used to be. I didnae ken at the time the two of ye have a loving relationship.”
“Gregor…” She lifted a tender hand to his face and cupped his cheek. Her mossy eyes brimmed with a dozen emotions, sheening once again with tears.
“I would never lift even my wee finger against ye, Birdie,” he pushed on, his voice ragged and his throat raw. “Yet I have hurt ye nonetheless. I have broken my vow to myself.”
“Nay,” she breathed. “I chose to let ye into my heart, even kenning that ye couldnae stay. The fact is…” She swallowed hard, her eyes closing for a moment. “The fact is, ye are right. A marriage alliance just might bring a lasting peace with the Gunns. And it is the duty of the Laird’s daughter to wed for the betterment of her clan.”
Her mouth curved in a sad smile before she continued. “It isnae exactly what Robert the Bruce did for our country, but I suppose it is as close as I will ever come.”
Just then, heavy raindrops began spattering their heads.
“I will stay to see my promise to end the feud through,” Gregor murmured. “But I cannae watch ye wed another. I’ll leave ye once the matter is settled.”
She nodded, struggling to compose her features into their usual serene poise.
“We’d best get back to the castle before the clouds open in earnest,” she said woodenly.
Reluctantly, he released her and rose, then helped her to her feet. But once she’d gained her footing, her hand slipped from his.
They walked slowly back toward the castle, even as the rain began falling harder. A long, empty arm’s length separated them the whole way.
Chapter Fourteen
“Laird Argus Gunn requests entry, Laird.”
Lamond stood in the castle’s open double doors, his arms clasped rigidly behind him. He wore a sword belted over the wide swath of Morgan plaid slung across his chest, neither of which was normal within the castle.
But today was an unusual day. The Gunns had arrived.
Of course, they’d been spotted well before they’d reined in at Castle Bharraich. The Gunn retinue had moved sluggishly over the hills to the east and across the open moors toward the castle, so as to make it abundantly clear that they were not attacking. They’d also announced their presence with a pennant in Gunn colors flying prominently over their party.
Still, Birdie’s stomach lurched at the announcement of their arrival.
It had taken a flurry of missives over the course of a sennight to agree to a meeting to discuss peace, settle on the Morgans’ keep rather than the Gunns’ for their talks, and make the arrangements for their visit.
Which had meant a long, slow, painful sennight spent simultaneously avoiding Gregor and nervously contemplating what fate awaited Birdie once the Gunns were here.
And now the moment had come.
She straightened her knees to keep them from trembling, fixing her gaze on Lamond. If she hadn’t, it would drift to where Gregor stood off to the left and below the raised dais.
Just then, Tessa’s slippered foot nudged her own under the drape of their gowns. Birdie started, casting her sister a sideways glance. Breathe, Tessa mouthed silently.
She needed the reminder. She felt as though she’d barely drawn a breath in the last sennight, along with the rest of the castle.
When it had become clear from their responding missives that the Gunns would indeed be willing to discuss the possibility of a truce by way of marriage, Annis had planted herself in the kitchens and hadn’t budged.
That had been three days past. She’d been cooking, baking, salting, smoking, preserving, and spicing nearly every moment since, with the help of all three scullery maids and a few of the strong younger lads as well.
The rest of the servants had been just as busy, replacing the rushes, scouring the soot from the hearth, and polishing the castle’s plentiful iron to a shine.
Birdie had been kept occupied—and distracted, blessedly—helping them, but a few hours past, when the Gunn retinue had first been sighted, the castle had flown into a frenzy of last-moment preparations even more feverish than before.
For their part, Birdie and Tessa had both scrubbed themselves clean, dressed in their finest gowns, and plaited each other’s hair. Tessa had insisted that Birdie leave at least some of her long tresses free, so she’d woven the hair around her face back into a series of delicate plaits fastened loosely at her nape, letting the rest hang in waves down her back.
Because of the trembling of her fingers, Birdie had only