Bride of Lochbarr. Margaret Moore
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I, him. What of that?”
Lachlann patted Neas’s muzzle. The beast shivered and pranced, so Lachlann withdrew his hand. “It’s not good to have enemies within the clan.”
Lachlann worried about Cormag too much. “He’s my cousin and clansman. He’ll stand with me in a battle.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“If he doesn’t, you and I both know the fate of a man who’ll betray his clan.”
“So you’re not worried about Cormag at all?” Lachlann asked, his gaze searching Adair’s face as if he doubted Adair could really have so little concern for what Cormag thought of him.
“Cormag’s our cousin. That’s what’ll matter when it comes to a battle.”
“Then something else is troubling you.”
“That damned Norman and his castle,” Adair readily admitted. “He shouldn’t be here, and that castle’ll be hard to capture if the king changes his mind and wants to rid our land of those foreigners. And now he’s allying himself with Mac Glogan, who’d sell his own mother for the right price.”
“Aye, ’tis troubling. No wonder you’ve been so quiet lately.”
Adair forced a laugh as he started to lead Neas around Lachlann. “You’re the one always saying I ought to think more.”
And he had been thinking, ever since he’d returned from Dunkeathe, about the marriage and the lady and the escape he’d prevented.
“So, where will you be riding?” Lachlann asked as he followed Adair and Neas into the yard.
“The south meadow,” Adair answered, not completely lying, for he would indeed be heading south on this fine day. The sky was blue enough to make you think you’d never seen blue like it before. Not a cloud was overhead, nor was there even a hint of mist on the hills around the loch.
“Care for some company on your ride?”
“Not today, Lachlann. I’m not in a mood to talk.”
Lachlann put his hand on Adair’s arm to detain him. “It’s too dangerous,” he said in a low and confidential whisper.
“Since when has riding been dangerous for me?” Adair demanded with a raised brow.
“It’s not the riding,” Lachlann answered, still in that same low, cautious tone. “It’s the woman. You can fool Father and the others, but you can’t fool me, Adair. You want Lady Marianne—I could see it in your eyes the moment you turned around and saw her.”
Adair grabbed his brother’s arm and pulled him back into the stable, taking Neas with them. Once they were inside and the door closed behind Neas, Adair tossed his horse’s reins over a stall wall and faced Lachlann. “I’m not some lascivious lout.”
Lachlann didn’t back down. “I saw the look on your face when we rode away from Beauxville—”
“Dunkeathe.”
His brother shrugged. “Their fortress.”
“It’s their fortress and their alliance with Mac Glogan that’s got me worried,” Adair declared. “I’m worried the Normans are marrying into clans because they’re trying to take Scotland over from within, like a plague infecting a village.”
“I don’t believe that’s all there is to this.”
Before Adair could refute his charge, Lachlann’s expression softened. “It’s not just lust you feel for her, Adair. I know that. Ever since Cellach was killed you’ve had a weakness for a woman in trouble and Lady Marianne’s betrothed to Hamish Mac Glogan. No woman could be happy married to him. But it’s not your place to interfere.”
“It’s not my place to pretend it’s not important, either,” Adair retorted, leaving Cellach out of it. “Father hasn’t said another word about going to the king to stop the wedding—and it has to be stopped. With the Norman to the south, Mac Glogan to the west and the sea to the east, we’re in a trap.”
“The clans to the north are our friends,” Lachlann said, his tone reasonable and calm. “And Father’s right to be cautious. He has to be sure preventing the marriage is the right thing to do, and plan the best way to go about it if it is.”
“Of course it’s the right thing to do!” Adair strode a few paces away, then back again. “What if Father spends so much time thinking, she’s married before he stirs? Then there’ll be nothing anybody can do.”
“Perhaps Father has his reasons for not interfering. Have you asked him?”
Adair didn’t answer.
Lachlann sighed. “I thought not. Leave it, Adair, and leave her. You’ll only make things worse if you go back to Beaux—Dunkeathe.”
Adair’s impatience was getting difficult to control. “Did I say I was going to Dunkeathe?”
“If you’re not, there’s no reason I shouldn’t go riding with you. I could use the practice. You’re always telling me I sit my horse like a bag of stones.”
Adair bit back another retort, because he recognized the look in Lachlann’s eyes; the lad wasn’t going to give up. So he had two choices: lie, or be honest.
“All right, Lachlann, you’ve caught me,” he said, spreading his hands. “I want to ride to Dunkeathe—but just to get a look at Lady Marianne. If I can find proof she’s being forced to marry, that’ll surely convince Father to go to the king. Father hates to see a woman being used against her will as much as I.”
Lachlann regarded Adair doubtfully. “How do you intend to get into the castle? You can’t ride up and announce your intentions to Sir Nicholas.”
“I’ll sneak in.”
“Let’s say you succeed in getting into the castle. How will you know what’s passing between the lady and her brother, or if she objects?”
“I’ll find out somehow.”
“Hamish Mac Glogan is rich and has influence with Alexander. Maybe she thinks those things outweigh Mac Glogan’s faults.”
“She’s not a gomeral, and only a gomeral would think anything outweighs that old villain’s faults.” Adair’s voice hardened, like his resolve the moment he’d decided what he had to do. “You aren’t going to try to stop me, are you, Lachlann?”
His brother shook his head. “Much as I’d like to, you’d only go another time. And as you say, if she’s being forced, that’s a good reason for our father to go to the king and try to stop the marriage. So perhaps there’s no harm in a wee visit to Dunkeathe—but you have to let me go, too. You need somebody with you who can keep a cool head.”
Adair realized he had little choice but to agree, or he would have to waste even more time arguing, and he’d wasted too much already. “Hurry up, then, and saddle your horse.”
Lachlann didn’t move. “Are you planning to go dressed like that? You’ll be a tad kenspeckle in your feileadh. Should you not make an effort at disguise?”
“Losh, you’re right,” Adair muttered, looking down at his clothes.
“I’ll fetch some other garments while you saddle my horse,” Lachlann said, turning to go.
Adair beat him to the door. He didn’t want to risk Lachlann revealing their intentions, if only by accident. “I’ll fetch the clothes.”
Lachlann raised a skeptical brow. “And what will you say you want them for?”
“What excuse will you be giving?” Adair countered.
“I’ll think of something, and I’m a better liar.”
That was true.