Chapter 4

"We'll keep our secrets, will we nae?" Shay declared, continuing with their conversation as if he had not just rocked the ground beneath Gilchrist's feet with this awful news. "Let us give each other a wide berth in this castle. I dinnae wish tae see ye, as ye dinnae wish tae see me. Give me that and yer dirty little secret about yer bloodline remains a secret." Shay marched past him and walked out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The moment the door was shut, Gilchrist found the nearest chair. He sat down, dropping the dirk to the ground and raising his hands over his face.

"She's dead," he whispered aloud in horror. There was so much he wanted to ask, each question unlikely to ever have an answer. How long had she been dead? Did the child survive? Had she loved Shay in the end? Was she at least happy, even for a short time? Was everything he did in vain?

Michael felt a familiar sensation in his chest, the reconfirmation of the vicious hatred he still had for the man responsible for her death, Shay.

"And now he is pursuing Kyven." The thought made his head reel. He scrambled to pick up the dirk, shoved it in his belt, then leapt from the room. Marching down the corridor he headed out of the castle, practically running.

Some of the guards called to him, wishing to chat as they so often did, but he had no words to spare for them. He held up his hand in silent meaning – he could not talk now. They did not bother to try again.

Out in the grounds, the wind tried to knock him from his feet. He walked around young recruits attempting to sword fight, striking air more than they did one another, then he headed straight into the barracks and toward his chamber. He kicked open the door making it bang off the wall inside.

"God's death, are ye trying tae kill me with fright?"

Gilchrist halted, looking at Aaden who was sitting in his chamber beside a table, a dram of whisky already in his hand.

"Aaden," Gilchrist's voice was dark. "Out. I need time tae think." He pulled the door open and pointed to the hall.

Yet Aaden didn't move to stand. Instead, he reached for a second cup and poured out a little more whisky.

"Something tells me ye need this," Aaden said calmly, now recovered from his surprise at Gilchrist's sudden entrance. "Yer expression has been one of thunder ever since I told ye that Laird Shay Lamont was tae marry Lady Kyven."

Gilchrist closed the door and hurried to take the whisky from Aaden's grasp. He downed it and put the cup down again, ready for it to be topped up. Fortunately, Aaden dutifully did so without asking why he felt the need to drink so much in the middle of the day.

"Ye ken him?" Aaden said after Gilchrist had finished the second cup. Gilchrist didn't answer but started pacing the room. "Ye pace now? Ye are never a man who paces. Ye sit in the corners of room and stare stoically and silently at everyone, even when news is bad, but pacing? Captain, this isnae ye."

Gilchrist simply paced back the other way.

"Would I get more of an answer having a conversation with these walls?" Aaden asked, then turned to face one of the walls of the chamber. "Mad, is he?" he said, nudging the wall, as if it would speak back to him. "Come off it, Captain. Ye ken him."

"What makes ye say that?"

"The fact that I had tae hold ye back, that ye leapt forward as if ye might slit the man's throat there and then."

"I wouldnae have harmed him."

"Ye had yer hand on yer dirk," Aaden reminded him.

Gilchrist thought back to the moment. It was possible he had wanted to use the weapon. He had felt such a surge of anger at seeing Laird Shay Lamont again, he hadn't been thinking straight.

He'd mostly thought of Kyven. He thought of sweet Kyven, who liked to paint in the quiet library, being courted by the brash and vain Laird Shay.

Nature argues against it. He willnae get near Kyven!

"Who is he?" Aaden asked again, calmly now.

Gilchrist turned to face Aaden. If he told the truth, he stood every chance of being thrown out not only of the castle, but the clan. Yet the reasons to stay silent were now fading.

Shay had first blackmailed Michael into leaving so he could get his hands on Elisa. Now, Elisa was lost to them all. It meant he could go back to his brothers, and apologize for the pain he had caused all those years ago, but could he go?

Nay. I cannae leave Kyven here alone with a man like that.

"I hazard a guess that yer thoughts are currently as turbulent as this wind." Aaden gestured to the window as it rattled in its frame because of the wind. "It may help tae talk about it with someone." Aaden snatched the cup away before Gilchrist could drink anymore from it.

"That's me whisky."

"And I am the one pouring it. Ye want more? Come on, out with the truth."

"Ye will nae like it," Gilchrist said, grimacing as he sat down in the chair on the other side of the table to Aaden.

"I'll accept it. Come on, Captain Gilchrist."

"Tae start…" Gilchrist held his breath. "Ye may want tae hold off addressing me by that name." Aaden paused, no longer topping up the cups. "Me name isnae Gilchrist. It's Michael. Michael Gregor."

The bottler slipped out of Aaden's hand and smashed on the ground.

"Ridiculous council," Kyven muttered angrily under her breath as she left the council rooms and hastened through the castle. It seemed that after having seen Laird Shay Lamont, the men of the council were even more eager than before for her to marry him. He was impressive to look at, a man who carried weapons at his hip and clearly knew how to fight.

They want a warrior laird.

"This is mad. I have only met the man once!" Kyven had to talk about it with someone. There was always Helen, but Helen seemed to have a preoccupation with talking about the marriage bed today, and Kyven had no wish to think about Laird Shay and a bed. No, she would need to talk to someone else for some good advice.

She headed to the library. It was late enough in the afternoon that it wouldn't be unusual to find Gilchrist in there. As she opened the door though, the scent of the books filled the air, but there was no candle there to greet her, nor a flame in the hearth. The box chair where Gilchrist usually sat was empty.

Where are ye, Gilchrist?

She sat down in his chair, knowing it would rile him to have her there, though he would never tip her out of it as she was the lady of the clan. She waited, watching the sun disappear past the window as afternoon drew on and the winter night came in thick and fast. She lit a candle to keep her company as darkness fell, praying Gilchrist would come soon, but he never did.

The room stayed empty and cold.

Closing her eyes, Kyven sat back in the chair and thought of what she had seen in Gilchrist that day. She thought of his expression when Laird Shay had bowed to her – anger. It was unmistakable now she thought back to it, though it had been hard to discern at the time. Then there was the panic as Aaden held him back, the balled fists at his side as if he might lash out any second.

The expression that was imprinted in her mind the most, however, was when he had placed his hand on her waist to steady the two of them in the feasting room, when they had collided. That expression was unreadable to her, even now. The eyes… they had been deep, staring at her as if some greater meaning was hidden within them, and his lips had been parted a little.

"What were ye thinking, Gilchrist?" she asked aloud as if one of the books he'd read in that room would come alive and give her the answer.

All remained silent.

"Well…" Aaden managed to say eventually.

Gilchrist had just finished explaining to Aaden exactly how he knew Shay. He'd explained how he was the younger brother of the Laird of the Gregors, how Shay had threatened to kill Elisa and his brothers if he didn't leave, and how he had ended up there. He'd also explained how he had just found out that Elisa was dead.

"Well?" Gilchrist barked, repeating the word impatiently to have an answer from Aaden.

"Well, I owe ye a new bottle of whisky." He pointed down at the smashed bottle that neither of them had attempted to retrieve.

"That is all ye can say?" Gilchrist stood once more, unable to stay sitting. "After all I have told ye, ye simply bemoan the loss of a good drink?"

"Calm down, I'm thinking things through, Michael."

"Michael…" Gilchrist spun around, his hands in his hair as he considered that name. For so long, it had not been his name. He'd simply got used to not responding to it. Michael wasn't him anymore.

Or was he?

"Ye going tae tell Lady Kyven I'm a Gregor?" Gilchrist asked darkly.

"Pah! Ye could run me through before I could blink," Aaden said with a laugh. "I would hardly risk such a thing, would I?"

"Aaden. Be serious," Gilchrist pleaded.

"Very well." Aaden held up his hands in surrender. "A Gregor ye may be, but the matter of our blood is nae the summary of who we are. I ken who ye are, Gilchrist, Michael, or whatever it is I should call ye now. I might just stick tae Captain tae make it easier." Gilchrist nodded in agreement to this. "Ye are me friend. I ken ye are a good man. I also ken that the reason ye are still here and pacing up and down yer barracks restlessly is ye now fear the fate of yer former love Elisa, may now become Kyven's."

Gilchrist halted. He turned around once more to face Aaden, but much slower this time.

"I ken." Aaden nodded. "Ye will tell me ye and Kyven are nae in love –"

"We are nae!"

"There is something between ye though."

"That is nae what is important now." Gilchrist waved his hand dismissively. "If Shay is here, then he wants something. He only ever wanted Elisa because she was the daughter of a laird. I bet ye anything that her father's lands are now his own. Look where he has come today? Tae another lass that needs tae marry, another set of lands that need a laird."

"I see what ye mean." Aaden nodded thoughtfully. "He comes tae wed her in order tae control the land."

"And who kens where he will go from there." Gilchrist circled the room. Seeing he did not have nearly enough weapons in his belt, he went to a coffer at the edge of the room, lifted the lid and started attaching more weapons. He took out two more dirks and another sword. "Would he kill Kyven, I wonder? Tae move ontae the next lass? Or manipulate her? Drive her intae the ground in misery and despair? She's too good fer a fate like that. Too kind of heart. I willnae let it happen."

"Aye, aye, I hear ye. It's rare tae hear ye say so much. Though if ye mind me saying, ye marching into that castle and running Shay through with a sword willnae do much good."

Gilchrist paused, looking around at Aaden, with his hands still on the weapons in his belt.

"Ye want tae be hanged fer the murder of a laird?" Aaden asked with a shrug. "If that is the future ye fancy, then go ahead." He smiled and waved a hand at Gilchrist. "But if ye would like tae save Lady Kyven from this fate and live tae see the future, may I suggest an alternative?"

"What alternative?" Gilchrist asked. He fidgeted with the weapons at his belt. They were still not enough. He reached back into the coffer and pulled out a flintlock pistol, attaching that to his belt too along with a powder flask.

"It seems tae me that the best plan would be tae make sure Lady Kyven doesnae marry Laird Shay."

"Aye! That's the aim."

"What if… we could persuade her intae marrying ye instead?"