Ewan and Faye arrived at the castle with enough time to prepare themselves at the Great Hall and summon his uncle, Cruim. Any attempts to encourage Faye to adjourn to their rooms while Ewan handled the Gordons was met with her obdurate insistence that she attend. After a heated exchange, she finally conceded to wait in the hall as she had done when her grandfather had come for her.
With Faye securely out of sight from the already irate Gordons, Ewan waited with barely tethered patience for Cruim. Monroe arrived first with a rushed pace to be at Ewan’s side and eventually, Cruim joined them in his usual way, his lope unhurried, unfettered. His expression was placid as ever, his bushy gray eyebrows lifted in question as though he couldn’t possibly wager to guess why he’d been summoned.
Ewan narrowed his eyes at his uncle. “I hear ye’ve made an alliance with the Gordons.”
“I’m protecting the agreement ye negotiated with them,” Cruim replied simply.
There appeared to be no malice in his expression. As though he’d truly meant to help. He’d always been so good at playing innocent, hiding his cleverness behind the eyes of a dullard. It was why Ewan couldn’t cast him from the clan for what he’d done, not when Cruim was so adept at having his actions appear to be for the good of the clan.
Ewan looked to Monroe and found his friend’s expression to be one of resignation. Which meant Monroe agreed with the idea of the alliance with the Gordons. Damn.
“Ye negotiated this without my authority,” Ewan said to his uncle between clenched teeth.
“It had already been negotiated,” Cruim argued. “By ye. We need the alliance from the Gordons.”
“We have an alliance with the Ross clan.” Anger simmered at the edge of Ewan’s patience, singeing it with red hot intensity. “We needed the aid from the Gordons to prevent the Ross attacks. That isna required any longer.”
“Nor is a new feud with the Gordons.” Cruim’s cheeks puffed out with an unexpected cough. He cleared his throat and straightened. “My marriage will ensure—”
The door to the Great Hall banged open, and the Gordon chieftain entered with the authority of a man set on getting his way. “Cruim,” he cried out to Ewan’s uncle as if they were old friends. The two locked forearms and patted one another affectionately on the back.
Ewan narrowed his eyes as he observed the comfortable interaction between the two. They had been well acquainted for some time based on their camaraderie. How much of Ewan’s prior negotiations with the Gordons had been moved by his uncle’s hand?
Never had Ewan questioned it until that moment. But now…
Gordon turned his attention to Ewan and scowled. “I want the marriage terms drawn up to include Cruim rather than yerself.”
Ewan shook his head. “I dinna sanction this union.”
“Ye will,” Gordon stepped forward. “Ye’ve had us as tentative allies for years. We’ve helped ye in yer time of need—”
“As we’ve done for ye.” Ewan matched the other chieftain’s step with one of his own, so they stood in front of one another.
Gordon’s mouth pinched together at the nudging reminder of how Huntly would have been taken were it not for the efforts of Sutherland warriors coming to their aid.
“I’d like to keep our alliance.” Gordon lifted his head, so the furrow of his brow hid the gleam of his bald head. “Much more than ye being an enemy.”
Ewan cocked his chin upward. “What are ye saying?”
Gordon stared; his gray eyes unblinking. “Either ye give us this marriage, or ye’ll have a war on yer hands.”
Ewan glanced to his uncle but did not find triumph on his face. Instead, there was the same expressionless set to his features. As if none of it mattered to him, as though he had not acted as a traitor to his own people.
“When would this occur?” Ewan demanded.
“Two days’ time.” Gordon grinned, revealing a mouthful of crooked teeth. “’Tis when my Blair will be arriving. Ye know lasses always take a goodly amount of time with travel.”
“’Tis hardly time to prepare a feast,” Ewan protested. Mayhap if he could buy more time—
“We dinna need a feast,” Gordon replied. “Simply a marriage.”
Ewan looked once more to Monroe in the hopes he might offer a protest, some form of a hole in the contract that could be exploited to their benefit. Ewan’s advisor gave an almost indiscernible shake of his head.
Ewan wanted to rage against the other chieftain, to throw the contract in his smirking face. But that would solve nothing. He had always been the calm one. It had been his brother, Ragnall, whose temper had run hot.
An alliance with the Gordons would benefit the Sutherland clan overall. Why then was Ewan so against it?
He was ashamed of the answer as it pushed to the forefront in his mind.
Pride.
And where there was pride, there was failure. Ewan knew his answer regardless of how little he liked it.
He only hoped Faye could get with child quickly and that their child would indeed be a boy, for it could very well mean the future of the clan.
10
Faye remained pressed up to the doorframe, her ear locked against the narrow gap to catch the low rumble of Ewan’s voice.
She hated being pushed behind a door again, set back from the action, but she understood Ewan’s reasoning. She was who he had married instead of the one named Blair. Surely, her presence would be a slap in the face.
But who was Blair, and why had Ewan not mentioned her? Apparently, he would have wed her had Faye not been dragged to the highlands. The idea of another woman crowded into Faye’s thoughts.
She strained to listen, her heart caught in her chest for the man who had so bravely saved her
