Two years ago. Undoubtedly there’d been plenty of trouble between Clans Dern and Kelbrue in that time. How much of it had been caused by the blacksmith? But Ambrose and his father could figure the rest of it out. Ian’s job here was done.
At least he’d averted a clan war for his temporary father-in-law.
“Well, I wish you luck.” With that, he turned to walk away.
“McCaim?”
The name startled him. It was his, of course, but he heard it so rarely here.
“Aye?”
He eyed the laird’s son, waiting for the hammer to drop. But it never did. Ambrose met his eyes and held them, and said, “She is the best woman I know. Treat her kindly, and love her as I would have.”
Jesus. Was this guy for real?
He was about to say,Yeah sure, but he realized Ambrose really meant it. The guy had a ridiculous name, but he was honestly in love with Màiri.
Could he say the same?
Ian couldn’t answer him honestly—he’d be lying if he agreed. He was planning to leave her, not love her. Wasn’t he?
“You’re a good man,” was all he said to her former intended, walking away.
A better one than me.
22
“Ride with me.”
Grey didn’t ask why. He just called ahead to Ross, telling him they’d return shortly, and when the others made the final climb to the aptly named Hightower Castle, Ian and his brother turned their mounts.
“Nice work back there,” Grey said as they continued to ride, their pace less frantic than it had been earlier.
“Thanks.” Ian was surprised by how quickly everything had happened. One minute, he was playing Eagle Scout with Ambrose. The next, his wife’s “friend” was talking to his father. All hell had broken loose, and they’d seized the smith, who’d admitted to the whole thing but hadn’t explained why he’d done it.
“Why do you think the smith wanted to cause trouble between Dern and Kelbrue?”
Grey shook his head. “Who knows. We thought New Orleans politics were out of control, but even the most corrupt commissioners have nothing on these clans.”
“Do you think Màiri’s father will reconsider his alliance with Dern?”
“No idea.” He cracked a smile. “Maybe when he learns his new BFF was the one to crack the code.”
“Pfft. I’ll hardly be his favorite person soon.”
Neither of them spoke as they climbed a ridge, one Ian knew offered an even more spectacular view than Rhys’s balcony back home. He loved people watching through the old wrought iron, listening to jazz streaming up from the streets below.
But this . . .
“Spectacular,” Grey said, echoing his thoughts. His brother’s horse danced beneath him. Steadying the mare, Grey breathed in the cold air, Ian watching him.
“Will you miss it?”
If Rhys and the others were almost at Hightower, this might be the last time they’d look out from this spot to the valley and rivers stretched out beneath them. Even though it was nearly dusk, there were no lights, no buildings even. Only Hightower in the distance behind them.
“We can come back.”
“No way . . .”
