“Of course, I won’t say a word. Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”
Ian hugged his sister-in-law, trying to imagine a tiny little baby in her stomach. How far along was she? Would it be a boy or a girl?
“Grey is going to be a father. Who would’ve thunk it.”
His brother would make an amazing father. They’d had a great example.
“I’ll see you later,” he said, pulling away.
Marian didn’t look surprised, just interested. “Where are you going?”
Where was he going? Great question. If only he knew.
“I need to clear my head.”
But as he looked for the steward to fetch his mantle, Ian realized he did know. None of his brothers would argue with his self-assessment that he could be a total asshole, but Ian wasn’t as thick as he’d made himself out to be these last few days.
He did know where he was going. And it wasn’t for a walk to clear his head.
Ian was going to find his wife. And to tell her in no uncertain terms she would not be marrying Ambrose.
Because she was already married.
25
If Ian had believedin fate—and okay, maybe he did a little—he would say it made a hell of a lot of sense that they’d caught up with Màiri here, at the loch where it all had started. But the look she was giving him today wasn’t at all inviting. She was downright pissed.
Which was no less than he deserved.
Ian winced every time he thought of the pretty speech he’d given her. What an ass. His only excuse was that he’d been scared. He was still scared. In many ways, Màiri was still a stranger. They still had so much to learn about each other. What was her favorite color? Her biggest fear?
“She doesn’t look happy,” he said to Grey.
“Yeah. I wonder why.”
Knowing he’d be in for a tongue-lashing eventually anyway, he’d gone straight to his brother after leaving Marian. And Grey had been all too happy to accompany him, although he hadn’t held back on the ride—he’d let Ian know exactly what he thought of his treatment of Màiri the night before.
Greeting his uncle Alastair, who didn’t appear all that pleased to see him, Ian leapt off his horse. He tried to psych himself up with the thought that they might laugh about this someday—how two important moments in their life had happened by the same lake, the very one her father had drained to keep his enemy from fishing.
Except no one was laughing now. Least of all him. He held out his hand, and thankfully, she dismounted. Now that he stood opposite her, looking into her eyes, he could feel every bit of confidence drifting away. This was worse than anger. His wife looked sad. Defeated. As if the fight had gone out of her.
But it had not gone out of him.
“I am the biggest idiot on the planet. In your time and mine.”
Remembering the others who weren’t privy to their unique circumstances, he took a few steps closer to Màiri. Even her horse didn’t want him near. The animal nickered and stamped its feet.
“I should never have said what I did.”
His uncle stepped out in front of Màiri, a sour look on his face.
“Alastair,” Grey called. Bless him.
His uncle didn’t seem inclined to move, so he continued talking, stepping a little to the side so he could look into her eyes.
“Please,” he said, lifting a hand up to his wife. “Please just listen to me. And then if you want to mount back up and ride to Kinross, I won’t stop you. But we need to talk.”
Màiri nodded to his uncle, as if he was her protector.
