encouragement to spill from the cart. They ran ahead, completely forgetting the promises they’d made to Catriona.
Malcolm, Laird of Ravensmuir, might be her lady’s brother, but Catriona could guess all too well the ilk of man he was. She knew best how to face such a man, lest she become another of the casualties he left in his path. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and descended from the cart like a queen instead of a servant.
They could not leave for Kinfairlie soon enough for her taste.
Chapter Two
Malcolm left Rafael behind as he strode forward to meet his sister.
“Malcolm!” Vivienne’s delight was more than clear. “You are returned!” She flung herself into Malcolm’s embrace with characteristic abandon, and he could only catch her.
He felt the curve of her belly immediately and once again, he was vexed with Erik of Blackleith. How dare that man treat Malcolm’s gem of a sister with such disregard? Instead of swinging Vivienne around and returning her greeting, Malcolm put her down on her feet and stepped back, his hands resting on her shoulders.
“You ride like this when you carry a child?” he demanded sternly.
“Oh, you have become dour,” Vivienne protested, utterly unrepentant. “Look at these lines upon your brow! And what has happened to your beautiful nose?” She did not wait for his reply. “I am months from my time and well enough to ride.” His skepticism must have shown, because she leaned closer and widened her eyes. “I know , Malcolm. I have borne a child before, while you, I wager, have not.”
Malcolm could not dismiss the sense that Erik took his wife for granted and did not show Vivienne the courtesy she deserved. It was the same tale as their courtship and he was displeased to see it continue. “But still…”
“But still , it is wondrous to see you.” Vivienne surveyed him with a sunny smile. “You are taller and stronger, more of a man than when you left. And you look most fierce. Oh Malcolm, I am so glad to see you returned!” She kissed his cheeks in succession, her relief so tangible that it warmed his heart.
Erik drew his steed to a halt before them in that moment and he dismounted in less good temper than his wife. “You should not ride so hard,” he chided her. Malcolm could have been reassured by his manner, but he feared it was for the sake of appearance alone.
He made no effort to hide his displeasure.
Perhaps he could make a change in Vivienne’s circumstance.
Vivienne only smiled at her spouse. “You fret overmuch. Look, Malcolm is home!”
The other man spared a glance to Malcolm. “And so the mercenary returns with the spoils of war,” he said, his disapproval as clear as Alexander’s had been. Malcolm’s joy at seeing his sister again was quickly dispelled. Erik eyed the keep. “I see you use your ill-gained fortune to some good purpose, at least.”
“Erik!” Vivienne appeared to be shocked, but Malcolm was not. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at the other laird.
Erik held fast to the reins of both horses as he considered Malcolm. “Welcome home.”
Malcolm regarded him coolly. “I hardly think it your place to welcome me to my own holding.”
If Erik was surprised, he hid his reaction well. “I meant to Scotland, of course.”
Malcolm inclined his head slightly, noting Vivienne’s quick intake of breath. “I apologize for any misunderstanding.” Malcolm held Erik’s gaze, satisfied when the other man blinked first.
“Aye,” Rafael said, clapping a hand on Malcolm’s back. “The Hellhound made his fortune and then some with the ferocity of his blade. They say it dripped red blood for seven years, and never will the stain be removed.” Malcolm watched Erik flinch, and the pair of them survey his companion with uncertainty. “There was not a one who could stand against such savage conviction.” Even Vivienne averted her gaze at that.
“My comrade in arms, Rafael,”