Bride For A Knight Page 0,52

mouth. "Nay, laddie, I dinna think you'll find the murderer amongst Munro's cattle buyers."

"Neither do I." Jamie took his own wine and went to stand at the window. Setting down his cup, he unlatched the shutters and opened them wide. The air held a biting chill and full darkness would soon claim the eerie half-light, so filled with shadows and damp, sighing wind.

He stood rigid, staring out at the gray pall of mist. Thick, drifting sheets of it curled across Fairmaiden's bailey and the surrounding woods. Woods that bordered on some of the finest, most lush grazing grounds in Kintail. Fairmaiden's greatest prize and a treasure he could scarce believe would soon be his.

Leastways a goodly portion of it.

He was quite sure his da wouldn't have parted with an inch of such sweet, rich pasturing lands. No matter how many daughters he might have had to dower. And that was another question he had to put to Alan Mor. Once and for all time.

He turned from the hushed silence beyond the window. "I will find my brothers'

murderer," he said, willing it so. "No darkness will be black enough for the bastard to hide in for long. But I would ask one more question of you."

Alan Mor shrugged. "I've naught to hide."

"Save the stones weighting down the bride price coffers you gave my da."

To Jamie's surprise, the older man laughed. "A private jest," he said, sounding not at all put out that Jamie knew. "Call it repayment for all the years your da has fleeced me to the bone each time I've been fool enough to buy a stirk or two from him."

He wagged a finger at Jamie. "That'll be the reason the pop-eyed lout hasn't complained. He knows he owes me."

Jamie folded his arms. "What I would know is why the alliance in the first place?

Both your daughter Sorcha to Neill, and now giving Aveline to me?"

He glanced at the closed door, wishing it were bolted. Or perhaps even better, opened wide. Simply to ensure curious ears weren't pressed against the wood. Especially Sorcha's for he had no desire to stoke the maid's sorrow.

"Aye," he went on, looking back at Alan Mor, "I canna wrap my mind around your willingness to forge a bond between our houses. It's bothered me since I first received your missive at Cuidrach Castle, and it still plagues me. Though I am more than pleased to have Aveline as my bride."

"Why shouldn't I wish peace between our houses? A lasting bond?" Alan Mor jutted his chin. "Mayhap I've grown weary of feuding?"

"Amiable feuding," Jamie reminded him.

"So I have said."

"You have the better grazing lands," Jamie pointed out. "By your own admission, you must've bought enough Baldreagan bulls o'er the years to have enriched and strengthened the blood of your own herd."

"Would you believe because your cattle are protected by old Devorgilla's rowan charms?"

Jamie shook his head. "Not for a heartbeat."

Alan Mor curled his fingers around his belt. "Suffering saints, laddie, I hope my wee daughter ne'er gets on your wrong side!" he said, but his tone was amused.

"If you'd have the truth of it, there is another reason I sought this alliance. But it has naught to do with your brothers. That I swear."

"Then what is it?"

Alan Mor pressed his lips together, scratched his bearded chin. And said nothing.

But the faint tinge staining his cheeks assured Jamie he did have something to say.

Jamie waited. "Well?"

"Ach, simply this." Alan Mor swept his arm in a great arc to take in the splendor of his privy solar. The fine tapestries dressing the walls and the costly standing candelabrum with its pleasantly-scented beeswax tapers. The richly carved settle by the door with its sea of welcoming cushions.

Even the flagon of heady spiced wine they'd been sipping. The generously-laden platters of cheese, confits, and sweetmeats spread on a table near the window. Alan Mor enjoyed his comforts and Jamie couldn't fathom what the man's high taste had to do with making peace with his long-time feuding partner. Good-natured bickering or no.

Unless ...

Jamie's brows drew together. The notion forming in his mind was too preposterous to put in words.

"I canna believe you feel threatened by my da?" he asked, regardless. "Dinna tell me you feared he'd seize Fairmaiden? Take your riches from you?"

"Sure as I'm standing here, that's the reason I wished an alliance with the crossgrained devil," Alan Mor admitted, his face coloring a deeper red. "Though it was ne'er Munro himself who concerned me. The saints know he