by Victoria Zak
Clan Lockhart, a strong supporter of Robert the Bruce and allies of Clan Douglas, had missing cattle and their border was being breached by another neighboring clan. Conall and a few men were to leave on the morrow to investigate before a feud broke out. Holy hell! Why can’t there be peace for just one day?
Chatter from the kitchen brought Conall’s attention back to Effie. She had to be in there with Alice and Abigale, he thought. The three women were inseparable. Ever since Abigale had arrived at Black Stone on the Hill, the lassies had become close, forming a sisterly bond. Effie had told him numerous times that she’d finally got the sister she’d always wanted, and that Alice reminded her of her ma.
Sweat beaded across his forehead and his heart raced as he thought about how he was going to make it to that kitchen. As soon as she saw him, she would know what was going on. Effie could read him like a book. Not to mention, Alice and Abigale would have a few sharp words, scolding him for the bastard he was.
Conall began to pace, then finally he cursed himself a coward and started to approach the kitchen. As he crossed the threshold, Abigale greeted him. “Good morn, Conall.”
“Good morn, ladies.” He bowed his head.
“Someone missed the morning meal.” Alice smiled and winked at Abigale as she chopped carrots.
“Aye, I do believe ye’re right. Do ye suppose we have extra food for our belated guest?” Abigale said.
“Nay, Lennox and Mahboon cleaned up after the men left, but I’m sure an oatcake or two are left. Though probably stale by now.”
Conall grinned in amusement as he leaned his shoulder against the wall. His tension eased as he realized he wouldn’t be confronting Effie, at least not yet. He folded his arms across his chest. Abigale and Alice were relentless with their teasing. It was frowned upon to miss the morning meal. It was an act of rudeness, as Alice would say.
Alice placed her knife down and walked toward a counter where a steaming trencher of porridge sat. She grabbed the provisions and walked toward Conall. “Here.” Alice sat the bowl down on a small table used for chopping in the center of the kitchen. “Grab a chair and dinnae be late again,” she scolded.
“Aye, please accept me most humble apology.” Conall grabbed a chair and brought it over to the table. He sat down to eat. “Hmm, Alice. ’Tis good,” he said with his mouth full.
Alice shook her head and began chopping again.
“James and Rory are on top of the battlements teaching Niven archery. Will ye be joining them?” Abigale asked.
Niven? Archery? Now that was a dangerous combination. The lad, God bless his soul, had a nervous tick. Seeing his mum murdered had left the lad a bit on the jumpy side.
“Nay,” Conall wiped his mouth, “I was wondering where Effie may be.”
“Oh, she’s down in the bailey fetching the lock and key the smith made for Alice,” Abigale said.
Alice pointed her knife at Conall. “Aye, that should keep the wee bugger out of me oatcakes.”
Niven was also well known for sneaking into the kitchen and stealing Alice’s special oatcakes. The only reason Alice didn’t bend the lad over her knee and swat his bum was because Laird James loved him like a son. Niven admired James, and the young lad couldn’t have had a better role model.
Conall stopped mid-chew. “Effie went to see the smith? Alone?”
“Aye,” Abigale confirmed.
’Twas not good. He began to panic. The lasses swooned over the smith, for he was known for his good looks, and charm. There was a rumor the man was well-endowed. Not that Conall was jealous. For Christ’s sake, he was a dragon, but when it came to Effie, he didn’t trust the blacksmith and his sly antics.
Conall shot up, causing the chair to slide and smash against the stone wall. “Excuse me. I must go.”
Walking out of the door leading to the bailey, he pulled his cloak up around his neck as he passed Alice’s herb garden, now withered, touched by the bite of winter. He made his way to the smithy.
Conall didn’t have to go far, for the shop was close. Besides the smith’s reputation with lasses, he was one hell of a craftsman when it came to armor; he could forge the finest weapons and the strongest swords. James had declared him the smith of the Dragonkine and gave him a forge close to the castle.
Conall rounded the corner and his heart dropped. Effie was entering the blacksmith’s shop.
To continue Conall and Effie’s story, pick up a copy of Highland Storm, Guardians of Scotland Book 2:
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About Victoria Zak
Victoria Zak is an internationally bestselling author of historical and contemporary romance. She weaves magic into her timeless tales, reminding readers anything is possible, especially with a dragon by your side. Raised in Dunedin, Florida, the sister city to Stirling, Scotland, no wonder she grew up fascinated with anything Scottish. Add the ocean into the mix, and it’s easy to see where Victoria found inspiration for her stories.
As a child, she read anything she could get her hands on, which developed into full-scale book addiction by adulthood. Curious by nature, Victoria doesn’t shy away from anything. She enjoys historical research and hanging out at the nearest coffee shop. Victoria currently resides in Maryland with her real-life heroes, her husband and two children.
Victoria loves to hear from her readers. You can connect with her through the links below:
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Books by Victoria Zak
Guardians of Scotland Series:
Highland Burn
Highland Storm
Highland Fate
Highland Destiny
Highland Hope
Ember Brooke Series:
Scorched Hearts
Hearts Under Fire
Daughters of Highland Darkness Series:
Beautiful Darkness
Deadly Darkness
Wicked Darkness
Hell’s Cowboys Series:
My Immortal Cowboy
Stand Alones:
Once Upon a Winter Solstice
The Jewel of Grim Fortress
Midnight’s Kiss
