Page 46 of Claimed By a Ruthless Scot
Catriona nodded, folding her arms as she leaned back in the chair.
“Me braither daes nae grant favors lightly.”
“It was hardly a favor,” Elaina said. “Merely a practical decision.”
“Perhaps.”
Catriona watched her with a thoughtful little smile. “But Duncan rarely changes things without a reason.”
“Ye think it means something?” Elaina frowned faintly.
Catriona shrugged, though the smile remained.
“I think,” she said, “that ye may be affecting him more than he realizes.”
Elaina’s fingers paused briefly over the herbs.
“That seems unlikely.”
Catriona laughed softly. “Perhaps.” Then she added in a tone that was heartwarming and certain. “But I have kent me braither me entire life.”
And judging by the knowing glint in her eyes, she did not believe Elaina’s denial for a moment.
Duncan walked slowly back toward his study; his hands clasped loosely behind his back as he moved through the familiar stone halls of Castle Grant.
Voices drifted from distant rooms and the muted clatter of the kitchens was echoing faintly through the corridors. Somewhere in the courtyard below a pair of soldiers were sparring, their practice blades striking with dull, rhythmic thuds.
Ordinarily, the sounds would have grounded him. But his thoughts lingered stubbornly elsewhere. He shook his head at himself as he reached the door of his study and pushed it open.
Immediately, he knew something was wrong. Iain was standing near the window, clearly waiting for him. Duncan paused just inside the doorway, closing the door behind him with deliberate calm.
Iain was not a man easily unsettled. Years commanding soldiers had given him a steady temperament that rarely wavered. Yet the way he stood now, with his arms folded tightly and his jaw tightly wound, suggested something had disturbed that steadiness.
“Well,” Duncan told him instead of a greeting, crossing the room toward his desk, “that expression daes nae usually accompany good news.”
Iain turned. His face was serious in a way that made Duncan’s instincts sharpen instantly.
“I wish it did.”
Duncan rested his hands on the edge of the desk. “What is it?”
Iain hesitated briefly before answering. “There has been some… movement in the town.”
Duncan frowned. “What sort of movement?”
“Naething obvious,” Iain said. “Naething we can confront directly.”
“That sounds vague.”
“Itisvague.”
Duncan’s brows furrowed. “Then explain.”
Iain pushed away from the window and walked slowly toward the desk.
“Several of the men reported unusual activity near the market over the past two days,” he said. “Strangers asking questions. Passing through quickly. Lingering where they shouldnae.”
“Travelers pass through often,” Duncan replied.
