Page 42 of Highland Seduction

“We’ll stay but a fortnight in Berwick,” Tor said carefully. “If we dinnae find Ian and Marta by then, we must return home to warn the others. The king has decreed a wedding every full moon until this feud is ended. If we do no’ find our kinsmen, this peace balances on a more precarious edge than is likely feasible.”

“Ye believe, if they are no’ found, the feud may no’ end?”

Tor frowned. “If we cannae avoid fighting in the same room with the king himself?”

’Twas answer enough, to Ainsley’s thinking.

“Who would he marry next?” their host asked.

Ainsley and Tor exchanged a glance, both thinking the same. Though they’d not discussed it, and while there were many of marriageable age between their clans, if the king truly wished to strike the lowest blow to both clans, there was but one choice.

An unimaginable one, to Ainsley’s thinking. Rhona had been through too much to endure it. Marta and Ian must be found. This lawyer enjoyed a long-lasting friendship with Royce MacRob, but her sister certainly did not.

The idea of them being forced to marry? She shuddered at the thought.

“He will marry none other,” Tor said, his tone protective. “I am convinced Ian and Marta are alive and here in Berwick. We will find them and end this feud between us.”

“For the sake of both of yer clans, I hope ye do. And will aid yer cause as best as I’m able, my friend.”

Two goblets of wine later, Tor had relayed news from the north and McGreghere had done the same, telling him that unfortunately their trouble with the reivers was not surprising, that the borders had been growing more quarrelsome of late. Finally they stood.

“I thank ye for yer hospitality,” Tor said, “and yer aid.”

McGreghere reached for her husband’s hand. “I am pleased to do all I can for ye.” He addressed Ainsley. “I’ve known this man for many years, my lady. Ye’ve a fine husband in him, and I wish for ye both many happy and prosperous years together.”

Ainsley inclined her head, her tight smile a reflection of her uncertainty about such an occurrence. “I’ve known him a short time.” She caught Tor’s eye and did not look away. “And can agree. He is a fine man indeed.”

Tor sucked in a breath.

“For a MacRob.”

Both men laughed, though the words were true. Her husband was a fine man indeed. But would he be her husband for long?

’Twas time to find out.

Chapter 24

After the longest walk of his life, Tor bid Ainsley return to their room, where he’d join her soon. Paying nearly as much coin as he had for the room itself for the night, he’d arranged for a meal to be brought to them along with goblets for the wine McGreghere insisted they take with them.

“Will ye inquire,” he asked the innkeeper, who’d proved quite resourceful, “about another man as well?”

“Aye,” he said, pausing long enough to welcome two men who’d entered the inn. “Who?”

“His name is Father Godfrey, Clan Shaw’s priest.”

The innkeeper’s brows drew together. “I’ve heard the name before but do no’ know him.”

“He is a frequent visitor to Berwick. Under jurisdiction of Bishop Timlin. If ye would be discreet in yer inquiries . . .” Tor slipped the man an additional coin.

“What sort of inquiries shall I make of the man?”

That was precisely the problem. Tor was uncertain. “His purpose for being in Berwick. Aught that might raise a brow,” he said, knowing there was little to recommend the request.

“Of course, my lord. I trust yer stay has been adequate?”

Their bedchamber was one of only five with a bed large enough for him and Ainsley to share. It was clean, and the food at River’s End nearly as good as the MacRob cook’s. “It has,” he said, offering the man an additional coin for his efforts.

By the time he left the innkeeper, Tor had taken the stairs that led to their room two at a time. Unfortunately, when he tossed open the door, the serving maid was still inside.