Robert looked down at her, his eyes were blazing with rage. “This is a conversation betweenmen,”he told her viciously. “You are not invited to the hunt, and you’re not entitled to an opinion, so keep your mouth shut.”
Grace was shocked into silence for a moment, but Fergus had no such inhibitions.
There was an almighty crash as he thumped his fist on the table and jumped to his feet, his face a mask of rage. “You will apologize to Grace!” he thundered as he stood over Robert, looking into his frightened grey eyes with his blazing blue ones.
“She is promised to me!” Robert said defiantly as he recovered his courage. He knew Fergus would never strike him. “And I will say whatever I like to her!” He was managing to keep his gaze on Fergus’s, not an easy task when their faces were only six inches apart.
Grace stood up and backed away from the table, watching the two brothers as they hurled insults at each other, using words that no gentleman should ever use in the presence of a lady. However, they were oblivious to her and went on arguing. At one point, Robert picked up a plate and tried to smash it over his brother’s head, but Fergus dodged it, and the plate shattered on the floor.
However, it marked a turning point in the battle. Before it had been a contest of words, but now it had become physical; the two brothers were pushing and shoving each other, with Robert, being the weaker, being forced backward. It looked as though the battle was a foregone conclusion as Robert ended up with his back to the wall. For a moment, they stared at each other.
“Are you going to say sorry?” Fergus demanded. “It takes only a few little words. Even somebody with your limited intelligence could work it out.”
But Robert had recovered his courage. Despite being taller and stronger, Fergus had a gentler spirit than his brother, and he reasoned that it was unlikely that he would strike him.
“She is a woman!” he pointed out angrily. “You might want a wife that walks all over you, Fergus, but I don’t. My wife is not going to be a shrew, like our mother.”
Fergus was livid and had to clench his fists by his side to resist the impulse to hit Robert. “Our mother is not shrewish! She is a decent woman who is kind to everyone who deserves it, which is nearly everyone.”
‘Especially you,’Robert thought, but knew better than to speak those words out loud. “I am not going to get into the merits or demerits of our mother’s character with you, Fergus. It’s not worth my time, and neither are you. Sit down and eat your dinner.”
Fergus thumped his fists on the table in indignation, then turned to storm out of the room, but Robert drew his arm back and threw as hard a punch as he could at his brother’s head. The blow connected with Fergus’s face at his upper lip, and he staggered, his eyes wide with shock.
Robert was holding both of his fists up in front of himself, as if to fend off the blow he knew was coming back at him. He had punched Fergus in a moment of madness, and now he knew he was going to have to pay the price for it. This time, he thought, he had pushed his brother too far.
Fergus growled as he touched his throbbing lip. However, the blow had not been particularly hard, and he could feel no blood on his fingertips. Moreover, none of his teeth were broken, and although he was boiling with rage inside, he forced himself to calm down with a huge effort of will. He stepped up to Robert and thrust his finger into his chest.
“That was the first and last time you hit me,” he growled. “And I am going to let it pass this time because I will not descend to your level, especially in front of Grace. But if youevertry it again you will be very, very sorry.” He held his clenched fist up in front of his brother’s face and Robert cowered back in fear.
For a moment, Fergus was tempted to break his word and hit his brother anyway, but then he remembered Grace’s presence. He did not want her to think him a savage. Then he added, “and don’t let meeverhear you speak of our mother that way again!”
Grace stood quivering as the argument between the brothers continued in front of her. When women argued, it was with words and perhaps a little shouting and screaming, but men’s rage was brutal. When Robert had lashed out at Fergus, she had half-expected a return blow that would no doubt have knocked him unconscious, but Fergus had somehow held back. Looking at the tension in his body, and the way his jaw was clenched shut, however, Grace could see the effort it was costing him.
Finally, Fergus turned around and marched out of the room, without even a glance in Grace’s direction. He looked so angry that Grace was glad she had not been on the other side of that exchange. Robert had had a lucky escape!
Her heart pounding, she sat down again but found that her hands were still trembling. She stayed silent, afraid that Robert would start scolding her once more because this time she was afraid, but not of his fists; she had long since learned to defend herself, but she decided to keep her mouth shut. She was afraid of what might come out of it, since she was absolutely furious.
Moreover, she was worried about Fergus. She could see that the injury was not serious, but she was concerned for him nonetheless. She pushed her food around her plate, trying to eat a morsel here and there, but she simply could not keep anything down.
Robert frowned. “Is the food not to your liking?” he asked. “I can have the cook make something else.
‘No, it’s the company I don’t like,’she thought bitterly. “The food is fine,” Grace replied, giving him a tight smile, “but I am rather tired, and I think an early night would do me good. Goodnight, Robert.” She stood up and swept out of the room, without allowing him to say another word.
15
For a moment, Grace stood outside, irresolute, before she realized that Robert might come out of the dining room any moment now, so she hurried towards the stairs, intending to go to her bedroom before she had a sudden thought. She needed to speak with Fergus urgently, and she would obviously not find him there!
She turned, her skirts swirling around her, before heading for the stables. She knew that Fergus often liked to take an evening ride, especially when he had things on his mind. She tried to break into a run but was hindered by her bothersome skirts, and for the thousandth time, she wished she could wear breeches like a man. It would make life so much easier!
Grace slowed down to a fast walk and strode towards the stables, hitching her skirts up in her hands, so that they were less of a hindrance. A few men might see her ankles, but they were hardly likely to go mad with lust!
She arrived at the stables and looked around to see if she could see Fergus, but there was no sign of him anywhere. She looked in every one of the stalls, row upon row of them, but she could see nothing that might indicate he had even been there.
She was just thinking about giving up, when one of the stable lads came up to her. “Can I help ye, Mistress?” he asked politely.
“I’m looking for Fergus MacAndrew, the Laird’s brother,” she replied. “I thought he might be here, but I can’t see him anywhere.”
The young man grinned, He had light brown hair and a pleasant, if not very handsome face with sparkling blue eyes that were full of mischief. “Well, Mistress,” he said, looking around slyly to make sure no one was listening, “Master Fergus has a place he likes tae go if he wants tae be alone for a while. Only a few o’ us know about it, but we keep it secret fae the Laird, because he is usually the one he wants tae hide from.”