His brother shrugged. “I had to come inside anyway to meet him.”
Himbeing their grandfather. All Ian knew about the man was that he’d been at Forge End in the north, quite some distance from Hightower, at some important meeting of Bruce’s allies. Uncle Dermot, his second-in-command, was with him. Apparently they’d be meeting them both.
Ian froze.
“Do we tell them?”
He could tell his brother knew exactly what he meant. From one of the books their dad had procured, they knew their grandfather and uncle would die in the war to come . . . but if they warned them, perhaps that fate could be averted. It might be worth it to try.
Or maybe it would affect the future in a dozen different ways no one wanted.
Greyson shook his head.
“We don’t tell them.”
“You sure? What if we can prevent it?”
“Mom knows a hell of a lot more about everything than we do. If she wanted to tell them, she could have. But we don’t have enough details, so for now, we say nothing. Maybe Mom or Rhys has already said something. They know we’re from the future, so at least we won’t need to explain that.”
Shit.
How was he supposed to look his uncle and grandfather in the eyes, knowing both of them would lose their lives in the fight that was to come? But Grey was right, of course. They couldn’t be like,You will be hanged for aiding Bruce. So maybe go ahead and avoid getting caught.
“It’s a lot to take in.”
Grey continued toward the great hall. “No shit. Understatement of the year. Now, about Màiri . . .”
“No, Grey. I can’t. Not right now.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
Ian loved how his brother listened to him.
“She’s still a virgin.”
“And you still intend to leave her here?”
“Oh, look at that. Just in time.”
They’d turned a corner in the passageway to see two men emerge from the stairwell that led to the ground floor and front door of the keep. There was no doubt as to who the men were.
Even if the laird didn’t look like a grey-haired version of his sons, his posture proclaimed him as the leader of this place. The guy next to him had to be Dermot, his red hair a close match for Ian’s mother’s hair.
Neither man seemed to take notice of them as they made their way to the hall.
The hall was nearly empty—the meal Ian had missed had evidently been cleaned up a long time ago. Perhaps the excitement over the laird’s return had ensured no one noticed their absence. Well, no one except for Marian—given that she and Màiri typically breakfasted together in her room these days.
“Is Lady Màiri awake?”
Speak of the devil.
He turned to see his sister-in-law, who was giving him the very same grin his brother had perfected, one that hinted at a secret only the two of them knew.
“He’s rubbing off on you.”
Grey had gone ahead, following the laird and their uncle into the great hall. He intended to do the same, but Marian pulled him aside.
“When she did not come to my chamber this morn, I made some inquiries.”
