Chapter 11
Afull month had passedsince Fiona Finnigan had become Fiona MacNeil, and the transformation in both her life and her marriage surprised even herself.What had begun as a dreaded arranged union had blossomed into something neither she nor Connor had expected.A partnership built on mutual respect, growing affection, and an undeniable passion that set them both aflame.
The morning sun streamed through the narrow windows of their chamber as Fiona carefully braided her hair, watching Connor in the reflection as he fastened his sword belt.Even in these quiet domestic moments, her heart quickened at the sight of his broad shoulders and the way his dark hair caught the light.
"The harvest sums need reviewing," she said, tucking the last pins into her braid."Ewan mentioned the stores from the northern cottages were running lower than expected."
Connor turned, and that familiar warmth spread through his eyes.A look that had become as addictive to her as whisky."Aye, I'll see to it after weapons practice.And ye?Off to terrorize my brother again?"
Fiona laughed, swatting his arm as she passed."I merely pointed out that his bookkeeping could benefit from a woman's touch.The man can lead warriors into battle but cannot balance a ledger to save his soul."
"Speaking of saving souls," Connor caught her hand, pulling her close for a lingering kiss that made her toes curl in."Dinnae let Morna work ye too hard at the cottage today."
"Says the man who'll spend hours teaching young Douglas Fraser how to properly hold a sword," she teased, but melted into his embrace nonetheless.
A sharp knock at their door interrupted the moment, followed by Horas's familiar voice."Mrs.MacNeil?Forgive the intrusion, but I wanted to check on yer leg before ye begin yer duties.It seemed to trouble ye yesterday evening."
Connor's expression darkened instantly, and Fiona felt him stiffen against her.This was the third time this week Horas had found reason to seek her out, always with some excuse about her old injury.
"I'm perfectly well, Horas," she called through the door, noting how Connor's jaw had gone rigid."Thank ye for yer concern."
"Perhaps I should escort ye, just to be certain.I ken how the damp weather affects old wounds—"
"That won't be necessary," Connor's voice cut through the door like a blade."My wife has spoken."
There was a pause before Horas replied, his tone carefully neutral."Aye, I'll be in the courtyard should ye need anything."
The sound of his retreating footsteps did nothing to ease the tension that had settled over Connor's features.Fiona watched her husband's reflection in the mirror, seeing the muscle jump in his cheek, a sign she'd learned to recognize over their weeks together.
"He means well," she said quietly, though even to her own ears, the words sounded uncertain.
Connor said nothing, but she caught the sharp look he gave her before turning to gather his weapons.The easy intimacy of moments before had evaporated, leaving something cold and uncomfortable in its wake.
***
AN HOUR LATER, FIONAfound herself in the Great Hall, where Ewan sat hunched over parchments, his dark brows furrowed in concentration.She approached with a wooden cup of ale and set it beside his elbow.
"Ye look as though those numbers have personally offended ye," she observed, settling into the chair across from him.
Ewan glanced up with a grateful smile, though she noticed his gaze flick briefly toward the doorway."Perhaps they have.This supposed accounting from the miller makes no sense whatsoever.Either the man's gone daft, or he's skimming grain."
Fiona leaned forward, studying the parchment.Within moments, she'd spotted the discrepancy.It was a clever bit of manipulation in the measuring units that would be easy to miss unless one knew what to look for.
"Here," she said, pointing to a line near the bottom."He's listed the same quantity twice, using different measures.Five stones becomes ten pounds, when five stones should be seventy pounds."
Ewan stared at the parchment, then at Fiona, then threw back his head and laughed, a rich sound that echoed through the hall."God's blood, sister!Ye've a mind like a blade, sharp and dangerous."
"Flattery will get ye everywhere, brother," she replied with a grin, deliberately using the familial term that still felt new on her tongue.
Ewan's eyes twinkled, but then his expression grew more serious."Speaking of family matters, I suppose I should tell ye, I may need to make a journey south soon."
"Oh?Something to do with clan matters?"
