Page 57 of A Tartan Love (The Earls of Cairnfell #1)

I sla had promised Tavish that she would send word by morning.

However, he had experienced nearly a full twenty-four hours of incessant worry because his lovely wife had not, in point of fact, sent word.

Not a damn syllable.

Even one night away from Isla had proved difficult. Tavish refused to spend another.

The soldier in him clinically plotted his options.

One, he could rally Callum and a few grooms and storm the gates of Dunmore, as Isla had suggested.

Two, he could lie in wait until Grayburn left Dunmore and then harass the man by shooting objects around him until he gave up Isla’s location.

Both options had merit.

Tavish was cleaning his rifle in preparation when a knock sounded.

At last! A message from Isla!

He took the stairs two at a time and wrenched open the door .

Fletch’s handsome face greeted him.

Tavish froze.

Edward Archer was the last person he expected to see.

“Fletch!”

“May I come in?”

They spoke over the top of one another.

“Of course.” Tavish waved Fletch inside and up the stairs.

As ever, his friend appeared a gentleman of wealth—tailored greatcoat over a superfine tailcoat and gold-threaded waistcoat, buckskin breeches tucked into polished Hessians.

“I must say, I am surprised to see ye,” Tavish said as they stepped into the great hall. “I wrote ye earlier this week to apprise ye of my situation with Isla but didn’t expect a personal visit.”

“Yes, well . . . I had stopped by Castle Balfour and was directed here.”

“I see,” Tavish said, when in fact, he did not see . “And ye took the time to stop by because . . . ?” He left the question dangling off ellipses.

Fletch walked the perimeter of the room, top hat twirling in his hands, poking his nose into every corner with typical Fletch-like enthusiasm. His gaze lingered on the rifle resting on a side table, mid-cleaning.

“Have I arrived at an inopportune moment?” Fletch lifted an eyebrow, his normally open expression guarded. “Your letters led me to believe my presence would be welcome.”

“Nae. Ye ken I am right glad to see ye. I am merely puzzled, is all.” And eager to be off to collect my wife , Tavish didn’t add.

Fletch studied him before sighing. “Do you have any libations in this castle of yours?”

“Alcohol? For breakfast?”

“I have never known you to forgo a wee dram, as you describe it, regardless of the time of day.”

Tavish shrugged, as if to say, Ye have me there . “We can drink while I finish cleaning my rifle.”

He poured a finger of whisky into a pair of crockery mugs.

“So?” Tavish asked once they were seated across from one another before the fire. Lifting his rifle, he continued to scour rust spots off the barrel. He knew his friend—former friend?—hadn’t come all this way as a courtesy call. “Ye seem to be less angry with myself? ”

Fletch shrugged, sipping his whisky and watching Tavish’s hands as he worked. “You are a difficult man to remain angry with, Balfour, and well you know it. I was on my way south to London and thought I’d stop in.”

Tavish said nothing, waiting for Fletch to get to the point.

“Lady Isla is well?” Fletch asked.

Wasn’t that the question of the hour? “I presume so. She is with Grayburn at present. I am preparing to go fetch her.” Wrapping a bit of muslin around the tip of the rifle ramrod, Tavish began to clean the interior rifling of the barrel.

Fletch shot a pointed look at the rifle. “Were you?”

“Aye.”

“And how are matters between you and the lady?” Fletch laid the question down carefully, as if it were a cocked pistol with a dodgy trigger—liable to fire at the slightest jolt.

The question caused Tavish to frown. “I wrote ye about it, as I said. Earlier this week.”

“Ah. I must have left Kingswell before receiving your letter.”

Then why are ye here? Tavish wondered.

“Isla and I have . . . mended fences,” he said.

Fletch tilted his head. “Truly?”

“Aye.” Tavish couldn’t stop a love-drunk smile. “Isla is . . . remarkable. I’m humbled that she has chosen to remain my wife.”

“You love her.” A statement, not a question.

Tavish nodded. “More than life. And she, even more surprisingly, claims to love me in return.”

“What do you plan to do?”

Tavish winced at that. “That part of the plan, we are still trying to piece together.”

They spoke for a few minutes. Or rather, Fletch listened, and Tavish talked as he poured gun oil onto a clean bit of muslin and rubbed it into every metal surface of the rifle.

He recounted his relationship with Isla as a lad and his joy at their renewed devotion. He described his tentative hopes that Lord Matthias might join the venture to Pennsylvania and the thought that, one day, Tavish might pursue politics in Great Britain or maybe even Pennsylvania .

“I don’t suppose it matters what I do,” Tavish finished, setting down his rifle and moving to the washbasin to clean his hands. “With Isla beside me, everything feels possible.”

“Congratulations. I am truly happy for you both.” Fletch’s cheerful blue eyes brimmed with honesty.

Tavish dried his hands on a hanging towel.

Silence for another moment.

“Ye must know, Fletch, how sorry I am that matters played out as they did. I never meant to deceive ye in such a way.”

Fletch waved a magnanimous hand. “Though I have been stung by the loss of Lady Isla—she is, as you say, a remarkable lady—over the past week, I have begun to see matters more clearly. For one, I do not wish to marry a lady who still feels affection for another gentleman. Like yourself, I want to be first in my wife’s heart.

And second, I understand that you couldn’t have behaved in any other manner.

Your loyalty should remain with your wife, not myself. ”

Unaccountably, emotion rose in Tavish’s chest. “Thank you. Though I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I will grasp it with both hands. Ye will always be a brother in arms.”

Crossing back to Fletch, Tavish extended his hand. His friend didn’t hesitate to grab it. Tavish pulled the man to his feet, clapping him on the back.

“I must say, Balfour, this visit has been illuminating in the extreme.” Fletch dropped his hand. “I didn’t realize how little I know you.”

“Pardon?” Tavish frowned. “Ye know me better than just about anyone.”

Fletch paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “Perhaps . . . it’s only that . . . I’ve never seen you so animated. You’ve spoken more over the past hour than I remember you speaking in an entire year. On the topic of Lady Isla, you wax voluble.”

Heat tinged Tavish’s cheeks. “Aye, well, I did say from the beginning that she is a bonnie lass.”

“Yes, I’m sure that is part of it.” His friend gave him an assessing look. “But I also wonder if I only ever knew a shadow of you—an echo of the real man. The heart of you, however . . . I believe you left that in Lady Isla’s care. ”

“Possibly. Or perhaps, it’s just that happiness sits well with me.” Tavish turned and began collecting shot and black powder.

“Perhaps.” Fletch’s tone implied doubt. “Regardless, this conversation is actually not why I am here. I came to warn you.”

Tavish lifted an eyebrow, one hand on a leather bag.

“Grayburn found a way to vanish your marriage.”

Fletch’s words spun in Tavish’s mind like a whirlwind. He struggled to make sense of them.

“Pardon?”

“Just that. A few days ago, I received a letter from Grayburn, saying he had destroyed all evidence of your marriage to Lady Isla. Matters are as if the marriage never occurred. It was his understanding that your marriage had not been consummated—obviously, no longer the case—and if I wished to continue my courtship of Lady Isla, assuming she was amenable, Grayburn would support my suit. As I said, I no longer wish to court Lady Isla, but I wanted to make sure you knew what had occurred.”

“That bloody bastard! So that was the purpose behind his summons.”

“I presume you are referring to Grayburn?”

“Aye. Isla left yesterday afternoon. Grayburn demanded her presence, and she went willingly, thinking she would say goodbye to Lord Matthias, fetch her things, and return to me. She was supposed to send me word, but I have received nothing.” Tavish waved a hand toward the bag.

“Hence, my preparations. I fear Grayburn is up to no good.”

Fletch’s chin went up. “A soldier’s instinct?”

“I can’t say. When it comes to my wife, my reasoning is clouded. But something has occurred, or a message from Isla would have arrived by now.”

“I think your worry is justified. I sensed something off with Grayburn’s message.”

Tavish’s concern ratcheted higher. “I need to go.”

Grabbing his rifle and leather bag, he turned for the pegs to the right of the stairs, the ones that held his greatcoat and top hat.

“Absolutely! We should be on our way!”

Tavish looked back to his friend. “Pardon?”

“I’m coming with you.” Fletch tapped his hat on his head.

His friend’s ready declaration of support tightened Tavish’s throat .

“Are ye quite sure? I should hate for ye to make an enemy of Grayburn for my sake.”

“Nonsense. Your enemy is my enemy. That is how friendship works, Balfour. Besides, you are more likely to get answers from Grayburn with me at your side. His Grace will hesitate to lash out at me, not wanting to anger my father.”

“True.”

“I would never let a fellow officer race into danger without guarding his back. Once a Rifle, always a Rifle. We go in pairs.”

Tavish and Fletch did take the precaution of stopping by Castle Balfour and telling Mariah their plans.

“Just so ye know where I have disappeared to,” he said.

“That is hardly comforting.” His sister kissed his cheek, nodding hello to Fletch. “I hope ye return with your lady love. Father will be away to Aberdeen next week, so the two of ye can come stay at the castle here, if ye’d like. I look forward to getting to know your Isla better.”

Tavish thanked her and then rode toward Dunmore, Fletch at his side. They arrived just after luncheon.