"Where is Kristen?" Rodney Brownwell inquired as he leaned against a post, watching Trevor trot a colt around a ring on a long tether.
"Why do you ask?" Trevor responded dryly, not bothering to look at his friend.
"I've been here half the day and haven't seen your lovely bride yet. After her narrow escape of the hangman, I assumed you wouldn't let her out of your sight."
Trevor wasn't sure he even remembered seeing Kristen after the trial. Everything had happen so fast. The one thing he did remember was watching the coach as it rolled away from the prison. "Kristen is with her grandfather," he said in a gruff voice.
"Oh, I see." Rodney propped his arms on top of the fence. "She is visiting."
"No," Trevor said flatly as he handed the colt over to a groom. Slowly, Trevor walked over to where Rodney stood. He wished Rodney would drop the matter, but he knew his friend well enough to realize he wouldn't. "Kristen is living with her grandfather."
"What!" Rodney shouted. "Why?"
"It was an agreement I made with Johnstone to get his complete cooperation at the trial. He said he deserved Kristen since he'd missed her all these years."
Rodney's eyebrows snapped together. "And what did Kristen have to say about the subject?"
"We didn't ask her," Trevor replied.
"Don't you think she should have a say in the matter?"
"She could have said something at the time. But she didn't say a damn thing," Trevor snapped.
Rodney wasn't in the least perturbed at Trevor's abruptness. "So how long are you going to leave her there."
"That, my friend, is completely up to the lady in question."
"Wait a minute." Rodney grabbed his arm. "You take a thief, clean her up, make her suitable to be your wife, marry her, pay off her stepfather, then hire the best lawyers to get her acquitted when she kills a man. And you're going to let her walk completely out of your life after she's turned it upside down." Rodney stopped, but only because he needed to take a breath. "Well, are you?"
Trevor frowned. Rodney had summed up the last few months of his life in a simple statement. "Something like that."
Rodney straightened and glared at Trevor. "Are you bloody stupid?"
"Careful, Rodney," Trevor warned. Then, a little exasperated, he asked, "What would you have me do?"
Rodney gave him an incredulous look. "Well, doing nothing most certainly isn't working. Go after the woman you love and bring her home."
"Rodney, my friend," Trevor said. "You make everything sound so simple. Have you thought that she might not want me?"
"Rubbish! I have seen the way Kristen looks at you and, I might add, I've also noticed the way you look at her," Rodney pointed out. He crossed his arms over his chest.
Trevor didn't want to admit that Rodney was right. But Trevor felt an acute since of loss. The pain in his heart had become a fiery gnawing, impossible to ignore. "Have you ever wanted something so badly that you hurt inside?"
"Can't say that I have. And I'm not sure I want to if it makes me as miserable as you are," Rodney said, smiling. "What do you want, Trevor?"
"Kristen." The word seemed torn from Trevor's throat as he surprised himself by finally admitting the truth.
"Then, by God, go after her. Make peace with her family if you have to, but claim what is yours."
"What if she doesn't want me?"
Rodney patted Trevor on the back. "You'll never know unless you ask."
Trevor wasn't certain what he should do. He had never been in this kind of position before. He'd always known exactly what he wanted, and to be thrown in this role of uncertainty dug like a thorn in his side. He didn't like it.
Rodney made everything sound so simple. That he and Ian hated each other was an enormous obstacle. Trevor didn't want Kristen to have to chose between him and her family. "I've never been in this situation before. I don't know what to do."
Before Rodney could respond, Hagan and his groom came galloping up to the stables, and Trevor forced himself to calm down.
"Slow down, young man," Trevor said in a teasing manner. He reached for the pony's bridle.
"I had a wonderful time," Hagan said, sliding from his pony into Trevor's arms. He wrapped his arms around Trevor and squeezed.
Rodney cleared his throat.
"Who's this?" Hagan asked, peering around Trevor.
"A friend of mine," Trevor said, then put Hagan on the ground in front of him. "Rodney Norman Brownwell, Marquess of Middleton. Rodney, I would like for you to meet Master Hagan."
Hagan tilted his head to the side. "How do you remember a name that long?" he asked with typical, childish innocence.
Rodney laughed. "I agree it is a bit much, and difficult to remember at first. You may call me Rodney."
"That's much easier," Hagan said, then turned back to Trevor as if that were the end of it. "Aren't you going to ask me about Kristen?"
Rodney chuckled and arched an eyebrow.
Trevor glared at Rodney, but he stooped to look at Hagan.
"How is your sister?" Trevor finally asked.
"She wanted to know what you were doing," Hagan said. He smiled, his face brightening. "I told her about Flash." Then Hagan's smile faded. "Trevor, when is Kristen coming home?"
Trevor studied the child, reluctant to admit he'd been wondering the same thing, and hating to acknowledge he didn't have the answer. He cleared his throat and tried to formulate an answer.
"Trevor and I were discussing that very subject when you rode up, Master Hagan," Rodney said. "I think your sister is coming home very soon."
"Good." Hagan's smile returned. "I want to have you both in the same place. I'm hungry," he informed Trevor.
"Go dress for dinner. We'll follow soon."
Hagan scampered toward the house, then stopped suddenly and came back. "Grandfather said they're going to have some Scottish games five days hence." Hagan held up five fingers. "He said lots of big Scottish lads will come to Scotgrow and compete. Can we go?"
Trevor smiled grimly. "I wouldn't miss it."
"Do you suppose they'll all wear those skirts?" Hagan asked, making a face.
"Those skirts are called kilts, and yes, they will wear them."
Hagan giggled, then turned and ran off toward the house. "Trevor," Rodney said, drawing Trevor's attention away from the boy. "I think there is something else you should know."
"I'm not sure I like the sound of that."
"Your uncanny sense is as good as always." Rodney chuckled. "But this is news you will not find amusing, I assure you. I learned that the two men who sabotaged the Alastair and sent it to the ocean bottom worked for Ian."
"That filthy bastard!" Trevor felt the blood surge to his face. "Are you sure?"
"Evidently, Ian's grudge ran deep," Rodney replied grimly. He watched Trevor, but other than the tightening of Trevor's hand on the fence post, there wasn't any visible reaction to the startling news.
"He most certainly will not get away with it," Trevor said with determination. "I'll press charges."
"And put the old man in jail?"
"Of course. What would you have me do?"
Rodney shrugged. "Ian is technically related to you by marriage. That would make him a relative whether you like it or not. I don't think your wife would understand."
Trevor slammed his closed fist against the stable wall. "You're bloody right."
A lone rider galloped across the meadow, drawing Rodney's attention. "Are you expecting a guest?"
"No."
He nodded toward the advancing rider. "Well, I think you're getting ready not only to have company, but also to confront your enemy."
Rodney bowed then headed for main house. "If you'll excuse me, I'll see you inside."
Trevor turned back as Ian Johnstone galloped up on a magnificent white stallion. He must have seen Trevor for he headed straight toward him. Ian pulled his mount to a halt in front of Trevor.
Ian didn't dismount at first. He sat upon the stallion and looked down at Trevor with a critical eye. Ian could see more of Constance than her husband in Trevor. Perhaps, there was some good in the man. However, Ian had yet to discover what it was.
"So, have ye been missing me, lad?" Ian taunted as he dismounted and tied off his mount.
"Like a bloody stomach ache." Trevor folded his arms across his chest. "Why have you come?"
"I've come for Kristen."
Instantly, Trevor forgot his anger. "What's wrong?"
"Kristen isn't verra happy. Somehow, Lord knows why, she seems tae be missing ye," Ian said, though it pained him to do so. "I think ye should pay her a visit."
"Did she send you?"
"Nay. However, since I'm the one who insisted she needed time to herself, I wagered it was my place tae fix the problem."
"Then you are ready to let Kristen go?" Trevor showed very little emotion.
"If that's what she wants," Ian said.
"Strange that you should appear," Trevor said. "I was just informed that you had one of my ships sunk. Do you deny the fact?"
"Nay, I do not," Ian replied, looking Trevor straight in the eye.
"I cannot believe that you freely admit your deed. Perhaps, you're more of a man than I first thought." Trevor shifted his stance. "Why did you do such a thing?"
Ian shrugged. " 'Twas before I met ye."
Trevor glanced impatiently toward heaven. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Ye're family now," he acknowledged grudgingly. "I can see much of Constance in ye, so ye canna be all bad."
"It's so good of you to approve of me," Trevor said sarcastically. "Especially when one of my best ships is at the bottom of the sea."
"Did ye know that half the shipping business was once mine?"
"Really?" Trevor arched an eyebrow.
"Yer grandfather cheated me out of my half after I sank all my saving into the ships. I thought ye were just like him, so a few setbacks seemed in order. I figured ye were some dandy who had inherited his wealth and . . . ." Ian paused and shrugged. "Ye see the picture. Perhaps, I was mistaken. I will pay for yer lost ship."
"You're damned right you will!" Did the old buzzard think he could waltz in here and confess and Trevor would forget everything?
"Watch it, lad, I'm not used tae this generous mood."
"What made you change your mind?"
"Despite the fact that ye are a Claremont, I believe ye tae be an honest mon. And, as I said, I see much of ye grandmother in ye. You canna be all bad."
"Thank you, I think," Trevor said, frowning. "You have mentioned my grandmother several times. What was the feud about? Grandmother would never explain."
"I've just finished recounting the entire story tae Kristen. She will tell ye, providing ye are mon enough tae go after what's yers."
Trevor's expression became a mask of stone. "What do you mean by that?"
"In order tae be accepted by the Johnstones, I think ye need tae prove yerself worthy of my granddaughter. 'Twould be the way of it if she'd been living with me all along."
Trevor chuckled. A sound that came out dry and cynical. "You want me to win back what is already mine?"
Ian leaned back against the fence, his tension relaxing. "If ye think ye can," he taunted.
"And how do you suggest I win her back?"
Good, the lad was interested. Ian smiled. "By participating in the games we're having. There will be many brawny lads there, and Kristen has been long without a husband. She could decide that some of those Scottish lads look much better than ye do."
Trevor stiffened immediately. "I need to play games in order to impress my wife?"
Ian threw his head back and roared with laughter. "Are ye afraid, lad?"
"Of course not," Trevor snapped. "I will participate in your bloody games. If for no other reason than to wipe that damned smile off your face when I do win!"
"I'm warning ye, the games are verra hard. It takes a brawny mon tae hurl those cabers." Ian moved back toward his horse.
"Thank you for your lack of confidence." Trevor propped both arms on the top rail. "I'll be there."
Ian mounted his horse, then looked back at the man. "I'm glad we had this little chat. I won't tell Kristen that ye are coming. Just in case ye change ye mind."
"I won't change my mind, you old buzzard," Trevor said. "Now be off with you before it's dark and I have to invite you to stay with me." This time the warmth of his smile echoed in his voice.