“George Sinclair would slice a man in two without thinking anything of it, but he would never harm a horse, not even a wooden one.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Did she wonder what his life had been like here at Girnigoe? If it was as loud as she was imagining with tempers flaring and pawns flying to meet with fiery ends? He glanced toward the door to the room, which stood open. “This is the quietest Girnigoe has ever been.”

“So…the clumsy pieces?”

“Were whittled by my brothers and me, some better than others.” His mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. “Sometimes we had to use rocks for the pawns when Da was in a rage for weeks.”

“Which son inherited his temper?” she asked, and set the knight back in its place.

Cain huffed softly. “All of us and none of us, depending if we are on the battlefield. Although Joshua picks a fight more than the rest.”

“I suppose being the God of War he likes to cause fights.”

She was trying to provoke him. “Not God, messenger from God,” Cain corrected. “And I think Joshua’s warring temper as a two-year-old lad started Da thinking about raising us after the horsemen of the Bible.”

She tipped her head, and the loose waves of her long hair draped to one side. It shone like a sheet of dark silk where a stray sunbeam hit it from the windows cut up high in the cone of the tower. With half her hair pulled up on top, her delicate jaw was exposed. A curl, pulled from the design, hid the blasted brand.

“Raised you after them?” she asked.

What were they talking about?

He focused on the soft pink of her lips as she continued. “Then you do not believe that you four are actually the four horsemen from the Bible, heralding doom for the world as written in Revelations?”

Cain looked away from her, inhaling. He’d gone around and around about the terminology and philosophy with Gideon many times before. Their father was certain of their biblical origins and had raised them to believe it, too. But George Sinclair had changed so much after his wife died. It was as if she’d kept him sane, and without her guidance and tempering, he’d let his wishes become his reality.

“As far as I know, I was born from my mother, not a cloud. Although Pastor John argues that coming down from a cloud could be an interpretation of one being born from between the thighs of a woman.”

Her lips turned up into a small smile. “He really said thighs of a woman?”

Cain nodded. “The image of our mother’s inner thighs made Gideon gag.”