worked through it all, but he did.”
“Mayhap I should ask him his secret,” Ethan asked, earnestly.
Her light punch to his chest and her mock glare had him grinning. “The point is that keeping it all inside will nae help ye. Me faither suffered for years and it must have burned inside. If ye need to fight it out, if ye need to cry it out, if ye need to yell at God, dae it to save yerself from years of pain.”
Considering what she had just told him, Ethan believed he could find another way—that was to find the man who killed his bother as fitting revenge.
“Are ye still ready for another ride?” he asked.
Her eyebrows darted up in silent question. “For… our agreement?”
“Aye,” he nodded.
Standing, she smiled. “Always! Get the sack I gave ye last night a—”
“Hold yer horses,” he said, standing up. “We will have to eat first, and possibly carry some food with us. The next town we might have to check is a good two hours ride. The day is still early, so we have time. And, me faither said he would make sure yer faither understands that ye are safe with me, even if we come back at night.”
Delight danced in her eyes. “Then I suppose the main hall is our next destination.” Violet skipped down
the stairwell like a frisky lamb and entered the hall.
The high table was empty except for one—his uncle, who had platters of cold meats, cheese, brown bread, and oatcakes set before him. Ethan helped Violet up to the dais before acknowledging his uncle who was sipping from a goblet. “Uncle, good to see ye. Where did ye vanish to from two days ago?”
“Ah, Ethan,” Uncle Callum smiled. “I had to run to Perth to take care of an issue I had left unattended to before running here at yer faither’s summon. But now I am back. Miss O’Cain, it’s nice to see ye. How are ye taking to this Highland air?”
“I am from Inverness, good sir, and I have some experience with the air, but I must say yers is so much sweeter than the one back home,” Violet said then dropped her voice to a hush. “Me neighbors had a bad habit of burning the worst-smelling peat in their backyard. I wish I could trap yer air in me chest for the rest of me life.”
Uncle Callum smiled over his cup, “I like yer spirit, Miss O’Cain. I keep telling others that there is nowhere else where I would live and I have been all over the land, Miss. I’ve been to the continents, the far east and even Africa. I’ve seen the most wonderful lands, prairies that stretch from here to the sky, majestic animals, cultures that have opened me eyes to the lives of so many others, lifestyles and habits that make nay sense to me but still fascinate me. Even so, there is nowhere I’d rather be than here.”
Violet reached for a trencher, “Eth-, er, Master MacFerson, told me ye have been to England. What is it like there?”
“Some parts are beautiful, and the people are well mannered, but they tend to be very aloof and cold at times,” Uncle Callum said. “They are cultured, but the many rules and regulations, of all tiers of society, that they have are a bit off-putting, especially those at the top tier.”
Violet was nibbling on some bread and cheese before she asked, “Which rule is the most troubling to ye?”
Uncle Callum sat his cup down and pushed his trencher away to rest his elbows on the table, “I’d say…courting is very troubling.”
“How so?” Violet asked, her attention fully latched on his uncle.
Helping himself to his food, Ethan leaned back and listened, appreciating how much Violet was paying attention to his uncle. A lot of times when his uncle did speak about his travels, people tended to pretend to listen, but not Violet. It was clear that she sucked up information like a sponge, as she was doing so right then.
“Well, it’s all for money. Marrying for love is touted as foolish, and most times the lady had very little choice in her husband. Her faither or any living male member would arrange the marriage so that both families would benefit from titles, shared wealth and other assets. To make even this arrangement even more cold and contractual, many couples would meet for the very first time on their wedding day,” Uncle Callum said. “It’s a miracle some of them dae last to death dae them part.”
“Perhaps they dinnae have anywhere else to go,” Violet surmised. “It might be better for them to stay with the comfort they kent but live separate lives.”
A wide smile took Uncle Callum’s face and true appreciation twinkled in his eye. “Ye have a swift mind, Miss O’Cain, a very lovely asset and I do praise ye for it.”
“Thank ye,” Violet preened under the lovely praise. “So, tell me, where else have ye been? Nay, nay…sorry. I want to ken, what is the most awe-inspiring place ye have ever set foot in?”
“Jerusalem,” Uncle Callum smiled, “I took a trade ship to Africa a few years ago and journeyed to the Guinea Coast and traveled right across the land to see Jerusalem. I stopped in Egypt for a while, but even the moments there did not hold me. I had to go find and see with me own eyes the birthplace of the Christ. I did not see the actual place of his birth or where he was crucified, but I did climb Mount Sinai and saw the markets of Nazareth.”
Violet’s lips were open, and the shock painted on her face barely stopped his eyes from dipping to her lips and imagining if they were as pillow-soft as they looked. Instantly, he dropped his eyes and felt self-disgust and rife confusion curdle his stomach into cold shame.
His throat clenched dryly while he picked at his food. His emotions for her—a thick cluster of admiration, attraction, and self-admonition— were a maelstrom in his chest, and Violet did not need to be thrown into them. He fervently hoped that she had not picked up on his mood and if she had, he would need to beg forgiveness at the first opportunity.
But can I keep this covered…
9
Enraptured by Mister MacFerson’s story, Violet barely saw her father and Laird MacFerson enter the main hall. The two men were speaking to each other lowly enough that she could not hear what they were saying. Her eyes flicked to Mister MacFerson, then briefly to Ethan, whose eyes were fixed on his trencher as if it was a map to a goldmine.
Her brows knitted in confusion, before she spun back to Mister MacFerson’s story. He had gotten to the part where he had arrived in Galilee, but her attention was split down the middle.
What is bothering Ethan so much? Is he changing his mind about going to the next town with me?
The Laird heaved himself into a chair and called loudly for his hot meal. Luckily, her father sat near her and she said, “Pardon me, Mister MacFerson.” She leaned over to kiss her father on his cheek. “Good mornin’, Faither.”
He turned tired eyes on her but still smiled. “Bright and early like the morning star, ye are.”
“Are ye well? Did ye sleep at all?” she asked concernedly.
“Somewhat,” he murmured while rubbing his eyes. “We spoke to the healers yesterday about the sleeping draught and nay one owned up to giving Master MacFerson the brew. Someone suggested that there is a lady in the village who was a past castle healer. She might be the one who gave the potion to him. Laird MacFerson and I went to the village to find this woman, but was told she had died.”
A servant came to place a platter of food and a goblet before him and he paused to thank her. “To complicate the matter even more, we were told the woman had a daughter who she could have past the secret off to. We had to go to the settlement past the village through a hilly pass to look for this supposed woman…” Violet felt a chill of fear run down her spine that someone might have mentioned seeing Ethan and a lad there to her father and the Laird, “…only to find out that this supposed daughter had moved away as well. I ken we’re chasing ghosts, so we’re back to digging.”
She looked over to Ethan, whose head was up and looking at her father with interest. “Did ye get a description of this woman’s daughter?” he asked.
“Eh,” her father paused in eating, “Brown hair, light blues eyes, a scar on her forehead.”
Her eyes flew open; that was the same description of the woman the soldiers said had lured Ethan’s brother away. “Faither…” she looked at Ethan for confirmation, “Ye dae ken that is the same description of the woman of the tavern girl that took Master MacFerson away.”
“We realized,” Laird MacFerson grunted dispassionately. “It would make perfect sense to use one bird to kill two stones.”
“It’s one stone to kill two birds,” Mister MacFerson corrected his sibling with narrowed eyes. “Are ye drunk, brother?”
“I may have had a drink or two,” the Laird muttered while digging into his food, his eyes red and puffy. It was clear the man had been crying. “What’s it to ye?”
“In this time of tribulation, the people need a leader with a good head on his shoulders,” Mister MacFerson said tersely. “Dae ye ken that sinking to the bottom of a bottle would help that?”
Laird MacFerson exploded. His beefy hands slammed down on the table, rattling every trencher and cup before he roared, “I just lost me son! The boy that I loved from the day he was born, the one who was going to follow me footsteps! His maither is so heartbroken, she doesnae dae anything but sleep and when she wakes, she cries. A murderer is running around me land and we havenae caught him so I can give me wife some measure of peace
that we’ve done right by Finley. Can ye get off yer goddamned high horse for one blasted moment and be me brother instead of me judge, Callum!”
Pain and agony laced every word the man said, and the hall had dropped to an eerie quiet with his bellowed tirade. Ethan’s face was grim and pale and her father’s expression was rigid. The tension was so thick that she could have used a table knife to cut it. Pushing from the table, Balgair strode out of the room and his brother ran after him.
Her father sighed heavily and turned his gaze to Ethan, “Mister MacFerson, is there is anywhere ye can take Violet away from here today?”
“We can go riding again,” Ethan said evenly. “There is a lot more in the countryside that we can explore.”
Nodding in appreciation, her father added, “Please.”
The Highlander's Captured Bride (Steamy Scottish Historical Romance) Page 7