“Ye may go—I will handle it,” Logan answered, though it was clear from his tone he knew Kendrick was spying. The maid must have turned on her heel and walked off, for there was only quiet for a moment.
“Kendrick!” Logan shouted, and he flung open the door to the room. As his uncle entered the chamber, he took a step back, clearly taken aback by its darkness. Logan called out to the maid and asked for the candle she was holding.
“Why are ye still inside with yer candles out, lad?” Logan asked as he saw to lighting the sconces.
In his palm, Kendrick held the luckenbooth brooch, flicking it back and forth. He wasn't sure what to do, and his thoughts of seeing Sophia after all this time kept getting in the way of his thinking.
“Naething. I simply need some peaceful time before the feast begins.” Kendrick sat back on the chair and relaxed.
“Yeoughttojoinyervisitorsin the hall, now.”Loganlitthelastcandle. “Nae laying inyerchamber like a lovelorn lad.”
Kendrick was at a loss for words. He and Logan had never talked about the night his mother died. Logan was his father's younger brother, and he admired him greatly, so he would not believe such a scandal. Regardless of how badly he needed to express his concerns, Kendrick concluded that telling himwould be futile.
“I will join the feast when I am ready, Uncle. Dinnae worry. In a few minutes, I will be down with all of ye.”
“Ye must go now, milaird. Our men and their families are waiting for ye.” Logan smiled reassuringly. “Have I not taught ye? A laird does nae show up late to his own feast.”
Reluctantly, Kendrick got to his feet, still clutching his father’s brooch.
As they made their way to the great hall, Logan must have noticed the weariness on his face for he asked, “Are ye alright? Ye have looked troubled since the meeting was held a few days past.”
“Naething troubles me,” Kendrick lied. “It may be that I am worried from the thoughts of marriage and preparing the feast.”
“By chance, do ye worry that I might take yer position as laird?” Logan asked.
Kendrick turned to him. “Is there a reason why I should be?”
“Nae, lad,” Logan promised. “I have nae fancy in yer place as laird, and ye ken that already.”
Kendrick looked at his uncle with a half-smile. He never doubted Logan's devotionfor hehad stayed by his side and provided consolation when his mother died, despite his best efforts to isolate himself. He became like afather to him. But despite having Reed and Logan by his side, Kendrick knew that bitterness had taken over a large portion of his heart.
Between the nightmares, the lasses whose faces changed but their purposedid not, and his terrible fear of marriage... Kendrick was certain that without his uncle and best friend, his entire heart would perish.
“I’ve never distrusted ye, Uncle. Ye’ve never given me reason.”
Logan held a gentle gaze at Kendrick. “Ye ken, my lad, sometimes I wish ye were my own son.”
“Has there been a time when I was nae yer son?” Kendrick gently patted Logan’s back. “I shall always be yer son.”
Logan sighed in relief then went ahead to nag him, “Focus, milaird, ye need to choose yer wife tonight.”
As if it is nae already chosen.
Kendrick's face fell as they entered the hall and sat next to each other at the far end of the feasting table. His eyes were secretly searching for Sophia. Part of him wished to see her again, while another wondered if it would be better if they never met again.
A footman poured ale into a silver goblet set on the table. Kendrick drank it in one gulp, hoping it would make him feel better. It made no difference.
“Easy with the ale, milaird,” Logan cautioned him. “Ye need a clear head to make the right decision, and the farmers should nae see ye drunk.”
“Ye really are getting old,” Kendrick mocked. “Ye should fuss less. This is a feast, and feasts are meant for us to drink.”
He filled the cup with more ale and was about to drink it when he noticed a squat, stout man with a round face and a grey beard approaching the head of the table where he was seated.
A maiden who resembled the man's female counterpart trailed close behind him, only she was much shorter and rounder.
“That is the second largest landholder, Gregor Gewan, and his sole daughter,” Logan muttered. He stared at the pork on the tray in front of him and then at the father and daughter who were now drawing nearer. “I would say she is nae a good fit for ye, this is why I did nae mention her before.”
The man lowered his head as he reached Kendrick’s table, and his daughter followed suit behind him. “Good evening, milaird.”