Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

T hree weeks later, Gunn castle…

Benedict Gunn sat in a high-backed chair next to the roaring fire in his brother's study, swirling the amber liquid around in the glass he lightly held in his hand. Audor, his twin brother, and laird of Clan Gunn, remained at his desk, examining rent payments.

"I still dinnae ken how ye can dae it," Benedict said. "Marrying fer an alliance is one thing. But marrying a woman ye've never even met is a different thing entirely."

Audor lifted his head and cocked an eyebrow. "We cannae all have romantic liaisons in the library, braither."

"Fer all that came o' it," Benedict huffed.

"Ye are pining fer her," Audor chuckled. "In fact, I'd go as far as tae say ye're obsessed. I still cannae believe ye didnae catch her name. I tell ye, Benedict, ye are losing yer touch."

Absently, Benedict brought his fingers to his lips as he remembered that kiss. His mouth had been too busy doing other things. Asking her name had not been important at the time. He supposed there might have been a chance afterward to do so, but it had ended as quickly as it had started, and then, she was gone.

"Obsessed is a bit o' a strong word," Benedict countered.

"Aye, maybe ye're right. I mean, it's nae like ye've been talking about her non-stop since it happened, right?" Ardor said, giving him a smug look.

Benedict could hardly deny it. In fact, he had been on a mission ever since, trying to discover who the lass was. Anyone he had spoken to had no idea who he was talking about, and other than being able to describe how beautiful she was, he really had nothing else to go on. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

"I'm sure ye'll meet up with her again," Audor said. "She cannae be from such a distance if she was at Laird Mackay's wedding."

"Och, come on, Audor. Did ye see how many people were there? Did ye speak tae some o' them? I spoke tae nae less than five people who had travelled from the far coast in the east." Benedict shook his head. "It is hopeless. Nae one kens who she is, nor dae I have any clue where tae start looking."

"Then I'll just have tae find ye another pretty lass tae take yer mind off this one." Audor grabbed the papers he had been examining and shuffling them together into a neat pile, he placed them on one side of his desk. Standing, he moved to the dresser and poured himself a drink, and then joined his brother at the fire.

"Besides," he said, lowering himself down in a matching chair, "me wedding will occur shortly. I'm certain there will be plenty o' lasses tae choose from there."

"Aye, I'm sure that will make it all better," Benedict replied sarcastically, giving his brother a knowing look.

Audor smirked at him, before taking a sip of his drink and turning his gaze to the flickering flames of the fire. "I may have tae be away again in a couple o' days. If that is the case, I'll need ye tae cover fer me once more."

Benedict gazed at his brother. "Can ye nae tell me anything about what ye're doing?"

"I've already told ye. It's safer if ye dinnae ken. It's safer if nay one kens right now. That's why I'm nae telling the council. The only people that ken I'm away are ye and Killian."

"Aye, only because he's the only one who can tell us apart," Benedict replied.

"Believe me, braither. It's fer the best."

By Audor's tone, Benedict knew not to push the subject any further. He wished he could help him with whatever it was he was doing, but if Audor wouldn't let him in on his plan, there was little he could do about it. If there was one thing Audor was good at, it was protecting his clan.

Loyal to a fault, he had always been an honest man, though he had been thrown into his lairdship far too young. Seven years had passed by so quickly, but not so quickly that either Benedict or Audor would ever forget the murder of their parents. They had only been three and twenty when it happened. Grown men they might have been, but neither of them was ready or had the experience to take control of the clan. And yet, they had been given little choice.

With their father gone, Audor had taken the lairdship and had been thrown into responsibilities he knew little about. The council had, of course, supported him completely, and now, seven years later, and at the age of thirty, his brother was a respected laird across the land.

"How long will ye be gone fer this time?"

Audor shrugged. "It's hard tae tell, but?—"

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and once Audor had bid the person to enter, they both turned to see Killian striding into the study. While he was the twins' cousin, he looked nothing like either of them. His hair was short and black, his eyes were a deep blue, and the many battle scars across his body made him look more than intimidating.

When Killian's parents were murdered, he had been just a boy six years old. Being his brother's son, Laird Darragh Gunn, Benedict and Audor's father, had taken him in and raised him as his own. Cousins they might be, but they were as close as brothers. Besides, it was not just family ties that bound them. They had all sustained the same wound. A wound that could not be seen with the naked eye. A wound that was deep and painful. Each of them had lost parents to murder, and while Benedict and Audor did, on occasion, speak about it, Killian remained closed down.

He was the best warrior in the clan. But Benedict knew that each battle took much more out of him than it might another man. After a drunken night where Killian, with loosened lips, had spoken of his pain, he had confessed to Benedict that he saw each and every enemy as though they were the one who had killed his parents.

His cousin hid his pain well, though. On the outside, he was easy-going and fun to be around. He liked the lasses and had bedded more than Benedict could number. He had always wondered, though, if that, too, had something to do with the burden he carried.

"A rider has informed me that Laird Sinclair and his entourage have been spotted on the hill," Killian said, getting straight to the point. "Yer bride will likely be at the castle in the next half hour. We will meet them at the gates."

"And good day tae ye, too, Killian," Benedict teased.

Killian gave Benedict a playful scowl.

"Thank ye, Killian. Get a drink. Come, join us." Audor gestured to a chair.

After filling a glass, Killian dropped himself down beside the brothers. "Are ye nervous?" he said, looking directly at Audor.

Audor shook his head and frowned. "What is there tae be nervous about? I'm getting married, nae going intae battle."

"I dinnae ken," Killian shrugged with a smirk, "some men might tell ye it's the same thing."

The men laughed at that comment.

"I'd be more worried about what yer future bride looks like," Benedict added. "Ye've never met her. She might resemble a moose."

Audor snorted at that comment, but Killian shook his head. "I think ye may be wrong there, Benedict. From what I've heard, both the Sinclair sisters are bonnie wee lasses."

"Och, well. That's all right then. She might nae have a brain in her skull, but at least she'll be a pretty charm on yer arm," Benedict sniggered.

"Aye, well. At least I ken where me sweetheart is, which is more than ye can say fer yers."

Killian chuckled at that comment, and threw a knowing look at Benedict. "As usual, yer braither is right."

"Aye. And doesnae he ken it?" Benedict growled playfully.

The men finished the last dregs of their drinks, and then Audor stood. "We should make a move here. I dinnae want our guests arriving without a proper welcome."

When the three were out in the corridor, Killian continued the conversation. "Ye're getting a rare privilege, Audor. Nay one has seen Laird Sinclair since his wife's murder. In fact, I hear he hasnae left his castle since it happened."

"Aye, it's a sad affair. But it's the reason this marriage is going ahead. Laird Alisdair Keith wanted an alliance with Clan Sinclair, even though he'd been a rival for years."

"Aye, I ken," Killian said. "When Sinclair refused, Keith had Mary, his wife, brutally murdered. He is not a man."

Killian sounded angrier than he ought, under the circumstances, but Benedict could only imagine it was the fact that yet another parent had been murdered that angered him.

"Well, Laird Keith hasnae stopped there. He's been relentless in his attacks ever since, which is why Laird Sinclair and I agreed tae this alliance. Our clan will get lands and coin, and he will get the support o' our larger army."

"I just hope ye ken what ye're doing, braither," Benedict said with a sigh.

"Why are ye so against this alliance?" Audor asked firmly.

They were now making their way down the wide stone staircase, and at the bottom, Benedict came to a stop and looked his brother in the eye. "Fer a start, ye've never met this lass. God only kens if yer even going tae like her, never mind, having tae spend the rest o' yer life with her. Second, ye're only thirty. There's still time fer ye tae actually find someone ye might fall in love with. And third, once ye're married, I'm nae going tae have ye at me side when we're at the taverns and looking fer lasses." Benedict grinned.

Audor smiled, shook his head, and then continued walking. "I understand yer concerns, Benedict. And I appreciate ye looking out fer me. But this is a good deal fer our clan. Besides, Laird Sinclair is a fine laird. He needs our help, and I intend tae give it."

"Ye can always get a mistress if things dinnae work out," Killian offered.

"Nay!" Audor and Benedict barked at the same time. They both glared at Killian, who seemed to shrink under the visual attack.

"All right," he said weakly, raising his hands in surrender. "It was only an idea."

"Ye should ken me braither better than that, Killian," Benedict growled.

"I dae," Killian countered. "I just thought it was something tae consider."

"Ye're a fool tae think he would even consider it."

"Clearly," Killian said a little sarcastically.

They were now out in the courtyard and making their way to the gates. The huge wooden barriers stood open, guards standing alert as they watched the approaching horses and carriages. There were a great deal of them, but Laird Sinclair led the convoy on his horse

"He looks old," Audor said quietly.

Benedict caught sight of Laird Sinclair. He had only met the man once, and it had been some years ago, but Audor was right. The man looked like he had aged twenty years. He supposed the death of a beloved wife would do that to a man.

"I'm sorry," Killian murmured. He was stood at Benedicts left, while Audor remained at his right. By the low tone, Killian clearly did not want Audor to hear him.

Benedict turned and spoke to Killian in equally low tones. "Ye should ken better, cousin. Audor is a loyal man. He values integrity nearly more than any other quality."

Killian looked subdued. "I ken. I just wasnae thinking."

Benedict placed an arm on his shoulder. "Listen. Dinnae worry yersel' about it. Audor willnae hold it against ye."

"Well," Audor said. "It looks like I made a good deal after all."

Benedict and Killian both looked up, for following on behind Laird Sinclair, was a horse and trap with two lasses sitting upon it.

Benedict's jaw fell open at the sight of them. In fact, he could hardly believe what he was seeing. Could this be? There before his very eyes, was the lass he had kissed in the library. The lass he had been searching for ever since. The lass he had not been able to get out of his mind. She sat next to an equally pretty lass. The only trouble was, he didn't know which sister was which.

Had he kissed the sister of his brother's betrothed, or had he actually kissed Lady Evelyn Sinclair, the lass his brother was about to marry?