“What the hell did you do to her?” Grey asked.
Ian had just come back from a walk around Hightower. He’d gone looking for his wife and hadn’t found her. Along the way, he’d paid attention to every building, every chamber. Someday he would tell his future nieces or nephews about this adventure. And, not for the first time, he wished his parents had told them the truth sooner. He would have taken more of an interest in his heritage had he known this was his mother’s world.
“Did you see the chapel? It puts the murals in St. Louis to shame.”
His brother didn’t appear impressed. Falling in beside him, Grey continued to scowl until Ian finally asked, “Are you talking about Màiri?”
If Grey thought Ian was headed straight for the hall, he was in for a surprise. Unlike his brother, Ian enjoyed wandering aimlessly. Especially these castle corridors. He did it a lot back home, driving his brothers, especially Reikart, insane.
This would be fun.
“No, dipshit. Your other wife.”
“So you’re Dr. Ruth now?”
He turned down a poorly lit corridor, amazed at how dark certain parts of the castle were compared with others where arrow slits faced the sun. “Can you imagine being a candlemaker? They must be richer than the king.”
“Ian.”
He hated that tone.
Stopping, he crossed his arms.
“I didn’t do anything. That’s the point. I’ve kept my hands off her, and it’s not so fucking easy, I might add. Instead of a ‘Good job, Ian. Way to not get your wife pregnant and pull the ultimate absent-father disappearing act,’ you’re upset for God knows why? I’ll have you know I took care of your littleKelbrue’s future son saves Bruce’s ass at Bannockburnproblem.”
That had Grey’s attention.
“Only you would call Scotland’s War of Independence a little problem,” his brother said, leaning against a wall inches away from their only light source in the dimly lit corridor.
“I got to know him a bit yesterday, and I’m telling you there’s no way in hell he was going to be sweet-talked into it.”
Grey looked at him like,So how, exactly, did you take care of it?
“When we go back, we do it in front of Màiri. It’s one thing to believe and another to actually see it happen.”
“And?”
“Her father likes me. No surprise there,” he muttered, though Grey didn’t comment on that one. “I told him there’s a special reason he should support the Bruce. I told him I couldn’t explain yet, but that Màiri will come to him at some point in the future. I urged him to remember our conversation when she does—and to give real consideration to accepting Bruce as an ally again.”
Greyson lost it, which was pretty much what he’d expected.
“Seriously? Your answer is for Màiri to tell her father the truth? He’ll more likely think we, and Clan MacKinnish by extension, are fucking mad. Why not just disappear in front of father and daughter both if you’re going to tell him we’re time travelers?”
He’d considered that. But he suspected his brother wouldn’t like the reason he’d thrown out the idea. Better to avoid the topic if possible.
“Ian, I swear . . .”
“He was never going to do it otherwise. You’re a genius, Grey. You and Rhys both. And Reikart has balls of steel. And yes, I’m just the baby brother.”
“I never said that.”
“But I can read people. And I’m telling you, there was no other option. He likes me. And trusts me. When Màiri tells him what happened, he will listen to her. I swear it.”
“How’d he react to your crazy talk?”
Grey was coming around to the idea. Maybe.
“He seemed receptive, mostly because I’m the crazy fucker who got himself hitched because he can’t tell a lie. So yes, he said he would consider it. And I believe him. You want Kelbrue to fight with Bruce? It’s done.”
