Ryder stood by the fire in the Great Hall, clutching a tumbler of whisky, which he’d already refilled more times than was perhaps wise.
It had been several hours since Meredith and Melissa had returned from their ride, Meredith’s face grim and Melissa’s stained with tears. Of course, Ryder had immediately assured them he would be happy to welcome their family to his home and had provided a fresh horse for John, who had bolted his food down gratefully, before setting back off to meet the Quinns, who would, they assumed, already be on their way here.
Ryder’s voice had been strong, and his manner calm as he’d issued his instructions, but underneath, he was worried. As far as he could tell, Meredith and Melissa, too upset to think straight, seemed convinced the fire had been an accident, and he had said nothing to disabuse them of that idea. Ryder, however, thought differently.
He had visited Quinn’s castle just a few weeks before, and while he could not claim to know it well, he had seen enough of it to know the place was well-built and sturdy. Constructed to endure far more than a fire caused by a carelessly handled candle, or a spark from the fire. No, whatever had caused the centuries-old building to burn so completely had been no accident. Ryder was sure of it.
He shifted uneasily from one foot to the other as he watched Meredith and Melissa talk quietly in the corner of the room. He’d instructed Cook to serve dinner as usual, but no one had much of an appetite, and, instead, he’d found himself pouring another whisky as he stood by the fire, waiting for the knock on the door that would tell them the Quinns had finally arrived.
It was almost a full day’s ride from their castle to his, and the fire had grown low by the time a servant appeared to announce their arrival.
“Ma! Pa!” With a loud sob, Meredith, who had refused to go to bed, no matter how many times Ryder had told her to, was running across the room to hug them both, Melissa hot on her heels. Even Felix, standing behind his parents, his face wan in the dim light of the fire, submitted to a hug without protest — a miracle in itself.
“A bad business, Ryder,” Meredith’s father said, untangling himself from his two daughters and joining Ryder by the fire. “A bad business, indeed.”
Silently, Ryder poured another glass of whisky and handed it to the older man, who gulped it down in one, his face drawn with exhaustion and strain.
“Sláinte,” Ryder said, simply raising his own glass before pouring another for his father-in-law. “And welcome. Me home is yer home, ye know that, ye must treat it as such. I was saddened indeed to hear o’ yer troubles.”
Meredith’s father raised his glass in return.
“I’m grateful to ye, lad,” he said, his voice low. “I daenae know what we’d have done had ye not been here for us. For we have nothing. Nothing. Every last thing, gone.”
His voice broke, and he drained his glass for the second time while Ryder stood awkwardly waiting for him to continue.
“I wondered,” he said tentatively when the older man simply stared down into his glass, lost in thought. “I wonder if ye had any thoughts as to what might have happened?”
He spoke quietly, not wanting to alert Meredith, who now sat huddled together with her mother and siblings at the other end of the room, her arm around her weeping mother. His father-in-law, however, was quick to understand what he was asking.
“Me thoughts are the same as yers, I’d imagine,” he said, looking Ryder squarely in the eye. “Mainly that it couldnae have been an accident. That someone must be behind it. The question is who?”
“A question I’ve been turning over in me mind ever since I heard the news,” Ryder answered, reaching for the whisky bottle and handing it to the older man. “A question I’ve yet to find any answers to.”
Meredith’s father nodded, his face etched with sorrow.
“We have no enemies,” he said simply. “Or none that have made themselves known to us, at any rate. We had, as ye know, fallen upon hard times until recently…”
Ryder nodded, encouraging him to go on.
“…but we had no debtors, no one to wish us ill. We’re not fighters, or politicians, Ryder. We live quietly and try to bother no one. Which is why I cannae understand who would want to do such a thing — to take everything from us, and leave us with nothing? Who, I ask ye?”
“I daenae know,” he said grimly, his eye flicking quickly over to where Felix sat with his sisters and mother, his face still pale with shock. But no. Felix might be somewhat misguided in his ways at times, but he loved his family — Meredith had said as much, and he had no reason to disbelieve her. Besides, Felix had nothing to gain — and much to lose — by being complicit in burning down the castle he would one day have inherited. Even had he not been with his parents at the wedding when the fire had started, Ryder would not have believed the lad to be involved.
It had not been Felix. But who had it been?
“I daenae know,” he said again as he reached to refill their glasses one last time. “But I intend to find out.”