by Sabrina York
“I know. How annoying is that?” She pinned Keir with a glower. “We doona need them.”
“We most certainly do not.”
“I am so aggravated.”
He almost smiled. “I can tell.”
“I’ve housed them in the loft over the kennel.”
Keir tipped his head to the side. “But there’s plenty of room in the east wing of the castle.”
The smile she offered was sweet. “I’m aware of that. Can we find twenty-five pallets?”
“Pallets?” A conspiratorial light danced in his eye.
“Lumpy ones?”
“I’m certain that can be arranged.”
“Verra lumpy.”
“I’ll speak to Tamhas at once.”
She whirled and made another pass of the room, tapping her lip as she thought. “And weren’t we planning to make some repairs to the privy in the kennel?”
“I, ah … Yes. I do believe we were.” He cleared his throat. “We were also planning to fix the leak in the kennel roof…”
Her smile turned vicious. “That can wait.”
“It’s going to rain. In the next day or two,” he said in a warning tone.
She affected a shrug. “They are warriors. They can take a little rain.”
He bowed mockingly. “As you wish, my lady.”
“Oh, and make sure our men are made aware that if they’re approached by Dunnet’s minions, they’re to come to me. I doona want strangers skulking about asking questions about our strategies.”
“Good idea.”
“Who knows who these men really are? Where their loyalties lie?”
“Indeed.”
“There are far too many strangers in Dounreay. Any one of them could be reporting back to Stafford.”
Keir nodded. His expression hardened. “Stafford is not our only concern.”
Susana nodded. “The raids…” Recently, with the upheaval of the Clearances in the Highlands, more and more people had been displaced and lost their homes. Many had moved to the cities in a desperate search for work, but others had turned to raiding and outright villainy to keep their bellies filled. Within the past month there had been six raids on Reay crofts.
“Beyond that…” Keir pursed his lips. Something in his voice captured her attention.
“There’s more?”
He sighed and scrubbed the back of his neck. It occurred to her—and not for the first time—that he was a very handsome man. His features were bold and strong and his eyes were a dark sleepy brown. His shoulders were broad and his neck thick. His body was roped with muscle. Aside from that, he was loyal and fierce in the protection of Dounreay.
If she were in the market for a husband—which she most decidedly was not—Keir would be an excellent candidate. He would probably not forget a woman he’d kissed. It was a pity she had no interest in him. It was a pity a certain silver-haired Lothario had ruined her for other men.
He blew out a breath and looked up at her through the fringe of his lashes. “I heard a rumor about Scrabster.”
Susana winced. She must have made a face, because Keir chuckled. He was no stranger to her rants about their revolting neighbor to the east. Aside from the fact that Scrabster encouraged his tacksmen to incite squabbles with Reay crofters and frequently made claims on land and cattle that didn’t belong to him, the worm had been relentless in his pursuit of her. Rarely did a week pass by when her father didn’t receive another request for her hand. Even though Susana had turned him down flat every time.
“What did you hear?”
“He’s gathering men on the border.”
Susana ceased pacing and dropped into her chair. “Gathering men?” Bluidy hell. Whatever for? He wouldn’t dare attack. Would he? Then again, it was Scrabster. He was capable of almost anything. If he thought he could overrun Dounreay and claim the land as his own, he might just try.
For the first time, she felt a flicker of relief that Dunnet had sent more men. Though their overlord the duke didn’t care about the fate of his far-flung crofts, at least Dunnet did. Then again, securing their safety was why Hannah had married him, poor thing. A flicker of pity for her sister needled her. Pity … and guilt. Hannah had sacrificed everything—walked right into the wolf’s den—to keep her people safe. And here Susana was, resisting that help.
But it wasn’t Dunnet’s help she resented. It was his brother’s presence. Here. In her world.
“My lady?”
She thrust the inconvenient pang of guilt aside and focused on the captain of her guard. “Aye?”
“Shall we increase patrols on the border?”
She nibbled her lip. Reassigning the men meant the crofts to the south and the western borders would have fewer patrols. But if Scrabster truly was up to something heinous, it was better to be safe than sorry. “Aye, Keir. Shift the bulk of our men to the eastern border.”
His smile reassured her. This was, indeed, the wise choice. “Aye, my lady. I will see to it at once.”
“Excellent. And Keir?”
“Aye, my lady?”
“Keep Andrew Lochlannach and his men busy, will you?”
His chuckle rumbled through the room. “Ach, aye, my lady. I shall. I shall, indeed.”
She grinned at him. It was good to know there was one man she could count on.
And as for Andrew and his enthralling smile, his seductive looks, and his too-tempting lips … well, she would avoid him like the plague.
CHAPTER FOUR
If Andrew thought he was going to find Susana and perhaps get another taste of her that afternoon, he was bound for disappointment. After their altercation, she’d disappeared. He and his men settled themselves in the fragrant loft to the tune of yipping hounds with the help of one of her minions. Then, when he went for a stroll with Hamish, taking in the lay of the land, she was nowhere to be found.
Andrew found this a trifle frustrating, because he was anxious to begin. Anxious to study the current plans and assess where he and his men could help. He hoped to pin her down in a conversation about her defenses at dinner, for which he’d received an invitation.
The invitation had come from Magnus, but Andrew was certain she would be there. Anticipation bubbled through him. The thought of seeing her again sent fire licking in his veins.
He probably wouldn’t be able to kiss her again—at least, not at the table, with her father and his best friend looking on—but maybe later … Maybe he would invite her for a walk in the garden after dinner. Maybe he would kiss her there.
The castle did have a lovely garden. In the moonlight it would be quite romantic.
Though she was a warrior princess, she was, still and all, a woman. She would like to be romanced.
Wouldn’t she?
She would like a kiss in a moonlit garden.
And maybe, if she liked it enough … there could be more.
Buoyed by such hopeful thoughts, there was a spring in his step when he and Hamish arrived at the castle that evening. They were escorted by Tamhas, the factor, into Magnus’s library, where the Laird of Reay was enjoying a whisky.
It was a remarkable library with shelves reaching from the floor to the ceiling of the two-storied chamber. A railing ran around the second-floor gallery, and a curling staircase connected the two floors. Each shelf was jammed with books, some of which, for some incomprehensible reason, sported tiny arrows. The ground floor was scattered with divans and thickly cushioned chairs.
Andrew scanned the room, looking for Susana. His mood dipped when he realized she was not here.
“Ah! My boy!” Magnus heaved himself from the chair by the fire and made his way across the room, greeting both men effusively. He had, perhaps, been at the whisky for a while. “Come in. Come in. Take a seat.” He waved them toward the companion chairs by the fire. “I canna tell you how delighted I am to have company.” He shot a glance into the shadows—though there was no one there but the three of them. “Manly company,” he whispered. “I think t
his calls for a drink.” He headed for the whisky and poured each of them a generous serving of the amber liquid. He topped off his glass as well.
Andrew gusted a sigh as he sipped. It was excellent whisky. It sent a warm burn trickling down his throat and filled his chest with a sense of well-being.
“Not that I doona enjoy having daughters. I do. But a man needs to have manly conversations.” He pounded his fist on his chest. In a manly manner.
“I understand, sir,” Andrew said, though probably only because it was the polite thing to do, agree with one’s host. He couldn’t help looking at the door. “Will, ahem, Susana be joining us?”
Hamish snorted into his glass; Andrew nearly kicked him.
When he turned back to his host, he was stunned by the sharpness of his stare, though Magnus hurried to mask it with a smile. “Nae. She sent word that she is too busy for dinner.”
Andrew’s smile dimmed. He took another sip.
“Too busy for dinner?” Hamish asked. Andrew nearly kicked him again.
“Och, aye, that girl. I doona know what to do about her. She works her fingers to the bone from dawn till dusk. She took on Hannah’s duties when she left for Dunnet. And with all that, the recent raids and attacks … her burden is even more onerous. It’s one of the reasons I am so verra glad you are here. To take a little of the weight from her shoulders. It’s not right for a woman to have such worries.”
“We’re happy to help,” Andrew said. He had to add, “Although…”
Magnus pierced him with a querying glance.
“Although she doesna seem … delighted with the help.”
The old man issued a damp snort. “She’s always been far too stubborn for her own good. If you ask me, her resistance lies in the fact that she doesna want to relinquish control. If you want to make progress with her, take my advice … let her win every argument.”
Andrew leaned forward. “She wants me to leave, sir. That is an argument I canna allow her to win.”
“Bah. She doesna want you to leave.”
Andrew lifted a brow. Magnus hadn’t witnessed their recent exchange in the lea … or in the loft. Thank God.
“She just wants to be in control.”
“Of the defenses?”
“Of everything, perhaps.” Magnus chuckled and though it wasn’t really very funny, Andrew chuckled as well. Magnus took another sip, discovered his tumbler was empty, and refilled it. Then he refilled Andrew’s as well. “I find the trick to dealing with women is to let them think they’re having their way, when they are really having your way.”
Hamish laughed. “Sounds simple enough.”
Ah, but it wasn’t.
“Doona fash yerself, my boy. Susana will come around. She just needs time to think things through. She’ll realize how much we need your help. You’ll see.”
“I hope so.” Hamish helped himself to another drink. “I doona fancy sleeping in the kennels for long.”
Magnus blinked. “The kennels?”
“Aye,” Andrew said. “She’s housed us in the kennels.”
His laugh was a sharp bark. “What the hell did you do to annoy her so quickly?”
Andrew ignored the prickling on his neck. “She said there’s no other space.”
“Balderdash. The castle has empty rooms.”
“We have twenty-five men.”
“We’ve a full wing of empty rooms.” Magnus narrowed an eye. “So what did you do? To annoy her?”
Andrew and Hamish exchanged a look. Hamish bit back his grin, but his expression was telling. This time, Andrew did kick him. It was probably the whisky’s fault.
When he glanced back at their host, he was studying him again with a sharp interest that Andrew found a trifle befuddling. Maybe it was the whiskey causing that stare. Or the befuddlement. Still, he didn’t resist when his tumbler was refilled.
When Magnus finally spoke, it was with an odd query. “So … how long ago were you in Perth?” he asked.
Andrew blinked. “I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Oh, do stop calling me sir. I’m Magnus, my boy.” He clapped Andrew on the hand and squeezed with alarming strength. “How long ago were you in Perth?”
“I … ah.” He frowned at Hamish. “Six years ago?” Six years, two months, and seventeen days. That was how long it had been since he’d last seen Mairi. Not that he was keeping track.
Hamish nodded. “Sounds about right.”
“And what were ye doing there?”
Was it his imagination, or was Magnus a little too curious?
Andrew took another sip. “Studying. My brother … You do know Alexander?” At Magnus’s nod he continued. “Alexander thought it best if I … left Dunnet for a while.”
Magnus nodded. “Ah, yes. Dermid.”
Andrew didn’t wince at the name, but barely. How mortifying was it that Magnus knew exactly what he’d meant? But then, everyone in northern Scotland probably knew the name of Dermid Lochlannach. He’d been a legend. And a monster.
When Andrew’s father had died, Dermid had become guardian of Dunnet … and the Lochlannach brothers. He’d made their lives hell from the moment he’d taken the reins.
Alexander had always done what he could to protect Andrew, often at great cost. After one truly horrific altercation, where Dermid had nearly killed Andrew, Alexander had braved his uncle’s fury and secretly sent Andrew away.
Alexander had paid, and paid dearly for that act, but it had probably saved Andrew’s life. And it was there, in Perth, that he’d met a woman, one who had stolen his heart. She’d made him forget the darkness and reach for the light.
For a brief, shining moment, he’d been happy.
And then the light had faded.
Oh, he still kept up pretenses. He laughed and joked and pretended to be untouched by grief, unaffected by the great hole within him. Alexander expected as much. Everyone expected it of him. He was the blessed one, the brother who’d had an easy life.
He owed it to them, to them all, to play along.
But it was nothing more than a mask. A role.
Somewhere deep inside, something was missing.
He’d felt a flicker of it when he’d kissed Susana. He desperately wanted to feel it again. He tried to ignore the fear that if he did get the opportunity to kiss her again, he might discover it had been his imagination. Or a fluke.
Regardless, if he got the opportunity again, he would kiss her—
“I never did like Dermid,” Magnus grumbled. “He drank too much.”
“Aye. He did.” Andrew set his glass on the table. He’d had far too much already.
“Fell off the battlements, did he?”
Andrew nodded. “Aye. That’s what they say.” He’d been in Perth when his uncle had met his maker. He could not grieve for the man. With Dermid’s death, his exile had ended. It had been a joy to return home. And with Mairi gone, there had been nothing in Perth to hold him.
“Och, well, Alexander is a fine laird.”
“Aye, sir. He is.”
Magnus squinted and speared him with a one-eyed stare. “And how is he as a husband?”
Andrew blinked. “I, ah, wouldna know.”
The old man snorted and leaned closer. “Ye know what I’m asking. Is my Hannah happy there?”
“I believe so, sir.” When last he’d seen her, she’d been gazing into Alexander’s eyes, and he, gazing back, besotted, the both of them. Aye. He would wager she was happy. He pressed down the flare of envy the memory ignited. Alexander deserved any happiness he found. That Andrew might never find the same did not signify. “They seem to be a good fit together.”
“Ach. Aye. I thought as much.” Magnus tapped his cheek with a gnarly finger. “I have a sense for these things.”
“Do you?”
“It comes with my years, I suppose.” He stared out the window for a moment and then sighed heavily. “It is my dream to see all my daughters wed before I die.” This he said softly, but with a passion tha
t could not be ignored.
“I’m certain you will, sir.”
“Will I?” Again he studied Andrew with a curious intensity, and then he blew out another sigh. “I’m not so sure. They are a stubborn lot.”
“Women often are.” This from Hamish, who had obviously had too much to drink as well. He tipped a little to the side in his chair.
“Not as stubborn as the Dounreay woman, I’ll warrant,” Magnus said. “I have four of them now.” He glanced at Andrew and stroked his lip.
“Four?” Andrew blinked. “I thought you had three daughters.” He’d met Hannah and her younger sister, Lana, when they’d come to Dunnet for Alexander’s wedding … and Susana here.
“They’re all verra lovely,” Hamish offered, his eyes aglint.
“Aye. They are lovely,” Magnus said. “But stubborn. And aye. I have three daughters. The fourth is my granddaughter, Isobel.” The way he said her name made clear his adoration and pride. “She’s probably the most stubborn of them all.”
“More stubborn than Susana?” He wasn’t sure what made him ask, some imp deep within his soul.
Magnus rolled his eyes. “My boy, you have no idea.”
“Does she take after her mother, or was her father stubborn as well?” Andrew wasn’t sure what drove him to ask the question. Surely not the desire to discover more about the man who had conquered Susana Dounreay.
Magnus’s brow rumpled. “Gilley?”
“Gilley?”
“Gilley MacBean. Her husband, God rest him. I couldna say he was stubborn. Nae. Not an obstreperous bone in his body. He was a … pleasant man.”
Andrew bit his lip to hold back his retort. Susana with a pleasant man? He couldn’t visualize it.
“Pleasant and quiet. A simple man. He wasn’t the kind of man I would have chosen for her. He wasn’t the kind of man I would ever expect her to fall in love with, but they were verra happy. And he loved Isobel greatly. It was a damn shame he died the way he did.”
Andrew stilled. “How … how did he die?”
“Drowned in the loch, a year or so back.” Magnus shook his head. “He’d gone out fishing … one of his favorite things to do. Apparently his boat overturned and, well, there you have it.”
“That is a shame.”
