The Striker Read online

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  “I know you think it wasn’t anything, but I won’t take a chance—”

  “It was Marjory.” It was his turn to be shocked. He drew back to gape at her. “I was coming to tell you, but your father said you were in a meeting and could not be disturbed.” Now she knew why. More secrets.

  “How do you know?”

  “Eachann saw her going into the room with a ‘gift.’ He asked her about it today when Marjory came to spend the afternoon with your mother working on the new tapestry.”

  He swore.

  “Your mother had much the same reaction, although not so plainly put. I’ve never seen her so angry. I took Eachann from the room, but Marjory left a short while later in tears. I’m sure the incident will not be repeated.”

  “I’m sorry, Maggie.” He shook his head, furious. “Damn it, my own sister!”

  “You have nothing for which to apologize. Marjory is not your responsibility.”

  “I’ll speak with Fin, when I get back.”

  “Don’t. It will only make it worse. Besides, I suspect your sister’s marriage doesn’t need any more challenges.”

  Perhaps the same could be said of hers. She wanted desperately for Eoin to trust her, but maybe she was asking too much. Maybe forgiveness was all she could expect?

  Would that be enough?

  In her heart she knew it wouldn’t. She did not need to know all the details, but he could not cut her out of half his life as he had before. Not when she knew the difference now. There was something he was hiding. Something important. But she could not force him to trust her.

  She turned away. “I will see you when you return.”

  He grabbed her elbow to turn her back. “Don’t be like this, Maggie. I want to tell you, but I can’t.”

  She dipped her face so he wouldn’t see her disappointment and hurt. “I understand.”

  “No, you don’t,” he said, turning her face back to his. “Nor should you. It’s just . . . damn it, it’s complicated.”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She didn’t know whether she’d start sobbing or start hurling demands and accusations at him. But neither would do either of them any good. It would only make it worse.

  Patience, she reminded herself. But how long would it take?

  Eoin made it as far as the dock before he turned around. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave her like this.

  It felt too much like last time—except maybe this time it was worse. He didn’t have accusations and demands to fuel his anger, distracting him and helping him convince himself he was doing the right thing.

  He wasn’t doing the right thing. All he could think about was the hurt and disappointment in her eyes when he’d told her. A stony lump had formed in his chest, and it had only grown heavier as he’d left her standing in the barmkin beside his parents, clutching Eachann’s hand like a lifeline. Seeing her so vulnerable ate at him. Margaret was strong, confident, irrepressible. He was breaking her heart, damn it. Just like he’d done six years ago.

  “It can’t work . . .”

  She was right, if they were going to have a chance, he needed to trust her. “I have to go back,” he said.

  Campbell had already jumped in the birlinn and was readying the ship for voyage. Oddly enough, he didn’t look all that surprised by Eoin’s pronouncement. “Forget something?”

  “Aye, to tell my wife where I’m going.” The blunt admission elicited only a quirked brow from Campbell. “Do you have an objection to that?”

  The other man shrugged. “Not if you don’t.”

  In other words, Campbell trusted his judgment. Eoin knew that—they’d all had their lives in each other’s hands at some point over the last seven and a half years—but somehow this felt different. He acknowledged the show of faith with a nod.

  Campbell’s mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Marrying the enemy’s daughter isn’t easy, is it?”

  Eoin smiled back at him, appreciating the understanding that could only come from someone in the same position. “You can sure as hell say that again. Give me a few minutes.”

  He took the stairs two at a time, hoping to catch her in the yard, but the small group that’d bid him farewell on what was allegedly a short trip to Dunstaffnage had already dispersed.

  He nearly ran into his father as he started up the stairs to the tower house. “Did you forget something, son?”

  Eoin shook his head. “Have you seen Margaret?”

  “She went to the stables. I think she said she was going to go on a ride.”

  His chest stabbed with a hard prick of guilt. Damn it, he really must have hurt her. He remembered riding away had been her first impulse when she’d been hurt by Comyn’s sister all those years ago.

  He found her in Dubh’s stall with one of the stable lads, securing the saddle around the horse.

  She jumped when she heard him come up behind her. “Eoin! I thought you were . . . you startled me.” He thought he glimpsed a twinge of fear in her expression before it turned to concern. “Is something wrong?”

  “Aye.” He told the lad to fetch the horse a carrot and give them a few minutes of privacy. As soon as the boy was gone, he startled her again by drawing her into his arms. “I forgot to tell you something.”

  She blinked up at him, obviously confused by his odd behavior. The light through the open window cast soft shadows across her delicate features. Her skin was so smooth and pale it almost looked translucent. “Yes?”

  “You didn’t ask where I was going.”

  Her gaze held his for a long heartbeat. “I thought it was a secret.”

  “It is. But I trust you.”

  Her eyes widened. “You do?”

  He was ashamed of how much surprise there was in her voice. “Aye. I want it to be different this time.” He wanted to make her a part of his life—all of his life.

  “So do I,” she said, the surprise turning soft with happiness.

  He took a deep breath; it wasn’t easy sharing things he was used to keeping to himself. “John of Lorn is making trouble again. There are rumors that his men are in the area, trying to scavenge up some coin. We have reason to think they’ll target his former lands in Appin next. We’re going to set a trap for them and see if we can learn what they have planned.”

  She didn’t need to know the details, the gist was enough. More than enough. Though he was not technically breaking his promise to Bruce—he hadn’t told her about the Highland Guard—he knew his cousin wouldn’t approve of him telling her anything about his activities.

  But Eoin intended to have a serious talk with Bruce the next time he saw him. Either he let him out of his promise or Eoin was going to leave the Highland Guard. The secret of his role in Bruce’s army was too big to keep from her. She might not need to know all the operational details, but she needed to know what he was involved in.

  Margaret had been right: he owed her a duty as much as he owed his cousin. Eoin hadn’t made his wife a priority before, but that was going to change.

  He made sure to impart the seriousness of what he was telling her. “No one not involved in the mission knows this but you, Margaret.” He hadn’t even told his father as much as he’d told her. “That’s the way we like to keep it.” The less people who knew, the less chance there was for something to go wrong.

  She bit her lip, concern clouding her features. “Will it be very dangerous?”

  “It’s nothing I haven’t done a hundred times before. I won’t lie to you, there is always an element of danger, but it’s greatly reduced by having the element of surprise.” He smiled. “It’s better to be the pirate, remember?”

  The jest earned him a smile. “I thought you called it Vikings and Highlanders. Which one is the pirate?”

  He grinned back at her. “Both.”

  She laughed, and he pressed a soft kiss on her lips. A soft kiss that nearly turned into something more, when her hands wrapped around his neck and her breas