Page 11 of Her Magnificent Mistake (Surprised Heirs #1)

CHAPTER 10

M arcia’s fingers ached from how hard Hawk gripped her hand, but she didn’t mind. She also didn’t mind that he was distracted—frantic almost—as they searched Tostinham for Allison. It just proved that she’d been right about him.

He is not a murderer.

He’d been horrified when he’d realized that over time it was he who stood to gain from his family’s rapid deaths—and that suspicion might have fallen on him.

She hadn’t been brave enough to tell him it already had, and from one of the highest places in the land. To tell him that was why she was here at Tostinham. To tell him she’d only sought him out, only become closer with him again after so long…because he was under suspicion of being a murderer.

It was cowardice on her part, but she couldn’t hurt him that way. Not after what they’d shared yesterday.

Not after learning he still loved her.

“Where is she?” Hawk muttered. “No’ her room, no’ the parlor, no’ any place where a proper young lady should be…”

“Hawk, stop.” Marcia tugged his hand until he halted his headlong rush and turned to her, panic in his eyes. She tried for a calming smile and took his other hand in hers. “Allison is strong and capable, but decidedly not a proper young lady.” She squeezed his fingers to take the sting out of the observation. “So where would a not proper young lady be? A greenhouse? The library?”

“Artrip checked there,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder. “The ballroom? Why would she be there?”

But he didn’t give her time to respond before he was moving again, tugging Marcia toward the ballroom.

When the door opened, the frozen tableau that met their eyes was beyond what either had possibly expected.

The window coverings had been pulled back, flooding the space with sunlight, and a heavy rug had been placed in the center of one of those sunbeams. The housekeeper sat placidly in a chair along the wall, fixing a darn in a pillow.

Matching pillows were strewn around the rug.

And standing in the middle of the rug was Allison, facing the door, her eyes wide with shock…Rupert’s forearm wrapped around her throat from behind.

“Let her go!” howled Hawk, throwing himself into the room. He wouldn’t be able to reach the couple in time, but Marcia knew he wouldn’t have to.

Information, however, that was far too complex to share in a breath.

“No! Hawk!” she called, rushing after him.

“Ye bastard!”

Likely he would have taken Rupert down and choked the life out of him, had Allison not shaken off her surprise and followed through on the fluid movement Marcia had been expecting.

With her uncle hurtling toward her yet ignoring him completely, Allison bent her knees, slid her leg back to hook Rupert’s, ducked her shoulder while gripping his forearm…and pulled him forward to flip over her shoulder with a lady-like grunt.

Rupert’s back slammed into the pillows—and the rug—the same moment Hawk reached them. Denied someone to violently attack, Hawk tripped over Rupert’s legs and sprawled on top of the younger man, as Allison stepped back, wiping her palms.

As the two men cursed at one another and tried to untangle themselves, Allison grinned happily at Marcia. “Suffra-jiujitsu. Suffrajitsu? Either way, I like it!”

“I kenned ye would,” groaned Rupert from the floor.

“I taught him that.” Grinning proudly, Marcia moved to stand beside the younger woman. “Our father used to be living a rather dangerous—well, I suppose it does not matter. But he had enemies, and was quite overprotective.”

“You know, most overprotective fathers merely restrict their daughters’ movements,” Allison pointed out blandly, hands on hips as she watched the men get to their knees. “Not teach them hand-to-hand unarmed combat.”

“It is only unarmed because that would be unfair on anyone who attacked me,” Marcia said blithely. “And, well, my father knew that I would not stand for such restrictions. Then I became best friends with Bull, and Da refused to let us adventure—even to the bakery!—unless he knew I could defend myself.”

“From your brother?” Allison looked aghast.

Chuckling, Marcia offered a groaning Hawk her hand. “At first, Da did not trust Bull. But by the time he married Flick—that is Bull’s mother—they had grown close. Are you going to make it?” she asked Hawk.

“What the fook was that?” he growled, dusting off his thighs and knees. “I thought ye were in real trouble!” he barked at his niece.

The young woman shrugged unrepentantly and helped Rupert to his feet, dusting him off. Marcia’s brow rose in amusement when she noticed Allison lingering over the dust on Rupert’s backside.

“Rupert and I were reading about the women campaigning for suffrage.”

“And she wanted to learn how they defend themselves, without weapons,” Rupert groaned, stretching. “Da taught us the basics of jiu-jitsu, which is from feudal Japan, and focuses on throws and grappling locks and uses yer opponent’s strength against him.”

Allison linked her arm through his with a shy grin. “When I mentioned how I would love to learn to protect myself the way they did, Rupert volunteered to show me some moves. It appears I am a fast learner.”

“Dinnae fash,” Rupert told Hawk. “I put down the rug and pillows for her protection, although I’ve been the one grateful for them more often than no’.”

“Ye mean ye threw her ?” Hawk roared, shaking off Marcia’s hand.

Chuckling, Allison stopped her uncle with a palm on his arm. “I am well, Uncle Maxwell. Truly. Rupert was most… ahem . Gentle with me. And I have learned ever so much.”

“Ye cannae say ‘ahem,’ Allie, without sounding suspicious as hell! And ye should be sitting demurely, sewing or something.”

Both women clucked their tongues at that, Marcia adding a cursory glare just for good measure, and Hawk blew out a breath with a rueful twitch of his lips. “Aright, point taken.”

“Besides, my stitches are terrible.” Smirking, Allison patted her uncle once more. “That is why we had to bring McGillicuddy.”

“What?” barked Hawk. Marcia tried not to giggle at the bewildered look on the poor man’s face.

“Me, milord,” piped the housekeeper in the chair, without looking up from her sewing. “Yer housekeeper, remember? I’ve been here a few years?—”

“I know who ye are, McGillicuddy,” Hawk growled.

“Och, aye,” the wee woman continued on blithely. “Miss Allison and Lord Rupert have broken more seams on these puir pillows than my grandda after a big meal, bless his heart. It’s all I can do to keep up with them!”

Hawk glanced back at Rupert. “I thought yer maid was Smythe-Smith-Snitt-Whatever. Ye didnae ask her to clean up after ye?”

Her brother sent a panicked glance toward Marcia and her chest tightened.

This was their chance.

This was the moment for her to confess that her “maid” was actually their cousin…but if she did that, she’d have to explain that Gabby was helping them look for evidence against Hawk. Against a murderer.

Until yesterday, until Marcia explained her theory about Bull being mistakenly hurt in an attack meant for Hawk, Gabby and Bull and Rupert had thought Hawk was guilty of murder. And so had she, a small part of her, terrified that she could be right.

He'd been devastated by the hint of such a thing. Learning Marcia had manipulated him into getting closer to investigate him…how would he take that?

“Rupert?” prompted Hawk.

She had to tell him.

If only to save her brother this embarrassment.

But as she was taking a deep breath, Rupert turned to Hawk. “She’s sitting with Bull. She has some…medical experience.”

Marcia’s breath whooshed out of her, and the moment—the opportunity—was past.

“Oh, that makes sense.” Hawk’s expression cleared. “Is he getting well?”

“Aye,” Rupert glanced at Marcia again, then Allison. “Allie and I stopped by to speak with him earlier. He says the light hurts his head, but that’s normal. He did…” Rupert straightened his shoulders. “He did ask me to ask ye to come and visit him, when ye have the time.”

Hawk paled.

Instinctively, Marcia reached for him, twining her fingers through his, offering him what support she could. She didn’t allow herself to see what response that gained from his niece…or her brother.

“He…Bull wants to see me?” Hawk croaked.

Rupert looked surprised. “Aye, of course. Ye’re still his best friend, are ye not?”

“I…am.” Hawk’s expression was tortured with guilt, even as his fingers tightened around Marcia’s. “I was afraid he didnae want to see me.”

“He came to Tostinham to see you, Uncle.” Allison jerked her head toward the corridor. “Why not go and visit him now?”

“Now?” bleated Hawk. “Nay! I mean, I cannae leave ye.”

Rupert glanced about in confusion. “We have McGillicuddy as a chaperone,” he pointed out. “And Allie is beating the shite out of me moreso than the opposite.”

Marcia winced, making a mental note to remind Rupert not to discuss beating shite around the guardian of the woman he was wooing. Allison, however, merely smirked and nudged Rupert with her shoulder, reminding Marcia so much of herself at a younger age that it made her ache.

Please God, give her a happier ending than I received.

After all, where had her love story taken her? Loved, rejected, in mourning, only to manipulate the man she still loved in order to condemn him…and overall, being too much of a coward to confess the truth.

But Hawk was still focused on Rupert’s words. “Nay, I mean…Allie shouldnae be alone.”

“She’s not alone,” Rupert pointed out, still confused. “I’m with her, and McGillicuddy.”

“Still here, milord!” called the housekeeper cheerfully from the chair. “Darning like hell, milord, but ready to stop any hanky or, if it comes to it, panky! It’ll be a cold day in hell when the hanky-panky gets past McGillicuddy, I always says.”

“Oh, do ye?” offered Hawk weakly. But he cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. “I’m afraid, however, that I really do have to insist ye stay with me, Allie. Always.”

“Always?” the girl repeated.

“Always,” her uncle clarified, firmly.

“What? Even when I’m bathing and sleeping?”

Hawk frowned and Marcia tried, once again, not to smirk at his obvious discomfort. “I’m afraid there will be nae bathing and sleeping until I learn who is trying to—” At the last moment, his lips snapped shut, and Marcia—who’d been concerned he was going to worry his niece—breathed a sigh of relief. “Ye must be kept safe.”

“I am safe,” Allison huffed in exasperation. “Rupert would not harm me.”

“She’s right, I would never,” he agreed enthusiastically.

“And I cannae,” chimed in McGillicuddy, merrily stabbing a needle through a cushion. “Too short to try.”

All of them turned to the chair, where the small woman swung her feet as she happily mended. Looking up and catching their gazes, she grinned. “Cannae even touch the floor, see?”

Rupert cleared his throat. “I did not think the baron was insinuating ye were a threat to Miss Allison’s virtue.”

“Och, I’m an alluring creature,” McGillicuddy announced, “but I wouldnae take advantage of her. Not on a Tuesday.”

“And neither would I,” declared Rupert staunchly, turning back to Hawk. “On any day. Allie is safe with me.”

Marcia hid her smile as Hawk scrubbed a hand down his face.

“I’m no’ worried about her virtue —och, I am. I’m just more worried about her neck. Her life .”

“That is why I’m learning suffrajitsu!” Allison struck a pose Marcia supposed she thought made her look tough. It made her look adorable.

“Aye, that’s what I’m afraid of,” Hawk muttered. Then, louder, he beckoned them toward the door. “We’ll all go visit Bull. Together. Dinnae leave each other’s sight, for even a moment.”

He waited until a confused Allison and Rupert began to move toward the door, then sidled along beside them, glancing in all the corners, his brow furrowed and his expression dark.

“And what about me, milord?” called out McGillicuddy.

“Mend yer pillows!” snapped Hawk as they reached the door.

Hawk decided he needed to go first, to make sure the corridor was clear, so he darted ahead, but this only resulted in him and Allison trying to squeeze through the frame at the same time.

Rupert leaped forward to assist but only managed to get himself similarly wedged, and Marcia had to physically cover her mouth to hold in her laughter.

One gentle pushing match later, and Hawk stumbled into the corridor before dropping into a ridiculous crouch, as if holding himself ready for an attack. Allie almost tripped over him. Rupert did.

Marcia couldn’t stop the giggle from slipping out.

She slid up next to Hawk and wrapped her arm around his waist. When he glanced down, she squeezed him and offered a small smile. “Everything will be fine, Hawk.”

“I cannae lose her,” he whispered.

“You will not,” Marcia vowed. “I swear it.”

H awk paused at the door to the blue guest suite, fist raised to knock. There were raised voices behind it—well, one voice. A woman, who was haranguing someone else to drink water. A quiet murmur followed…and then Marcia reached around him to pound on the door.

“Open up!”

With his heart hammering in his chest, he waited for Bull’s quiet, “Come in.” When it came, it was quieter than he had expected. Hawk pushed open the door, intending to check the room for threats before he allowed his niece inside, but once the door swung open, he was struck still.

Because there was his best friend, sitting in the chair in the shadows, the bandage stark white against his normally coiffed auburn hair with the maid frowning down at him. Bull might have been an invalid, but he was fully dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, neatly shaved, and looking so at home that Hawk suddenly became keenly aware of his scuffed boots, rolled-up sleeves, and throbbing thumb.

Perhaps he should have wiped the sawdust from his arse at least…

“Hello, Hawk,” Bull murmured, as if he hadn’t rushed off to protect his sister and received a bashed-in head.

He tried to rasp, “Hello,” but guilt had apparently lodged in his throat.

Perhaps Hawk would have managed to get his voice to work, had Allie not poked him between the shoulder blades, nudging him sharply into the room. “Is it safe , Uncle Maxwell? Are the boogiemen waiting to snatch me up?”

“Come in, come in.” Bull beckoned them, only the slightest tightening around his lips betraying the pain the motion caused. “We are safe in here. Miss Allison, you are looking…”

“Delightful,” muttered Smithy-Smith-Smythe, nudging Bull when he trailed off. “You are supposed to compliment her.”

Without dropping his charming grin, Bull said to the maid, “Why would I? She looks as if she’s gone ten rounds with my sister—and done well.”

“Hello, Bull,” Allie announced, slipping past Hawk and pulling Rupert with her. “Rupert was teaching me how to pin a man down.”

Marcia grinned as Hawk, beside her, choked.

“Och, aye.” His guest’s smile turned more natural, Bull settled back into the upholstered chair. “Marcia used to practice that on me.” He winced theatrically and rubbed at his knee. “I still ache at times. A man’s spine is never the same.”

“Huzzah,” muttered Rupert. “I have that to look forward to.”

Marcia nudged him. “Anything for love, eh?” and her younger brother turned bright red.

Dimly, as though it were occurring a long way away, Hawk realized he should join in the banter and teasing. But he was still staring at his friend, his insides still a jumble of worry and guilt.

Marcia had said she’d never told her brother about their past, and even ten years ago, when Hawk had confessed he was ready to marry, he hadn’t told Bull who he had chosen. But…but when Bull tried to set Marcia up with him, Hawk had run away from commitment.

At least, that’s what Bull would think.

Hawk had abandoned the woman he’d loved because he thought she was ready to marry another, but she and her brother would have been surprised. Hurt. Heartbroken.

Christ. Ye really are an arse.

Bull must not trust him anymore. That was surely why Bull had rushed off yesterday when he’d learned they were together. He’d been trying to protect his sister from being hurt again.

Right?

As Marcia teased Rupert and Allie, Hawk realized Bull was still studying him, expression neutral. Did he know how Marcia had spent yesterday afternoon? Did he know why Hawk had run away all those years ago? Did he know why someone had tried to kill him?

Right now, feels as though everyone kens more than ye .

Now wasn’t that the truth?

“Thanks for coming,” Bull finally said, speaking directly to Hawk. “I’d like to talk to ye, if ye’re willing.”

Hawk’s brows dipped in. “Aye, of course.” The answer was immediate, the remnant of years of trusting this man above any other.

Quite inexplicably Bull’s gaze flicked to the maid, who huffed a sigh. “ Fine . Remember what we discussed.”

Why was Smythe-Smith-Smitten speaking so informally? From the glare she was sending Bull, there was something more there than servant and employer. Was…was Bull dallying with his sister’s maid?

Bull’s smile turned charming as he shifted to include Allie and the others. “I hope ye will forgive me for being a terrible host, especially after I invited ye in. But I need to speak with Hawk alone, and I’m hoping ye’ll humor an auld wounded man.”

“Of course,” Marcia agreed, looping her arm through Allie’s. “I will make the sacrifice of accompanying you two to the library, where I will chaperone and you can tell me all about South American lizards or ancient Babylonian funeral rites or steam engines.”

“Nay!” Hawk blurted, reaching for his niece. Dinnae give into the panic, use it. “Nay, I have to keep ye safe.”

Allie smiled up at him. “I am certain I will be safe with Lady Marcia, Uncle Maxwell. Besides, Babylonian funerary rites are gruesome, no villain will dare approach such a conversational topic.” She pretended to shiver.

When Hawk sent a tortured glance Marcia’s way, she smiled knowingly and stepped up to him. She placed her hand on his cheek and tipped his head lower. When she inhaled, he found himself joining her, his breathing slowing.

“I will keep her safe, Hawk,” she murmured. “I swear it.”

Oh God, he’d only just learned of this threat; how could he leave Allie unprotected? How could he risk Marcia to keep his niece safe?

“Hawk, she will not be alone. Not ever . We will all keep her safe.”

Behind Marcia, Rupert nodded staunchly as he stepped up beside Allie, his cheeks still red. “Aye, of course.”

Marcia smiled, and pulled Hawk down to her as she whispered, “Talk to my brother. We will protect Allie together.”

And then, in front of her brothers and Allison and the maid with the impossible name and all of the saints, Marcia kissed him.

It wasn’t a long kiss, it wasn’t a deep kiss.

It wasn’t the kisses they’d shared yesterday in the cottage, nor the one they’d shared in the gazebo, when he’d nearly lost control.

But it was enough.

Hawk had quit breathing long before she’d straightened, smiling. As it turned out, breathing was no longer necessary.

Bemusedly, he watched her usher the younger couple into the hall, heard Rupert announce, “Actually, the life cycle of the gecko, or Gekkonidae , is quite fascinating,” and saw the little maid slip around him.

Smith-McSmith-Smith frowned up at him. “Make him drink his water. He is weak,” she commanded, quite unfairly, before she shut the door behind her.

Leaving him alone with his best friend.

Hawk took a deep breath, wishing he weren’t dreading this.

When he turned back to Bull, the other man was slumped in his chair, looking—as the maid had said—weaker than ever. Hawk winced, wondering what to do if his friend passed out on him or something.

Wasn’t he supposed to slap the other person smartly between the shoulder blades? No, no, that was if they were choking.

“Come sit down,” Bull commanded, and Hawk forced himself to move toward the opposite seat.

Still, he couldn’t relax back against the leather. He leaned forward, planted his elbows on his knees, and laced his fingers together. Surely he needed to address that kiss. The kiss that Bull’s little sister had just given him? Surely that was why Bull was eyeing him now with that hard look in his gray eyes?

It wasn’t as though the man could have missed it.

Hawk swallowed, preparing to say what needed to be said. Hadn’t he practiced this speech over and over, the last ten years? He had it down to a fine art…but what came out was, “I’m sorry.” He gestured to the large bandage around Bull’s head. “This was meant for me, and ye just had the bad luck to be wearing a hat that looked like mine.”

Bull was still studying him with that steely gray gaze under the heavy bandage. He’d never looked at Hawk like that before: distrust and uncertainty. Hawk allowed his gaze to focus on his friend’s chin, because it was easier than meeting that accusing stare.

Bull clearly didn’t approve of the kiss.

Perhaps ye shouldnae tell him about the cottage, or the way Marcia screamed yer name, or what ye did again an’ again an’ again ten years ago .

Finally Bull spoke, his voice hard. Cold. Unimpressed. “Marcia told me the same; that the attack was meant for ye. I admit, the evidence is compelling. If true, it changes the focus of my investigation completely. She pointed out that if someone is trying to kill ye, then that means it’s likely they killed the previous barons, and ye’re innocent.”

Hawk’s gaze jerked up, along with his chin. “Investigation? Innocent?” He frowned, thinking of what Marcia had told him in the woodshed earlier. “As in, innocent of killing my family members ?”

“Innocent of committing murder to achieve ownership of the land and title ye clearly hold dear,” Bull corrected blandly.

Hawk gaped. Perhaps he’d been the one hit on the head. “Ye cannae honestly think I would do such a thing?” When his old friend’s expression didn’t change, he slowly straightened. “Bull? I thought ye kenned me better than that.”

The other man held his gaze for a moment longer, then sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Aye, I thought so too. When the case was handed to me, I couldnae believe ye would do such a thing. But look at the results, Hawk. Each baron dead, one after the other, so Tostinham could land in yer lap.”

Yer best friend thought ye capable of murder ? “How could ye…? I would never …” Hawk suspected he was sputtering, but then Bull’s meaning sunk in and his fingers tightened around his knees. “Case ? Evidence? Ye’ve been investigating me?”

Bull’s hands curled around the arms of his chair, as if he was holding himself back. His gaze was direct, his tone fierce, when he speared Hawk with a sharp tone. “Did ye kill any of the previous barons, Hawk? Yer grandfather, yer cousins, yer uncle?”

Acid boiling in his stomach, Hawk shook his head in disbelief. “I loved my grandfather. Aye, cousin Roger was a bit of an arse, but I wasnae going to?—”

“Just answer me!”

Bull’s interruption startled Hawk. He met his friend’s gaze and saw the seriousness of this line of questioning. “I did no’ ,” Hawk said quietly, intently. It was the truth; Bull had to believe him. “I didnae kill my grandfather, nor Franklin, nor Roger, nor Uncle William.” For good measure, he added, “Nor William’s son, nor my brother Stephen, both of whom should’ve been heir before me…had they lived.”

Bull was quiet for a long moment, his eyes narrowed and sharp, as if considering the words. Finally, he spoke without moving the rest of his body. “Swear it, Hawk. Swear it on our friendship, and on that kiss ye just gave my sister, and the years of history we share. Swear it.”

Hawk swallowed—but swearing on such things was easy. “I swear it, Bull. I didnae kill anyone.”

Suddenly, his friend relaxed. The slumping of his shoulders, the way he fell back against his chair, all highlighted how tense he must’ve been. Hawk startled, wondering if Bull was about to pass out and what he needed to do about it…

But then, in one motion, Bull yanked the bandage from his head and reached behind his back. He dropped the white material to the ground as he pulled a pistol from his kidney region and placed it on his thigh.

Hawk reared back, suddenly uncertain.

Axes, aye. But pistols?

But Bull grinned crookedly and crossed one immaculately tailored trouser leg over the other, looking far more like himself—charming, at ease, not at all weak —than he had a moment ago. Gone was the weak invalid, and in its place was the Bull he knew and loved.

“Sorry about all this. Pretending to be a weak invalid and all that.” Without glancing down, Bull moved the gun from his lap to the table beside him, his movements sure and confident. “Gabby insisted it would work to make ye feel stronger.” He tipped his head toward the door. “That’s what all the Oh, he’s so weak nonsense was about.”

Shocked, Hawk eyed his friend. The lump on his head was still bruised, but not nearly bad enough to need that level of bandaging. Who was Gabby? Och, aye, the wee maid who’d been arguing with him. Had she bandaged Bull to manipulate Hawk?

I hate being manipulated.

Slumping back against his chair to match Bull, trying not to feel entirely betrayed, Hawk muttered, “I cannae believe I was one of yer cases.”

“Ye were. Now yer’re no’,” Bull said succinctly. “Now ye’re an asset and ally.”

“Ye believe me? So easily?”

Bull held his gaze. “Aye, I do. Even with the damning evidence against ye, I had a hard time believing my best friend could do such a thing. But now that we ken someone’s trying to kill ye—which by the way is the best news I’ve had in ages—ye went firmly from suspect to victim , and I’d like to figure out who is doing this before they murder ye. If possible.”

“Aye, me too,” Hawk snorted. “But Allie is my heir, and she wouldnae do this either. We’ve had a rough relationship, and I shouldnae have abandoned her for so long at school, but…we’re working through that.”

The last week, as he’d worked with Marcia to get Tostinham’s finances in order, and had the opportunity to really know Allie, he felt as if they were healing.

“If she’s no’ the murderer, then she could be the next victim.”

Hawk’s stomach clenched at that. “I ken,” he admitted hoarsely. “And I’ll die before I allow her to be hurt.”

Bull’s crooked grin flashed again. “Let us catch the bastard before that becomes necessary. Judging from that kiss my sister just gave ye, Marcia would never forgive me if I let ye do something daft and die.”

Oh, fook. Hawk felt his cheeks heat, and he found himself unable to meet his best friend’s gaze. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Why? I’m glad ye finally got yer head out of yer arse and realized how special she is. When ye told me ye were ready to marry, I thought…” He shook his head and started again. “Well, I always thought it strange ye didnae court her all those years ago.”

Hawk’s shoulders tensed and his gaze slammed back up to Bull’s. “ What? ” he managed hoarsely.

“When I brought ye home for Hogmanay that first year, anyone could see that Marcia was interested in ye. And I thought—when I teased ye about marriage—that ye might be interested in her.” There was a knowing sparkle in Bull’s gray gaze, his brow twitching as if in question.

But…he wasn’t accusing Hawk angrily of abandoning his sister. He wasn’t calling out Hawk for betraying Marcia.

Hawk took a deep breath, buying time to form his words. “She told me ye suggested me as a suitor.”

“Aye,” Bull agreed promptly. “I would’ve been glad for the two of ye to wed. But ye never mentioned marriage again, and I assumed my teasing changed yer mind. I am sorry for that.”

He didn’t know.

He didn’t realize Hawk had been thinking of Marcia when he’d broached the topic. He didn’t know why Marcia had been so enthusiastic about agreeing to a match. And he didn’t know why she’d been so hurt when Hawk had abandoned her.

Ye have to tell him .

But…did he?

Finding out Bull would have given a blessing was a gut-punch, knowledge that Hawk had wasted a decade. But now…now that Hawk understood Bull’s attempt to “save” Marcia had been due to thinking Hawk a murderer, rather than someone dallying with his sister…

Wait, ye lost me.

If Bull gave his blessing back then, would he do it again?

Before Hawk could ask, Bull shrugged. “I argued against her coming to Tostinham, but I wonder now if her intention was to make ye see what ye’d missed all those years ago.”

Missed? Aye, he’d fooking missed it, but not in the way Bull meant.

All Hawk could manage was, “Ye dinnae mind? That I’m…kissing yer little sister?”

The knowing look Bull sent him—chin dipped, brow raised—told Hawk his friend heard the pause before kissing and knew precisely what it meant. Fook. “Hawk, my little sister is the most capable person I ken. She’s strong and smart and beautiful, and if she wants to kiss ye, I’m happy for ye. I’m happy for ye both.”

“I…” He would have been delighted to call you a brother. Hawk felt his throat tightening, clogged with emotion. Marcia had been right. “Thank ye,” he managed to rasp. “She’s…”

“Do ye love her?” Bull asked quietly.

Hawk’s eyes closed. “I do.” His whisper was harsh. “God forgive me, but I do. I didnae want to upset ye… But I’ve always loved Marcia.”

There was a quiet pause, then the rustle of movement from the other chair. “Then I am happy for ye, and give ye whatever blessing ye might need—though I expect her father might want a word. Move at yer own pace, and I’ll no’ threaten or cajole.”

Confused, Hawk opened his eyes to meet Bull’s. “I dinnae understand.”

“Yer relationship—past, present and future—is between ye and Marcia. Ye owe me nothing. But I’m glad ye have a possibility of a future together. And I’m glad ye told me.”

Hawk’s breath whooshed out of him, and he felt a rueful smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m glad I told ye, too,” he admitted. Finally.

And slowly, it dawned on him what this meant.

Bull had given his blessing. Bull hadn’t asked what had passed between them all those years ago, and Hawk didn’t have to admit how he’d hurt Marcia. All that mattered was the future.

He straightened, his heart thumping in his chest. Suddenly, after a decade of misery, he once more had a possibility of a future with Marcia.

He wanted that. He wanted to seize that opportunity with both hands and make the most of it. He wanted to tell her; he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to touch her with the knowledge that there was a possibility of a forever and that she knew it .

“Thank ye,” he whispered, although he wasn’t sure if he was thanking Bull or God himself.

His best friend’s booted foot dropped to the ground. “Dinnae thank me yet. We have much to do to find a killer and protect ye and Allie. Call the troops, we’re having a council of war.”