It was foolish. Why would they come for her after all this time? All the same, she and Gòrdan slipped off the path. They took the shortcut to his house, where he gave her a nip of whiskey while his mother scowled at her.
“What’s that you’re saying?” Ian asked, glaring at Gòrdan from the far end of the table.
She kicked Gòrdan to remind him of his promise to say nothing.
“That I’d best be getting home,” Gòrdan said and stood up. “My mother will be waiting.”
She tilted her head back and gave Gòrdan a grateful smile for not telling. “Thanks for seeing me home safe.”
No sooner had Gòrdan gone than there was a knocking at the door.
“I’ll get it,” Alex said.
When he opened the door, in came Dina, a woman men followed around as if she had some dark secret to share with them. Sìleas heard at the church today that Dina’s husband caught her in their bed with another man—which was no surprise to anyone but him—and tossed her out.
Unease settled in Sìleas’s stomach when Dina dropped a heavy cloth bag inside the door.
“Thank ye for taking me in,” Dina said, dipping her head to Ian’s mother. “I’m a good cook, and I’ll do my best to lend a hand wherever ye need it.”
From the startled look on Beitris’s face, the invitation to join their household had not come from her.
“Ian and I told Dina ye would be happy for her help,” Alex said.
Sìleas shot a look at Ian, who was glaring at Alex, as if he was not pleased with Alex for mentioning his role in this. How could Ian do this to her, on top of everything else? It was one humiliation too many.
The awful memory flooded her vision. She must have been nine years old. Ian had told her—repeatedly—that he was “a man now” and couldn’t have her following him everywhere anymore. Of course, she had paid no heed.
Until the day she came upon him behind a shepherd’s hut with Dina’s legs wrapped around his waist.
Ach, he’d forgotten all about Dina. He should have warned his mother. Why did Alex have to go and invite her? Wasn’t there enough trouble in the house?
“I’ll take Payton’s supper to him,” Sìleas said, getting up without so much as a glance Ian’s way. “Ye must be hungry, Dina. Take my seat.”
Ian noticed Sìleas had not touched her own supper.
After they finished their meal, he and Alex went in to talk with Payton. When Ian attempted to catch Sìleas’s eye, she abruptly left the room, leaving a cold frost in her wake.
Ian wanted to go after her, but his father was waiting to hear what happened at the church. He showed some of his old spirit as they discussed what needed to be done next. Since his father had taken a long nap, he didn’t tire for a good long while.
By the time Ian and Alex returned to the hall, it was empty.
“Damn it,” Ian said. “I wanted to talk to Sìleas tonight.”
“Talk?” Alex said, elbowing him. “I thought your plan was to take that lass to bed and make a proper wife of her today.”
“She doesn’t make it easy,” Ian said, taking down the jug of whiskey and two cups from the shelf. “The looks she gives me could fry eggs.”
“Ach, Sìleas is just upset because you’ve kept her waiting.” Alex patted his chest. “Ye can be sure I wouldn’t have.”
“Oh, aye, for certain ye would be ready to jump into marriage,” Ian said, then tossed back his first drink.
“Not me, but we both know ye are the sort to marry.” Alex drank his own cup down and signaled for more. “Ye will do no better than Sìleas. That lass has fire in her.”
Before drinking down their second round, they clinked their cups together and chanted, “It’s no health if the glass is not emptied.”
“What can I do?” Ian said, wiping his mouth. “She acts as if she hates me. And she’s always running off with that Gòrdan Graumach.”
“Ye can’t let Gòrdan have her—he’s too dull for a lass with her spark.” Alex waggled his eyebrows. “I’d know what to do with that spark.”