Page 61 of The Finest Scottish Fate

It had been a hellish feckin’ week. The old MacMuirrow had finally given up and grudgingly gone to his grave, but not before setting off one last ripple of treachery through the council with the few followers Glengarten still controlled. Along with resolving that mess, Drummond had also settled on a plan to help his beloved Evie fully commit to their union. Unfortunately, that plan had not come without its own particular challenges. May the Almighty help him hold fast and remain strong.

“Why are they still here?” he asked Murdoch while giving Lady Merelys Heberdy a polite nod. She was meandering back and forth around the great hall like a predator circling its prey.

“They say ’tis because of the impassable roads due to the mud and melting snow. Well, that, and yer father’s burial.” Murdoch turned aside, covering his mouth with his fist as he pretended to clear his throat. “But Mrs. Farris tells me they’ve sent for their solicitor. Ye ken how well her maids report back to her.”

“They still intend to challenge my marriage to Evie?”

“Aye.”

Not surprising. Were the situation reversed, Drummond would do the same. Maybe.

He sipped his ale and returned his focus to the stairwell, watching for the woman who had given him the greatest joy and the most heartbreaking pain in almost equal shares. It was one thing for him to sense his wife’s struggles with commitment, but it was a dire thing indeed for others to see her doubts just as plainly, and he felt sure canny old Heberdy had noticed as well.

A heavy sigh left him. Ever since their return from Glen Blackmorrow and the battle with Beira’s hags, a crushing uneasiness had plagued him. No matter how much Evie swore she belonged at his side, he still saw the longing for her past life in her eyes, heard it in her voice, and her fears were still there. She worried about things that might not even come to pass. But heaven help him, he needed her more each day.

He snorted a mirthless laugh. If anyone had ever told him he would love a woman with such unyielding ferocity, he would have called them mad. Yet here he was, utterly helpless to do anything other than pray that she would someday love him just as fiercely.

“M’lord,” Lady Merelys said as she boldly swept her way up to the head table, “may I join ye?”

In his experience, women were just as dangerous as men and not to be underestimated, but what else could he do? He nodded. “Of course, Lady Merelys, although it surprises me to find ye here in the hall without yer maid or one of yer father’s men. I highly doubt Chief Heberdy wishes his daughter unaccompanied.”

Rather than blush and retreat as most maidens would, she surprised him with a bold laugh, then settled into the chair beside him, Evie’s chair, and leaned in close. “Am I not safe with ye, m’lord?”

He shifted, placing more space between them. “Ye are most safe with me, m’lady. But appearances are everything, ye ken? Most would think it unseemly for a maiden to wander the halls of a strange keep alone. Would yer father not think so?”

Malice rather than shame or embarrassment glittered in her beautiful eyes. “My father trusts me, m’lord.”

“Aye, well”—Drummond lowered his voice—“I do not.”

Without reacting, the cunning woman slid her gaze to something behind him.

“I believe you are in my seat,” Evie said to the girl as she drew closer and possessively rested a hand on his shoulder.

He reached up and covered her hand with his, then smiled at the calculating Lady Merelys. “It was a pleasure speaking with ye, m’lady.”

Head held proudly, Lady Merelys slowly rose, then meandered away as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

Evie seated herself, then tapped on the gemstone of the warning ring Morganna had given her. “I can’t believe this thing doesn’t change whenever that chick’s around. She’s pure evil.”

Chick? While unaccustomed to that word for a woman, he understood the gist of it. Evie did not mean it kindly. “Yer Morganna said the ring sensed Fae. Not evil, ye ken?”

She made a face. “True.” Folding her hands in her lap, she eyed him and started chewing her lip.

Now what? Whenever she chewed her lip, she was about to say something he wasn’t going to like. “Speak it, wife, before ye start yer lip to bleeding.”

She immediately stopped, but tantalized him by licking her lips. “I’ve missed you.”

“I have not been away from the keep.” But he knew very well what she meant. Mrs. Farris had informed him about one of his wife’s particular fears that a maid had heard Evie confess to Morganna while unaware that a servant was close enough to overhear.

“I’ve missed you at night,” she said with a meaningful dip of her chin. “And you don’t answer when I knock on your locked bedroom door.”

“I have missed ye as well,” he said softly, “but we’ll not share a bed again until not a doubt remains about our bond.”

She stared at him, unblinking. “Did Morganna talk to you?”

“Morganna did not have to.” He’d not lie to his Evie. He would simply show her their bond was more than just physical—even if it killed him with the wanting of her.

“Then how—?”