Ewan looked at each man in the room, none of whom met his eyes. “Ye’re all traitors,” he said with a voice of authority. “And when this is all over, ye’ll die for yer betrayal.”
Cruim scoffed. “When this is over, they’ll be my most trusted warriors. And I’ll be the chieftain.” The rattle in his chest resumed, and he gave a wet cough.
There was a grayness to his pallor, and he seemed unsteady on his feet.
“Ye have this wrong,” Blair said. “Someone told us to meet here.”
Cruim looked at her, his expression blank. “I’m sure ye’ll say ye both got notes to come here, aye?”
Blair’s mouth fell open. “Aye, that’s what happened.”
“Which is exactly what I thought ye would say.” Cruim shook his head with disappointment. “’Tis how she said ye would try to talk yer way out of this.”
A chill crept down Ewan’s spine. “She?”
“Aye.” Cruim’s lip curled in disgust. “I wouldna even know about yer affair, or how ye’d both lied to me, had my daughter no’ been good enough to come forward. It wounded her to do it, especially when ye’d always been so close.”
Ewan went mute with shock. Why would Moiré tell her father about an affair that did not exist?
Why, unless… His blood turned to ice in his veins. Unless she was part of the plot to overthrow him and put his uncle in charge. And if that were the case, then Faye was in grave danger.
21
Faye raced through the cold stone halls of Dunrobin in a world blurred by tears. She had never been one to run from her troubles. They’d always been faced head-on and with determination.
At least, until the moment that Blair had entered the small, empty cottage with Ewan. The wind had caught her cloak and pushed it aside, revealing a salacious gown whose purpose was clear: seduction.
All the energy had whooshed out of Faye at that moment, dousing the fire that would have risen to the occasion. She ignored Moiré’s placating suggestions that there was surely a good explanation and that all would be well. Instead, Faye turned her horse and galloped the short distance back to the castle, not stopping until she was shuttered in her chamber.
It had been her intent to fall upon her bed and weep. For her and her lost marriage, for the child whose father had lied to them all, and for her pathetic heart that had finally cracked itself open to the possibility of hope. Of love.
What a fool she’d been.
She had trusted him. After a lifetime of disloyalty, she should have known better.
A missive sat atop her pillow with her name scrawled over its back. She stopped short and reached for it with shaking hands before carefully unfolding it. A whimper emerged from a throat swollen with sorrow.
Faye,
I tried to make the best of the union we were forced into but can no longer deny my feelings for Blair. You may return to your family posthaste as you are no longer required here.
Forgive me for telling you I loved you when I clearly do not.
- Ewan
The strength bled from Faye’s knees, and she sat down hard on the edge of her bed. The jeweled hilt of her dagger dug into her side.
He’d lied to her. Betrayed her.
The pain in Faye’s chest was horrific, a searing ache so large, it was difficult even to draw breath. She gasped for air. The hilt pinched at her side with each breath. With an irritated huff, she pulled it out and tossed it across the room where it clattered somewhere under a table. The energy bled away from her, as though that single act of anger was all she would ever have the strength for again.
“Faye?” Moiré appeared at her side. “What is it?”
Faye nudged the letter over the bedsheet, lacking the might to even lift it. Moiré’s gaze skimmed over the contents. Through it all, Faye studied her friend’s expression, eager to see disbelief in those brown eyes, to hear her refute the message and declare that Ewan would never do that.
Instead, her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Faye,” Moiré said softly.
“It can’t be true,” Faye protested. “Can it?”
“I have a way to find out.” Moiré prodded a key at the ring on Faye’s belt. “’Tis to the locked drawer in his solar. I’ve seen him put many things within. Important letters and…” she hesitated before adding apologetically, “missives he doesn’t want anyone else to see.”
The idea lodged uncomfortably in Faye’s stomach. What might be in there? If there was confirmation of a relationship with Blair and Ewan, did she even want to see? To purposefully drive a new spike of hurt?
“We must know,” Moiré said vehemently.
“We already know,” Faye replied.
“I’m going.” Moiré held out her hand. “Give me the key. I’ll tell ye what I find.”
A flicker of strength nudged Faye to her feet. She couldn’t allow Moiré to see such things without her.
They went to Ewan’s solar; the space was familiar with his large wooden desk and the simple space that smelled achingly of him. The spiciness that used to make Faye’s pulse quicken, sensual and masculine and wonderful. Now it was the blade that twisted into her heart.
The words from his note cycled through her mind, flitting about restlessly without ever fully settling. She approached the desk, and her trepidation swelled, like a living, breathing, all-consuming thing.
You are no longer required here.
As if she were a servant being readily dismissed.
She put the key into the locked drawer and slowly turned it. A metallic click pinged as the hasp sprang free.
Forgive me for telling you I loved you when I clearly do not.
It was that line that bothered her the most, which cut her the deepest.
She slid open the drawer and found a neat stack of notes bound with a green ribbon that matched the one Blair had worn on her wedding day. Faye inwardly winced even as she reached for the stack.
They were indeed from Blair.
