“We cannae have ye as a spy, Eadan. Ye’re laird of the castle, and ye stand out,” Ronan said.

Eadan glared at his cousin. He and Ronan had just met with his trusted men in his private study, and his men had just left. They were spying on Dughall and his men for Eadan, but they’d found nothing. And there was still no sign of Naoghas, dead or alive. Weary with their lack of progress, Eadan had proposed doing the spying himself.

“I could be discreet,” Eadan said, raking his hand through his hair with frustration.

“’Tis a foolish idea, and ye ken it. Yer men are doing the best they can,” Ronan said. “And . . . I have tae tell ye. Gossip’s swirling about ye and Fiona.”

“What gossip?” Eadan asked, stiffening.

“That ye seem close for two people trying tae get their marriage annulled.”

“’Tis no one’s business,” Eadan said, avoiding Ronan’s eyes. “She’ll be gone soon.”

But Ronan was perceptive; he trained an intense gaze on Eadan.

“What’s going on between ye and the lass?” Ronan asked. “Ye can tell me, Eadan.”

Eadan hesitated. He and Fiona had agreed to keep her secret to themselves. Everyone would think she was mad, and for those who didn’t, they’d accuse her of witchcraft. Eadan trusted Ronan with his life, but he wouldn’t divulge her secret to anyone. He expelled a sigh, deciding to tell him a half truth.

“I care about Fiona. More than I should,” Eadan hedged, though his words were an understatement. Fiona had infused his world with light, with joy. He dreaded the day he’d have to part with her.

“Have ye bedded the lass?”

“That’s not yer business,” Eadan growled. He didn’t want Ronan—or any man—to even think of his Fiona in the throes of passion.

“Ye are,” Ronan said, shaking his head. “I know jealousy when I see it. I suspected yer feelings for the lass when ye attacked Uisdean. Fiona is bonnie, of that there’s no doubt. But doonae let her distract ye, Dughall’s—”

“I’m not distracted. I’m doing everything I can tae bring Dughall down,” Eadan returned.

Ronan’s mouth tightened, but he gave him a quick nod before leaving him alone.

Eadan sank down into his chair. He’d just lied to Ronan; Fiona was distracting him. He recalled her lush body writhing beneath his, the sweetness of her quim, his name on her lips as she came, and arousal filled every part of him. He thought of her amusement as she tried to explain the concept of a “computer” to him, her soft laughter that reminded him of bells, the determination in her eyes when she told him she would stay to help him.

Eadan rubbed his temple. It was no surprise that people around the castle noticed how he behaved around Fiona. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her when he was in her presence.

She’s still going back tae her own time, he told himself. This situation with Dughall would resolve and she'd be out of his life, forever. He imagined her in this distant future, eventually marrying another man, and his fists clenched at his sides. He forced away the thought, jealousy and pain filling him at the thought of his Fiona with another man.

Eadan made himself focus on reading papers that Naoghas had left behind regarding land requests from various nobles of the clan.

When a servant notified him that supper was being served, he pushed aside the papers, his eagerness to see Fiona so great he had to restrain himself from practically running to the great hall.

But before he could leave, Ronan entered, his mouth set in a grim line. He was holding a trembling male servant by his arm. Eadan recognized the servant as Maon; he’d worked at Macleay Castle for many years in the stables.

Eadan’s eyes widened in surprise as Ronan threw Maon to the floor, glowering at him.

“What are ye doing?” Eadan demanded, glaring at Ronan. He wouldn’t tolerate the mistreatment of his servants, and shock filled him at Ronan’s behavior. His cousin had always treated the servants with kindness.

“This man,” Ronan bit out, “was following yer wife. He admitted he’s a spy for Dughall.”

Fury coiled through Eadan. He reached down, dragging Maon up by the collar of his tunic, his hand going to the hilt of his sword.

“P—please, m’laird—" Maon sputtered.

“Why were ye following my wife?’ Eadan snarled.

“Dughall—he paid me. Wanted me tae follow ‘er—not tae harm ‘er, I swear. I was tae follow ‘er and report back to ‘im.”

Eadan’s grip eased on Maon’s collar—a little.

“How long have ye been following her?”

“’Tis—’tis only the first day,” he said. “Please—” Maon’s eyes glistened with tears. “I’ve a sick bairn, and we cannae afford tae pay the healer. Otherwise, I’d never’ve done it. Mercy, m’laird. Please.”

Eadan gazed down at the man, sympathy filling him, dampening his rage. He recognized a desperate man when he saw one. He was lucky he hadn’t harmed Fiona or Eadan wouldn’t feel so merciful.

“How much is he paying ye?” Eadan asked.

When Maon told him the amount, Eadan swore. That bastard, he thought. Dughall spent that much coin to spy on Fiona?

“I’ll pay ye double,” Eadan said, after a pause, ignoring Ronan’s curse and look of disbelief. Maon’s eyes widened, as he continued, “Ye pretend tae keep spying on Fiona, but this time, ye give Dughall false information. Tell him that Fiona’s eager tae leave, we keep our distance, and I suspect another clan of wrongdoing. Ye report back tae me or Ronan at the same time every day in the stables. Regardless of whether ye help me, I’ll arrange a healer for yer bairn. But,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “if I get word of ye telling Dughall any of this and betraying me again, I’ll not hesitate tae destroy ye. Understand?”

“Aye,” Maon said, looking both terrified and relieved. “I understand.”

* * *

Eadan hated to do it, but he took supper in his chamber. If Dughall had more spies working in his castle, he didn’t want to risk them reporting his behavior around Fiona. He wouldn’t be able to mask his feelings for her, his concern.

But once it was late and the castle had gone quiet, he went to her chamber.

His heart lifted at the sight of her; she was changing into her nightdress. She stilled at the sight of him, relief flooding her expression.

“I didn’t see you at supper,” she said. “I—I thought you were avoiding me.”

“I was,” he admitted, and a look of hurt crossed her face. “But not for the reason ye think.”

He told her about the servant who’d been following her. She paled, sinking down into the bed.

“This is why ’tis important that ye’re careful. I think Dughall will harm ye. Fiona,” he hedged, forcing himself to continue, “are ye certain ye want tae stay? Dughall is—"

“I gave you my word,” Fiona said, her eyes flashing, and another surge of admiration went through him. “A deal’s a deal.”

She held his gaze, and he gave her a relenting nod.

“How was yer time in the kitchens?” he asked.

She looked pleased that he changed the subject, though she sighed.

“The servants acted like frightened animals around me,” she said. “I tried striking up conversations, but I only got one word replies.”

“They’re used tae Magaidh,” he said darkly. “She treated them with contempt. Give them some time, they’ll warm up tae ye.”

He knew he should leave and return to his own chamber, but he’d stopped listening to logic the moment he made love to her that first time.

He approached, reaching out to stop her as she started to lace up her nightdress, heat spreading through him as he touched her bare skin.

“Ye willnae be needing tae get dressed, siren,” he said gruffly, before his mouth claimed hers.