When the meal was finished, Rosalia placed a sleeping Lachlann in bed while Sybella retired with Aunt Iseabail to the ladies’ solar—another place Sybella had yet to search. Perhaps she could find an opportunity to discreetly hunt for the stone.

The room was similar to the one at Kintail, with dainty pictures of the fairer sex wearing delicate gowns. At least the conversation was better than the same boring subjects at Kintail. When Sybella thought of the many times that Mary had reprimanded her for her stitching, a shudder passed through her. Surprisingly, life at Glengarry was becoming more like home.

Rosalia returned with a wine sack. “Finally, Lachlann is asleep. I brought us something to relax.”

“What is that?” asked Aunt Iseabail.

“My husband’s ale.”

Aunt Iseabail held her hand over her heart. “My dear, are ye trying to kill me? That ale will knock me out for days.”

“Come now, Seanmhair, a drink will nae hurt ye. In fact, it might be exactly what ye need. ’Tisnae only a man’s drink. Can ye grab some cups from the shelf, Sybella?”

Sybella grabbed three cups and placed them on the table. She sat down beside Rosalia, who poured a healthy amount of MacGregor’s ale into each cup and handed one to each of them.

“Before we drink, let me make a toast,” said Rosalia. “To kin.”

“To kin,” answered Aunt Iseabail and Sybella in unison.

Sybella took a mouthful, clamping her eyes shut as she swallowed. The liquid burned down her throat like the hottest of fires. When she opened her eyes, Rosalia had already poured the women another.

“’Tis your turn to make a toast, Seanmhair.”

Aunt Iseabail lifted her cup. “To my bonny Lachlann, the dearest lad in all the land.”

“Aww…Who couldnae drink to that?” asked Sybella. She took another mouthful and closed her eyes again as she swallowed. The liquid was warm as it traveled down her throat but not quite as bad as the first time—or in Alex’s study.

Aunt Iseabail placed her cup back on the table. “That is it for me, Rosalia. I am off to bed.”

“Ye cannae take your leave just yet. Sybella hasnae made a toast.”

Aunt Iseabail sighed. “All right. One more, and then I go to bed.”

Rosalia refilled the cups and then nodded to Sybella. At this rate, Sybella would not be able to search for the stone. She’d be surprised if she could make it to her bed on her own accord. Perhaps Aunt Iseabail had the right idea and Sybella should flee while she had the chance.

Lifting her cup, Sybella smiled. “To new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” Rosalia and Aunt Iseabail said in unison.

Aunt Iseabail stood. “I am walking to my chamber before I am unable.”

“Do ye want me to walk ye?” asked Rosalia.

“Nay, enjoy your eve while ye wait for your men to return.”

Aunt Iseabail bent and kissed Rosalia on the head. “I love ye, my sweet lass.”

“I love ye too, Seanmhair.”

Aunt Iseabail walked over to Sybella and also kissed her on the head. “It warms my heart to see ye make my Alexander so happy, dear Sybella.”

Sybella reached out and grabbed Aunt Iseabail’s hand. “I am glad to be here, Aunt Iseabail.” To be honest, Sybella meant what she said. The MacDonells were quickly becoming family. Home.

* * *

Alex was tired, but at least he’d received the answer he sought from the MacKenzie. The man had arranged passage for him to Lewis and agreed for Alex to bring back the MacLeod’s head. A good day’s work, if he did say so himself.

As they approached Glengarry, the sun started to set below the horizon, casting Alex’s home in an orange glow. The castle looked warm, welcoming. He thought of Sybella and wondered if she would be the same. He was particularly fond of how the sunlight reflected on her golden locks, and he could not easily forget her skin of rose and pearl. Not being able to stay his thoughts, Alex shifted in the saddle. His wife was a rare beauty. And frankly, he missed her.

The men rode into the bailey, and Alex hoped that Cook had kept them something for sup, or he and his men would surely be raiding the pantry. The stable hand took their mounts, and Alex entered the great hall with MacGregor and John. They were starting to make their way toward the kitchens when the clanking sounds of metal against metal rang throughout the hall. Without hesitation, the men unsheathed their swords, running toward the sound of men in the heat of battle—under Alex’s own roof no less.

They abruptly came to a halt.

What the hell?

The commotion came from…the ladies’ solar. If Alex had not witnessed the sight before him with his own two eyes, he would never have believed it. His cousin and his bonny wife wielded their daggers while the men stood in the hall and merely gaped.

“I am the fierce Laird Ciaran MacGregor of Glenorchy. And I will be obeyed,” slurred Rosalia, her voice deep.

“Give me but a moment while I fix my hair.” Sybella held her dagger under her arm while she placed an unruly lock of hair behind her ear.

Rosalia laughed. “Aye, my cousin would say that.”

The men lowered their weapons and sheathed their swords.

With his laugh barely contained, John said, “They are your problem. I go to eat.” And with that, he waved Alex and MacGregor off, ambling to the kitchens.

MacGregor stepped in the door and folded his arms over his chest. “I donna sound like that, Wife.”

Rosalia looked up and smiled, blowing her loose tresses from her lips. She stumbled over to MacGregor and placed her hand on his arm. “Ye are back.” She turned to Alex and almost fell into him. “Cousin, ye need to take care of your-r-r-r wife.” Rosalia lowered her voice to a whisper. “She is in her cups.”

MacGregor chuckled. “Sybella isnae the only one.”

Rosalia looked offended. “I am nae drunk. Remember, Ciaran, I am used to your ale.”

MacGregor looked at Alex and rolled his eyes. “Aye, I can see that. Come. I will take ye to bed.”

She threw herself into MacGregor’s chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I would love for ye to take me to bed, Ciaran.” She stood on the tips of her toes and placed her lips to MacGregor’s.

The man tapped Rosalia playfully on the bottom and then quickly scooped her into his arms. “Time for bed, Rosalia.”

Before Rosalia had the chance to protest, MacGregor carried her down the hall, but not before Alex heard her say, “But we were having so much fun.”

Alex stepped in the door and shook his head. Sybella stood before him with a look of pure innocence on her face. Her eyes were glassy and she swayed on her feet. She approached the table and put down her weapon.

“When I had the dagger made for ye, I didnae expect ye to be practicing swordplay with my cousin.”

“Rosalia is in her cups. I was merely trying to keep her entertained.”

“Aye.” He walked over and pulled his wife into the circle of his arms.

“I missed ye, Alex. And I am so relieved to see my beloved father let ye return to me in one piece.”

He detected censure in her tone, but her speech could’ve been due to the ill effects of the ale. He rubbed his hands over her back, and she was so warm. Frankly, she felt damn good in his arms.

Sybella pulled back and brought her hand gently to his cheek. “My dearest Alexander, please tell me ye remembered to give Colin my message.”

He kissed the palm of her hand. “Of course I did.”

A look of relief passed over her face. “Why donna ye get something to eat? I want to remain here for a bit longer and then I will go to bed.”

“That, Ella, isnae a good idea. Come, I will escort ye to your chamber.” He placed his hand at the small of her back and gestured her forward. She took two steps and then turned around to face him.

“But there are things I must do—”

“And they will be here on the morrow. Off to bed with ye. Come.” When she didn’t move, Alex bent and lifted her into his arms. “I see ye are going to be difficult.”

Sybella kicked her feet. “Alex, put me down. I am perfectly capable of walking on my own accord.”

He chuckled as he walked out the door. “I donna think so, lass.”

Alex carried his wife to her chamber, kicking open the door with his foot. He’d never heard her talk so much in his life. She’d chattered nonstop up the stairs, and he wasn’t even sure of half the things she’d said. Gently placing her on her feet, he turned her around. He assisted her with her gown and helped her into bed.

“I donna want to go to bed. I am nae tired.”

He rubbed his hand over her hair, smoothing her tresses. “Ella, go to sleep.” He bent over and kissed the top of her head.

“Why do ye nae share my bed to sleep? I donna mind.”

Alex stood and ran his hand through his hair. “I donna know. I suppose I ne’er really thought about it.”

“Do ye love me?”

“Ella, go to sleep. Ye know nae what ye speak. I go below stairs to sup.” He pulled up the blankets to her chin and tucked her in. “Sleep well, Wife.”

When she closed her eyes, Alex walked out and blew out the breath he’d held. He leaned up against the closed door and rested his head back. Sybella’s question unnerved him. Did he love her? He obviously cared for her but love?

He needed a drink.

By the time Alex made his way to the kitchens, he was alone. John had already departed, and who knew what the hell MacGregor was doing. He quickly shook off that thought.

Cook had left Alex a tray on the table. He sat down and poured himself some mulled wine while Sybella’s question continued to hammer at him. Why would she ask him that? Their marriage was certainly no love match, the wedding being arranged and all. Women should not ask questions they did not want to know the answer to. Love? Lust? Who was to say? He only knew one thing for certain: it was damn hard to remain coherent when she was close to him.