10
“Hold up.”
It took every bit of self-control not to groan at the sound of his brother’s voice behind him in the passageway. After her annoyingly long conversation with Lord Lovesick, conducted at the back of the hall, he’d watched his wife leave the hall with her maid. Apparently the maid wasn’t here to stay—she hadn’t been expected to come at all, but she’d appeared in the hall just before the meal, much to his wife’s surprise and delight.
Grey’s wife had a few more concerns, it seemed, although she’d refrained from voicing them. He liked his sister-in-law. A lot. But he got the distinct feeling his attitude toward this marriage grated on her even though she hadn’t said a word about it. She did follow Màiri out of the hall, and he was glad his wife had someone nice looking out for her.
“Who is he?” his brother asked.
“Who?” he asked, pretending not to know.
Ian shivered, the feeling of standing in the middle of a dark corridor surrounded by wall torches something he’d never get used to. The castle tours they’d taken on their vacation to Scotland had made the buildings seem so remote, unused. Even the rooms that had been furnished to recreate some scene from the past didn’t come close to the real thing. It was the people, he realized. History couldn’t truly be recreated without them.
“You know who. The guy in the back of the hall talking to Màiri. The one you stared at like he was a king cake.”
He laughed. “Ugh. I hate them.”
Thembeing every king cake in existence. A natural reaction given he’d almost choked on one when he was young. If his mother hadn’t successfully administered the Heimlich, he might not be here right now. Death by a plastic baby Jesus. Talk about irony.
“Ian, I know it’s been a hell of a ride since you got here.”
An understatement.
“But this is her real life. Lady Màiri isn’t playacting.”
Which was precisely what Marian had been trying to convey to him without outright saying it. Leave it to Grey to hit it home.
“No shit.”
Grey didn’t even flinch.
“And I know you’re planning to leave her here if we can get back home, but . . .”
“When.When we get back home. I have the cross. Mom, Rhys, and Reikart are all here. Somewhere. And as soon as they hightail it back to Hightower, we’re outta here.”
“Without your wife?”
“Jesus, Grey. This isn’t like you and Marian. I hardly know the woman. Besides, she’s in love with that guy. The son of some neighboring clan. The nicest thing I can do for her will be to leave her here, in thereal lifeshe knows with a man she loves.”
“But you clearly like her.”
So that’s what this was about. Greyson had taken up their mother’s torch—trying to fix Ian and make him happy.
“She’s hot, for sure.”
Grey’s eyebrows rose.
“There’s something about her. I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. This isn’t going to be a real marriage, and I’m going to tell her why.”
“Not tonight you aren’t.”
“Why not? She needs to know. Don’t you think stringing her along would be a dick move?”
They’d kept their voices down, although from the distant sound of merriment in the hall, the party wasn’t going to end anytime soon. Arrangements had been made for Ian and Màiri to stay in a separate tower, different from where he’d been this past week in the main keep. Now that they were a married couple and all that jazz.
“At least wait until you can talk to the father a bit more. For all his blustering, he’s genuinely thrilled about this alliance, and with your powers of persuasion, I really think you could bring him back to Bruce’s side. Then you can tell her, give her time to adjust. We knew Dad our whole lives, and none of us believed him about the time travel thing. She’ll think you’re nuts. You know that, right?”
The question hung around them like cemetery fog. Had he been more superstitious, Ian might have said something about the torch that had just extinguished behind his brother’s head. His mother had always believed in signs. God knows how she would have read into that expired flame, but she would have. Ian had no doubt of that.
