Fabian considered the question. His love for Lillian lived in his heart and soul, not in his head. It was a pure and genuine emotion. “I would die for her. As long as I live and breathe, no one will dare hurt her again.”
Vane frowned. His intense gaze searched Fabian’s face. “Lillian has told you about that devil of a rogue Martin?”
“She has.”
“Has she told you about our time in Italy?” Vane spoke slowly and with reservation.
Fabian placed his hand at the base of his throat. He could almost feel Lillian’s pain. “I know whose likeness she keeps close to her heart.”
Vane seemed surprised. He dragged his unblemished hand down his face. “What happened in Italy, it … it broke her.”
Evidently, it had affected Vane, too. Anyone could see that a wealth of pain lingered behind his stone facade.
“Then know I intend to do whatever it takes to help her heal.”
“I pray you do. Lillian deserves some happiness after everything she’s been through.” Vane paused and glanced at the door. "Send for her. Let her see you’re still alive so that it may ease her fears.” He grabbed the poultice and pressed it gently over his knuckles. “That is unless you wish to take this battle of wills to round two.”
Fabian chuckled. “I make it a point never to hit a man while he’s down.”
“Oh, I’m not down. I can hit just as hard with my left hand.”
Fabian didn’t doubt it. “Perhaps some other time. Besides, I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“Gratitude?” Vane arched a brow. “Why do I sense you’re mocking me?”
“It is thanks to Lillian’s shooting skills that I stand here today.”
Vane shrugged. “Then perhaps I made a mistake in insisting she take lessons.”
The ancient door creaked open, and Mackenzie entered. “Is there anything else you need, my lord? If you’ve no objection, I’d like to venture over to the cottages to check on Mary.”
Heavens, the man truly was besotted. “I think we have everything in hand now, thank you, Mackenzie. But can you find Lady Ravenscroft before you go, and ask her to join us?”
Mackenzie hesitated. “Aye, my lord.”
Fabian watched him leave. His friend looked troubled. But then unrequited love often made a man sullen and morose. He turned to Vane who was staring at the fan of swords on the wall. “You have the look of a man desperate to demonstrate his parrying skills.”
“Not at all.” Vane made an odd puffing sound that carried a hint of amusement. “I was admiring the display. Sitting here, one cannot help but feel as though they have journeyed back four hundred years.”
“I have always preferred a simplistic life.”
“You consider sailing the seas and living on a desolate island simplistic?”
“I consider living anywhere free from the hypocrisy of the ton to be an advantage.”
Vane gave a nod of approval. “Do you intend to remain here? A community of brigands is hardly an ideal place to raise a family.”
“Brigands? They are the most honest, hardworking men I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet.” Well, not always honest. They cheated at cards. Told tales to relieve their boredom. Had shared the odd woman or two. “I’d take my crew over the pompous lords you hold in high esteem.”
“Trust me. I care nothing for those weak, insipid sots who live to tour the ballrooms. I have yet to meet a gentleman deserving of my respect.” He paused. “That is not entirely true. Lord Farleigh is the only exception.”
“Then Lord Farleigh must be a king amongst men.”
“He is.” Vane gathered his glass and swallowed a mouthful of brandy. “So, have you sent my sister out shooting rabbits for your supper?”
The odd question came as a surprise. “What, you assume because we live a simplistic life Lillian must behave like a peasant?”
“Did you not praise her fine shooting skills?”