“How did the elder brother die?”
Harcourt shrugged. “In some battle in France. David always bemoaned the fact that he didnae ken the how or even the where of Nigel’s death. Nay e’en the when. The letters, though ne’er plentiful, just stopped coming about seven years ago. Every inquiry David sent out brought back naught.”
Gybbon looked out on the land beyond the wall. “Ye could always set Nicolas here to watch o’er the land just as Brett set ye in Gormfeurach.”
“Nicolas has no kinship to me or to Annys. It wouldnae hold long.”
“Nay, mayhap not.” Gybbon clapped Harcourt on the back. “Ye will think of something if ye find ye have the need to do so.”
The need to do so was growing stronger every day, Harcourt thought. Each time he had to hold back because her people were around watching them, or he had to slip out of the bedchamber with a care to get away unseen, his resentment of such secrecy grew. He wanted to openly claim Annys as his. The thought of riding away from her once Sir Adam was defeated stung more sharply with each passing hour. It would be as if he had left behind a piece of himself.
He began to think he had done just that when he had left her years ago.
It was far past time that he took a good deep look into his own heart, Harcourt decided. Far past time to make a few hard choices as well. Not only was his indecision embarrassingly clear to his men who knew him so well, but he was finding it irritating himself.
“Who is that?”
Gybbon’s question pulled Harcourt from his thoughts. He followed the direction of Gybbon’s pointing finger and looked out at two distant figures riding toward them. A moment later he breathed a sigh of relief, one heavy weight lifting off his shoulders.
“’Tis those cursed MacFingals returning,” he replied.
“Ye can see that from this far away with naught to aid ye but a weak setting sun mostly covered by clouds?”
“I can see the shape of them, how they sit a horse, and e’en a wee bit of the horses. Enough to recognize the beasts as the ones the MacFingals took when they left. Those vain fools near always wear their hair loose as weel, just as those two riders do.”
“So, ye didnae send them to their deaths as ye had begun to fear.”
Harcourt scowled at Gybbon as he turned to begin his way down off the walls. “I didnae think that. They sent word now and then. I kenned they would be back when they found something we needed to know.” He ignored Gybbon’s mocking snort of laughter.
The MacFingals were riding into the bailey by the time Harcourt got there to greet them. He noticed that both men had returned with more than they had left with. Extra very full packs were secured on each horse.
“Did ye go to a market on your way back here?” Harcourt asked even as he prayed the thievery they had so clearly indulged in was not something he would have to strenuously object to.
“Aye, in a way,” replied Nathan, grinning widely. “We decided Sir Adam’s men didnae need to be carrying so much about on Lady Annys’s land so we kindly lightened their burden a wee bit.”
Harcourt shook his head. “And they are nay hunting ye down?”
“May be but nay this way. They think we came from the far north.”
“Come inside then. We can talk while ye have some food and drink.”
It did not trouble Harcourt when he caught no sight of Annys as he and the others entered the hall. All that had occurred in the last few days, from discovering Biddy’s betrayal to her own close escape, had exhausted her. It would not surprise him if she had slipped away for a brief nap before the evening meal was all set out. He knew he should feel guilty over the fact that his greed for her lush body had undoubtedly added to that weariness he had seen in her of late, but he found that he did not.
“So, what have ye discovered?” he asked the MacFingals after they all sat at the table and the two men began to fill their plates with food. “Ye were gone a long while, long enough that I was thinking on which of my kin I would be willing to sacrifice by sending them to Scarglas with the news that I had lost you.”
Ned laughed and shook his head. “Those fool men of Sir Adam’s ne’er suspected us. Thought we were naught but two more men who thought to earn a few coins for swinging a sword around. Only one I was worried about was Sir Adam himself for I wasnae certain if he had remembered us here with ye that time he came or e’en when someone was watching Glencullaich.”
“But he hadnae.”
“He may have,” said Nathan as he refilled his tankard with ale, having downed the first drink with unhesitant greed, “but he is one of those men who doesnae notice the soldiers or servants, only those of a higher birth. He didnae e’en like coming round to speak with us, always using that fellow Clyde to do his talking for him.”