Ian stood in the doorway watching Sìleas. This was the new Sìleas again, all clean and combed in a moss-green gown—and so lovely he had to remind himself to breathe. She must have bathed in the tub in the kitchen, for her cheeks were pink and a damp curl was stuck to the side of her face.
He was surprised his father would let her hold his hand as if he were a child, until he realized his da was asleep. Though he was careful not to make a sound, she sensed his presence and turned. Today her eyes were the same dark mossy green as her gown, but touched with dew from tears that welled in her eyes.
“My mother said to tell ye dinner is ready,” he said in a hushed voice. “Are ye all right?”
Sìleas nodded and picked up the tray as she got up. When Ian stepped aside to let her pass, she said, “He’s not a well man. Ye shouldn’t have kept him up so late.”
Apparently, Sìleas had kindness in her heart for every member of his family but him.
“My father wanted to talk,” Ian said, “and I think it did him good.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she said with a sigh. “But have a care with him.”
Ian followed the provocative sway of her hips until she disappeared into the kitchen.
He continued watching her as they ate their midday meal. With that full bottom lip, her mouth was made for kissing. Every time she puckered and blew on her stew, his heart did an odd little leap in his chest. And his heart was not the only part of him affected. His cock was standing to attention, stiff as an English soldier.
Likely, Sìleas was foul-tempered toward him for not making his intentions clear. He had trouble recalling his reasons for waiting as he watched her take a spoonful into her mouth, smile with pleasure at the taste, and run her pink tongue across her top lip.
Perhaps he should just take her to bed now and have done with it. If the price of following his desire was gaining a wife, well, it was time he had one anyway.
Alex, the devil, was sitting next to Sìleas and plying her with his legendary charm. She threw her head back laughing at something he said. It was a lovely laugh—full-throated and sensual.
“I don’t believe a word you’re saying, Alex Bàn MacDonald!” Sìleas pressed her hand to her bosom as if she couldn’t get her breath. “Five men, ye say? How did ye ever escape?”
“Ye mean, how did they get away?” Alex asked. “ ’Twas nothing, really. I told them they could run, or they could die.”
It irked Ian the way Sìleas leaned forward with her eyes fixed on Alex, as if she were swallowing Alex’s tale whole.
“There were only three of them, not five,” Ian corrected, his words sounding peevish to his own ears.
Sìleas turned to face him, her smile fading. Lord, but she had pretty eyes, even when they were dead serious, as they were now. The scent of summer heather tickled his nose. Did she use dried heather in her bath water? Ah, that meant every inch of her skin would have that lovely smell.
“Now that we’ve mucked out the byre,” Ian said, “Alex and I are going to go speak to some of the men on this side of the island.”
“And why do ye need to do that?” Sìleas asked.
Ian raised his eyebrows. “Not that ye need to know, mind ye, but we intend to find out how the men feel about the prospect of having Hugh as their chieftain.”
“I can tell ye the sentiment toward Hugh, as can Niall,” Sìleas said, slicing her meat with enough vigor to cut through the table. “But if ye must ask the men yourself, they’ll all be at the church tomorrow.”
“A priest is visiting the island,” his mother explained. “Father Brian will be baptizing all the children born since he was here a year ago.”
There was always a shortage of priests in the Highlands. Unlike in France, the church here was poor. Though Highland chieftains might allow God the use of their lands for churches and monasteries, they did not give their lands away. Because the church could provide little to support them, few men joined the priesthood, and a priest who married was not turned out. As with divorce and marriage, the rules of the church were not strictly followed in the Highlands.
“Waiting to see the men at the church seems a good plan,” Alex said, giving Sìleas a bright smile. “Wouldn’t ye agree, Ian?”
Ian nodded, though he would rather go now, if only to feel he was doing something.
“And don’t ignore the womenfolk,” his mother put in. “Ná bac éinne ná bíonn buíochas na mban air.” Pay no heed to anyone that the womenfolk do not respect.
“Sìleas,” Alex said, “what do ye say to you and me going out in the boat this afternoon?”
Alex was trying to taunt him; Ian glared at him to let him know he did not find it amusing.
“That sounds lovely,” Sìleas said with a soft smile for Alex. “But after I clean up the kitchen, I must have a word with Ian here.”
She said his name like she might say pig shite.
Then she turned to level a hard look at him. “When ye have finished your meal, can ye spare a wee bit of time to speak with me?”
Sìleas might not look the same, but she was as direct as when she was a lass running wild. Clearly, she wanted to know where she stood with him. Her sharp words reminded him that he would be wise to give himself time before deciding his fate.
“Do ye have no woman to help in the kitchen?” Ian asked, only partly because he wanted to divert her. They had always had one clanswoman or another who needed a home, living with them and helping his mother.
“Some of the men came to ask your da’s advice regarding the selection of a new chieftain,” his mother said. “He urged them to wait for Connor’s return—and Hugh Dubh has been punishing us ever since.”
“When Hugh threatened everyone who worked here,” Sìleas said, “we told them to leave.”
“Go along now and talk with Ian,” his mother said, taking the bowls from Sìleas. “I’ll clean up.”
As Ian got to his feet, Niall came in through the door. Instead of giving him the sharp edge of her tongue for missing dinner, Sìleas’s expression softened when she saw him.
“Niall, can ye join Ian and me?”
Now, why would she be asking Niall to join them?
“Whatever ye need, I’m there,” Niall said, smiling at her as he hung his cap by the door.
“I appreciate it.” Sìleas’s voice wavered a bit, as if Niall had done something special that touched her—when all she showed Ian was irritation.
As he followed Sìleas up the stairs, the smell of heather filled his nose. He couldn’t help taking in her slim ankles and the sway of her skirts as she climbed the steep steps. Lifting his gaze, he imagined her smooth, rounded bottom beneath the skirts.
She led them into the room that had been his bedchamber growing up. It looked different now, with pretty stones lining the windowsill and dried flowers in a jug on the table. His stomach tightened with the memory of the last time he was in this room—their “wedding” night, when he had spent a long, restless night on the hard floor.
He glanced at his old bed—the bed she slept in now. If he chose, he could sleep here with her every night. He was hard just thinking about it. If he stayed with her, he would build a new bed for them suitable for Knock Castle, with posts and heavy curtains like he had seen in France.
After taking a chair at the table, she gestured for him and Niall to do the same. Niall sat opposite her, as if by habit, leaving Ian to pull up a stool between them, facing the wall.
“I don’t know if ye realize how verra badly injured your da was when we first got him back.” Sìleas spoke in a soft voice and fixed her gaze on the table.
“Da didn’t wake for a fortnight,” Niall put in. “ ’Twas a miracle he lived.”
His father wished to God he hadn’t, crippled as he was. In his place, Ian would feel the same.
“Since ye were not here, Niall and I have been making the decisions that needed to be made these last few weeks,” Sìleas said, her tone becoming clipped again. “I hope you’ll be satisfied with what we’ve done.”
“What sort of decisions?” Ian asked.
Sìleas stood to take down a sheaf of papers from the shelf above the table. “How many cattle to slaughter for the winter, which sheep to sell or trade, that sort of thing.”
What could be more tedious?
Sìleas sat down and pushed the stack of papers across the table to him. “Now that you are here, these are your decisions to make.” She paused, then added, “At least until your da is well.”
Ian glanced down. There were figures all down the first page. “What do ye expect me to do with these?”
“Sìleas will have to explain it to ye,” Niall said, grinning at her. “She’s been helping da manage our lands and tenants for years. Ye should hear him, always bragging about how clever she is.”
His father? Letting a lass help him and boasting about it? Ian didn’t want to accuse his brother of lying, but, truly, this was hard to fathom.
Ian watched Sìleas as she spoke about cattle and crops, listening more to the sound of her voice than her words. He did notice how she repeatedly brought Niall into her recitation. What impressed him as much as her enthusiasm for the tedious details was how she recognized his brother’s need to be relied upon as a man.
His father certainly showed no concern for Niall’s pride. Remembering his father’s harshness toward Niall, Ian felt a rush of warmth toward Sìleas for her kindness to his brother. He would have to ask her why his da was so angry with Niall.
With his mind on Niall and his father, he didn’t realize she was finished going over the accounts until she was on her feet.
“I must go now,” she said, smoothing her skirts, “or the clothes will never be washed and you’ll have no supper.”
Without thinking, Ian said, “Isn’t running the household my mother’s responsibility?” This brought a second question to mind that had been nagging him. Gesturing to the sheaf of papers before him, he said, “Why was she not the one to make these decisions in da’s place?”
“Do ye think I took it from her?” Sìleas asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Is that what ye think?”
The hurt in Sìleas’s eyes cut him to the quick.
“I did not mean—,” he started to say, but she cut him off.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, though clearly it did. “You’ll be taking over the task now, so I’ll leave ye to it.”
“Wait,” Ian said, catching her arm. “You’ve done a fine job with it, and I’d be happy to have ye continue.”
“ ’Tis no my place to do it now,” she said in a tight voice.
Ach, he felt lower than dirt. But before he could get out a word of apology, she was out the door. No sooner was she gone, than his brother slammed his fist on the table.
“Ye have no notion what it’s been like here, while you’ve been off having your adventures,” Niall said.
Ian met his brother’s angry gaze. “Then you’ll have to tell me.”
“Da was barely alive when I got him home.” Niall worked his jaw as he leaned forward and stared at his hands. “I don’t know what we would have done without Sìleas. She was the one who washed his wounds every day and put on the salve she got from Teàrlag.”
Grief and guilt curled together in Ian’s gut. He would never know if he could have saved his father from injury had he been at his side in the battle. But he was as good as any man with a sword, so he might have made a difference.
“During the time da did not waken,” Niall said, “Sìleas spent hours at his bedside, talking and reading to him as if he could hear every word.”
It struck Ian as odd that Niall spoke only of Sìleas taking care of their father. “What about mam?”
“Mam stopped speaking when she thought da was dying. She was like the walking dead herself.” Niall kept his eyes fixed on his hands and spoke in a low, rough voice. “Sìl and I did our best to make her eat, but she grew so weak we feared we would lose her, too.”
Guilt was bitter in Ian’s throat. Niall was far too young for the burden he’d been carrying—and it was Ian’s burden.
“Mam’s been much better since da woke up a couple of weeks ago. But da…” Niall turned to gaze out the small window. “Well, it’s been almost worse since he awoke and found his leg was gone.”
Ian leaned across the table and squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. We came as soon as we heard the news of the battle.”
“Ye should have been here long before then,” Niall said, his voice hard. “For Sìleas, ye should have been here. You’ve shamed her by leaving her for so long.”
Ian had never considered that his absence might shame her. Until he returned, he had thought of her as an awkward girl not ready for marriage.
“One way or another, I will make it right,” Ian said. “I am grateful to ye for taking care of the family in my absence.”
“It’s Sìleas ye should be thanking, not me.” His brother stood abruptly, jostling the table. He was shaking with anger. “Sìleas has worked herself to the bone, keeping the family going these last weeks. Did ye not see the circles under her eyes? I do my best to help her, but it’s no enough.”
“I’ll see to things now,” Ian said, keeping his voice quiet.
“Then you’d best convince her to stay,” Niall said, “for we cannot do without her.”
“Sìleas is not going anywhere soon.” At least not until he made up his mind.
“ ’Tis a wonder she hasn’t left ye yet,” Niall said, his eyes burning into Ian. “If ye don’t know it, there is a line of men just waiting for her to lose patience with ye.”