“True. But I assume you’ve thought through the alternative?”
The alternative. Leaving Màiri here, in her own time. Returning home to never see her again, never know what had become of her. Maybe she would marry Ambrose. Maybe not. She could do a lot worse, and now that their clans had a reason to rethink an alliance . . .
“I can’t tell you what to do,” his brother said after a moment. “Obviously. And I’m no expert either. But we’ve all seen a pretty crystal clear example of love.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, look at Dad. He’s spent every day since Mom disappeared trying to get her back—researching, making calls, bidding on ancient books, you name it. He never once gave up.”
Ian didn’t want to think of it. His chest literally burned with guilt and shame for the hell they’d put their father through, not believing him.
“And think about what it must have been like for Mom. She gave us everything after having lost”—he swept his hands in front of him—“all of this. Can you imagine? And it must have been so hard for her not to tell us. I can only assume she did it to protect us.”
Ian had thought the same thing as well.
But he couldn’t bear to think of his parents right now. He just couldn’t. The thought of his father dying alone in that hospital bed, never having known they’d believed him in the end . . . He angrily wiped away a tear.
“How did you know? With Marian?”
Greyson let out a deep breath. “The thought of giving her over to Duncan . . .” He shook his head. “No way. Wasn’t going to happen. I just knew.”
I just knew.
That was the problem. Ian didn’t just know. He felt like Jon Snow. He knew nothing. About his feelings. About his role in their family. Ian was as lost now as he’d been that day his mother had confronted him in the kitchen.
And that wasn’t good enough for Màiri.
She worries about something, aye?
He wasn’t sure why Ambrose’s question popped into his brain just then. But it had. And he felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner.
“Anxiety.”
“Yeah, you cause it all the time.”
Ian made a face at his brother as they left the overlook and approached the castle.
“Stomach problems. Sweating. Trouble breathing. Ambrose said she’s had symptoms like that before. He implied it happens more often when she worries.”
“Hmmm.”
“Think about Reik. Especially just after the accident. Anxiety, Grey. She has anxiety. Sitting in that room with everyone, not knowing what her future holds. I did that to her. Dammit, I’m such an idiot.”
“I don’t disagree with you there.”
“I can fix this.”
He raced ahead of his brother. How had it not occurred to him earlier? The way he’d been treating Màiri was causing her to be physically ill. Of course, that wasn’t something they could diagnose now, but if she felt better when he got back . . .
No more mixed signals. No more uncertainty. No more waiting.
Ian couldn’t fix his own situation, but he could help hers.
23
Màiri had decidedto tell Ian how she felt about him.
If his family was almost here, they didn’t have much time left. There was no doubt she was falling in love with him, and Màiri would not let him leave without saying so.
