Page 33 of Scandalous Scot
“Celebratory?”
“Ian and I were married but yesterday,” Màiri explained.
Alastair took another long swig of ale.
“Ian is here,” he muttered to himself.
“Aye,” Marian said. “As is Greyson. Do you know something more of . . .” She licked her lips nervously. How had Màiri not noticed it before? Something was amiss. Marian and Alastair looked at each other as if they shared a secret. But how was that possible when they had never met? “. . . of his family?”
Alastair took a long drink and placed a second empty mug on the table in front of him.
“Aye, lass. I’ve plenty to tell them.”
Màiri’s chest tightened as she listened to their exchange. It was not their words that sounded off, precisely, but the fact that these two, who had never met, seemed to share a common knowledge. They knew something she did not. Perhaps the very thing Marian had alluded to in her chamber.
“She doesn’t know?” Alastair asked.
That broke her reverie. They were both staring at her.
“Nay. She met Ian just a sennight ago. The wedding was a quick one.”
“Quick? I should say. What could have necessitated . . .” His words trailed away, and the look on Alastair’s face indicated he’d come to the wrong conclusion.
“I was not compromised in the way you are thinking.”
More importantly, what precisely was happening here?
“If they’re married”—he spoke to Marian again—“she must be told.”
She was quickly becoming more angry than curious. They spoke around her, about her, as if she were not sitting beside them. What could possibly be so surprising or upsetting? Was this about another woman? Màiri tried to breathe normally.
“’Tis not what you are thinking,” Marian rushed to explain, “but we cannot discuss this here. And ’tis for Ian to tell you.” She exchanged a glance with Alastair, as if seeking his help, but he frowned in disapproval.
“I know not why Ian kept it from you, my lady. But as his wife, ’tis imperative you know. Especially now.” Turning toward Marian, he said, “There’s much I need to tell you. To tell the others.”
“What must I know?” Màiri asked. She’d raised her voice a little louder than she should have, perhaps, but the worst sorts of scenarios were flitting through her mind. Where she’d been hungry before, now Màiri’s stomach roiled with the possibilities.
“Do not scream, Lady Màiri,” Alastair said.
Scream? It had hardly been a scream, but shewantedto scream. The not knowing was driving her mad.
“You cannot tell her now,” Marian insisted. “Not in front of all. Not before Ian has a chance to explain.”
Alastair ignored her, but he did acknowledge Marian’s words. “I have known Lady Màiri my whole life. Her father is a friend, an ally. Why her husband chose not to tell her, I cannot say. But she will learn of it before long.”
And although Màiri had been anxious to know what they were talking about, she felt a sudden rush of foreboding.
I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know.
Alastair leaned toward her and whispered, “Your husband is from the future.”
14
Ian thoughthe’d run the gamut of tough treatment from the press. Although they mostly stayed away from McCaim Shipping, sometimes there was a dispute with the river pilots, business dealings with a country with iffy policies, or a controversy within the McCaim family. There’d been plenty of those in the past five years.
Enough that he knew what to do when ambushed by the press.
But nothing could have prepared Ian for the eruption the moment he walked into the laird’s solar. Although Ian had not yet met his grandfather, who was visiting a neighboring clan with a contingent of men, supposedly his solar chamber was the preferred meeting place for matters of importance within the clan. Seconds after they entered the hall after returning from the hunt, Ian, Grey, and Ross had been pulled aside by Hightower’s steward. While the others remained in the hall, Ross had made their apologies and then led them upstairs.
