Taming a Highland Stallion: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance (Beasts Of The Highlands Book 8)

by Alisa Adams

  Aria chuckled and shook her head. “That one was always getting intae trouble away from Kinloch. He had a taste for Edinburgh, but Edinburgh did not appreciate Gaufid. It was all Laird Rane could dae tae keep him from the gallows. But now he has come home and seems tae have settled in happily.”

  “How vera interesting,” Gillis said to Aria with a nod of her head as she turned back to eat her food

  Could any of this have tae dae with the Kinloch horses being hurt or Alexander Nisbit being killed?

  A shipwreck? A half-brother with a history of criminal behavior? Secrets about treasure that have been kept for one hundred years?

  9

  “Lady Gillis? I have a question for ye,” came a man's voice.

  Gillis looked up guiltily, not having been paying attention save for her own thoughts.

  “Aye?” she said as she looked at the man across from her that had called out her name. He looked faintly hostile to Gillis.

  “Tom here says that after he changed his horse’s saddle to my saddle, that his horse rode as good as ever.” He looked mulishly at her. “He said ye told him tae do it. Now he’s got me saddle! Whot did his old saddle have tae dae with anything? I told him tae just add another woolen pad if it’s hurting his horse’s back as ye said it was doing!” he snarled at her.

  Gillis’s eyes widened as the table went silent. Every single man there was looking at her with anger in their eyes, save for the man named Tom, who she had met at the gate. And Gaufid, who was smiling where he sat at Rane’s right. And Rane himself, who had a stone look on his face as he stared down the table at his men.

  Aunt Hextilda cackled as she winked at Gillis. “My niece knows all aboot sich things. Tell them Gillis, dear!” Aunt Hexy nodded actively at Gillis, dislodging the knot of wispy grey hair at the top of her head, as was typical, so that the unruly grey nest came to rest against the top of her ear. She shoved it back to the top of her head as she smiled at her niece.

  Gillis swallowed. These men were all skilled horsemen. They were not ignorant in the way of horses. Uneducated in some things, perhaps, but not uncaring of their animals. She spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully. “Adding padding may help in some instances,” she said carefully. “However, if the saddle is tae narrow, extra padding will make matters worse,” she said as she looked at the man who looked confused but interested. Gaining bravery, she snapped her fingers. “For instance, if yer shoes have become tae small and are pinching yer feet terribly, tae the point you cannae walk in them, would adding more woolen socks help?” she asked as she looked across the table at the man.

  The man looked at her with his mouth working, deep in thought at what she had said. He rubbed his nose. “Nay, twould make them tighter,” he said softly as her meaning dawned on him. “More painful, in fact.”

  “Exactly!” Gillis said with excitement as she snapped her fingers again. “Now, if the saddle is tae wide on his back, adding padding could help,” she said just as excitedly. “Just like yer own shoes or boots!”

  “Aye,” the man said grudgingly. He looked around at the other men. “Why did we not think of this?”

  “Because ye arnae as smart as me niece!” Aunt Hexy called out with Duke adding an excited yip as she lifted her glass and then drank with a huge smile on her face.

  Someone said loud enough to carry down the table, “Did I just hear a dog bark?”

  Gillis groaned as she looked down the table at her aunt. ”Aunt Hexy, ye promised tae behave! Perhaps you have had enough ale?”

  Aunt Hexy tried to hide the rolling of her eyes as she smiled and hurriedly took another sip of her ale, ignoring her niece.

  Aria whispered quietly, “Maybe because none of them were willing tae listen tae me about what type of saddle would fit their horses. They were tae concerned aboot the saddle fitting their own bums…”

  Gillis heard her, however. She raised her voice above the murmuring of the men. “I suggest ye see yer saddler regularly tae help ye in the fitting and comfort of yer horses,” she said casually.

  “Lady Gillis!” Aria whispered with embarrassment.

  But Gillis just smiled as she looked around the table at the men.

  One man pinned his eyes on her. “My horse bucks,” he said loudly. “Keeps trying tae get me off his back. Are ye saying the saddle is tae small on his back then?”

  Gillis looked at the man who sat in a slouched position with his large stomach folding over, and his shoulders tipped back to accommodate his belly.

  “Do ye sit in the saddle like ye are sitting now, sir?” she asked him politely.

  The man looked quizzically at her. “Whot?”

  Gillis grew uncomfortable with all eyes on her. She glanced at Rane to see him staring hard. His chin was resting in his hands. He raised an eyebrow at her and gave a slight nod towards the man.

  Gillis cleared her throat. “As the tree is inclined, so tae must the twig be bent.”

  Someone said, “Do ye mean as the twig is bent, so tae is the tree inclined?”

  Gillis looked towards whoever said that. “Nay,” she said simply. “That is not the way it goes.”

  The man who was slouching peered at her. “What are ye meaning?”

  “Does yer back hurt, sir?” she asked him politely, gesturing to the way he was sitting.

  “Aye,” he said as he rubbed the sore part of his body.

  Gillis nodded sharply. “One must endeavor tae keep a balanced seat on the horse's back and in the saddle. If ye sit slouched”—she nodded to the man—“ye are putting all yer weight on the back of the saddle, causing pain tae the horse’s lower back.” She smiled, trying to soften her words. “And to yers as well.”

  The men started murmuring again, loudly.

  “Or,” Gillis added, raising her voice above the din, “perhaps yer saddle is unbalanced and needs a bit more padding in the rear, so it is not sitting down sae heavy on that part of the horse’s back. Ye should have—” She caught herself just in time, as she had been about to say Aria’s full name. “...yer saddler examine how the saddle is fitting yer horse with ye in it. So ye do not slouch, and neither of ye becomes painful.”

  Gillis quickly looked away and became most interested in her food as the men started talking excitedly.

  “And if my Moon rears?” a man called to her.

  Gillis looked up with a startled cough. “Yer moon?”

  Several of the men chuckled. Gillis heard someone say, “’Tis his horse’s name.”

  “Ah, I see.” She looked at the man who had asked this question. “Rearing could be caused by several things. A saddle tae narrow at the horse’s shoulders, sore front feet...even pain in his mouth from a poorly-fitting bit. That is if ye dinnae train him tae rear at yer command.” She smiled and went back to her food.

  Aunt Hexy said casually, “Tsk tsk, sounds like the healer here should look at yer horse for ye…”

  “Aye. Can ye look at him then? Tell me what is hurting him?” he asked with clear concern in his eyes for his horse.

  Gillis looked up from her plate again. She looked around the table and her eyes settled on Rane. His lips were tipped up slightly. He raised his eyebrow once again.

  “Well, aye.” Gillis swallowed. “Aye, of course, I would be most happy tae.”

  “My horse has an old wound that wilnae heel. Can ye help him with that?” another man called to her.

  “Aye,” Gillis said.

  And so it went, on and on, throughout dinner. Their questions came faster, and discussions arose about various problems in the health of their horses. Gillis started to relax and enjoyed answering all their questions, concerns, and debating their ideas.

  There were still several men who openly glared at her and told her she was wrong, but she was content to see that there were a few that seemed to appreciate her answers and help.

  Gillis glanced at Rane to see he was watching the whole interaction with veiled interest as he held his chin in one hand and stared down the table
at his men.

  Little by little most of the men started leaving the table and the great hall. Some stayed behind, however.

  Rane watched with narrowed eyes as several of his men waited at Gillis’s side to ask her more questions.

  One after another came up to her.

  And then more.

  Each man talking away, asking questions about their particular horse.

  Rane finally glared at them and motioned with his head to leave the poor young woman alone. He could tell she was exhausted. She was having trouble keeping her eyes open, and she now sat with her head leaning on one hand, with the elbow of that same hand leaning on the table.

  “Enough,” growled Rane. “Ye must get some sleep.”

  Gillis sat up straight with alarm. “But these men have questions,” she said to Rane.

  “They can ask them tomorrow,” Rane said in a crisp voice. He looked over at one of his young grooms. “A bedchamber has been readied for ye with yer aunt here in the keep. Ye will not continue to sleep in a stall,” he said as he looked at her with his brow raised. “I believe yer aunt has already retired above stairs.”

  Gillis looked towards the magnificent staircase with the huge, ornate newel post and elaborately turned barristers. The skirting of the staircase matched the rich wooden paneling of the walls. It was a work of art. Gillis looked back at Rane.

  “Vera well, I shall no longer sleep in a stall. I will sleep in Mr. Nisbit’s quarters in the stable, just as he did,” Gillis said firmly. “I wish tae be near the horses. They are my patients, after all.”

  Rane narrowed his eyes at Gillis.

  She stared cooly back at him. “It wilnae work,” she said lightly.

  “What wilnae work?”

  Gillis shrugged. “Staring at me with that angry, brooding expression.” She would not be swayed. She would stay with the horses, no matter what the laird wanted.

  Rane saw the resolve in her eyes. He nodded to one of the young boys who came scurrying over. Rane spoke quietly to him, and he hurried off. Rane turned back to Gillis.

  “A cot is being prepared for ye in the grooms’ quarters. For ye tae stay in Mr. Nisbit’s room is unacceptable.” Rane’s voice was curt. He would not be argued with on this.

  Gillis looked steadily at him. “Why?”

  “You know why,” he said as his voice lowered to that smokey timbre he had.

  The sound of his voice made goosebumps rise on Gillis’s arms, and her heartbeat flutter in her stomach.

  Gillis tamped down her reaction to him. She raised one eyebrow and matched his cool, calm look. “I am still waiting for ye tae tell me,” she said in the same soft, husky voice he had just used and the one she had used to placate his horses.

  Gaufid and Aria were still at the table, listening intently. So was Aunt Hexy. Gillis’s aunt had not retired to her bed chambers after all. The three of them had been silently watching Gillis and Rane.

  Gaufid leaned forward. “Because a man died in those quarters!” he whispered dramatically.

  Aunt Hexy looked at her niece. “I agree with the laird. And Mr. Gaufid.” She nodded and then made a slow, slashing gesture across the base of her throat. Duke let out a muffled growl.

  Aria’s eyes opened wide as she watched Gillis’s aunt.

  Gillis looked at her aunt and then at Rane. “His throat was cut?” she demanded of the stone-faced laird.

  But of course he only stared rigidly at her, his jaw tight, with that tick working in his cheek.

  Rane turned from Gillis to her aunt. His eyes narrowed on Hextilda. After a moment, he slowly stood up and walked over to Gillis’s aunt. He looked down at the diminutive old woman and raised one hand, holding it out to her, his fingers beckoning.

  Hextilda frowned at him, until realization dawned. She looked guiltily up at him as she reached under her shawl and pulled the tiny fawn-colored dog out from under her tartan. She held it to her breasts, fearful of the laird’s reaction to her tiny pet dog at his table.

  Rane stared down curiously at the small creature in her hands. He reached down and picked it up carefully, holding it out in front of him, looking into the dog’s pointed face.

  “’Tis a dog?” he said incredulously.

  “Aye,” Aunt Hexy said with worry in her voice. “But he is a guid wee doggy!”

  The little dog stared back at him. Its tail started wriggling as it reached forward and tried to lick the laird's face.

  Rane made a small sound and tucked the dog against his chest and went back to his seat, holding the dog carefully.

  Gaufid watched his brother. “I want tae hold it,” he said firmly.

  Rane did not look at him. “Nay,” was all he said as he looked back at Gillis while he stroked the little dog.

  Gillis looked over at her aunt and then Gaufid and then back at Rane, who was holding Duke gently and carefully against his broad chest. It was an incongruous picture. She shook her head and returned to what they had been talking about until Duke had started growling and interrupted things.

  “Was his throat truly cut?” Gillis demanded of them.

  Aunt Hexy’s head bobbled. “’Twas what I was told. I asked around when I heard the mon was dead.” She looked at Rane, who was holding her precious dog so nicely. “Begging yer pardon, Laird MacLeod, but the keep is buzzin’ like a mad beehive with stories of his death.”

  “His throat was cut, aye. But we cannae rule out—”

  “Dinnae say that he did this to himself!” Gillis interrupted him.

  Rane began again but she held up her hand. “Which direction was the cut?” she asked.

  Gaufid leaned forward again. “How can ye know this?”

  Both Rane and Gillis spoke at the same time. “Ye can see.” They did not take their eyes off of each other as they spoke.

  “What does that matter?” Gaufid asked.

  Gillis spoke to Gaufid while still looking at Rane. “If he did it himself a right-handed man would slice left to right. A left-handed man would slice from right to left.”

  Gaufid sat back. His eyes narrowed as he watched his brother and the lady healer.

  Gillis’s voice lowered. “Was he sitting? Standing? Lying down? All these things must be considered if ye believe he was murdered.” When Rane only stared at her like a stone statue, she continued with a huff of breath. “Did someone come up behind him, or attack from the front? Ye can tell quite a bit when ye have all the information,” she said with a marked look at Rane.

  Aunt Hexy slapped her hand on the table. “My niece has a brilliant mind, Laird. Let her help ye. I’ll not be having her put in a dangerous situation, mind ye. Dinnae ye want to know how sich a thing could happen here? Under so many eyes?”

  “Aye. A little thing is dangerous without knowledge, they say.”

  Aunt Hexy looked at her niece. “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, Gillis.”

  Gillis shook her head. “That makes no sense, Auntie. We need more knowledge to avoid danger, not less.”

  Gillis turned back to Rane, raised her eyebrows, and waited.

  Gillis sighed at the look on his face and said, “That brooding stare isnae going tae work,” she said firmly.

  Rane looked from Aunt Hextilda to Gillis. He let out a huff of breath.

  “He was sitting,” Rane finally said with narrowed eyes at Gillis. “At his desk. The desk faces a wall. The wound was left to right.”

  They looked at each other.

  Gillis nodded and swallowed. Mr. Nisbit was left-handed which meant the wound, if self-inflicted, would have been right to left. Not the other way around. Someone had to have attacked him from behind, since the desk faced a wall. She met Rane’s eyes and saw that he understood this as well.

  He now knew that Mr. Nisbit had been murdered.

  Just as she now knew.

  “I will be guarding ye all night long,” Rane said in a quiet, firm voice. “Just as I have been doing since ye kept falling asleep in my stalls.”

  Gilli
s looked at him wide-eyed. It had been Rane who had covered her with the blanket.

  Aria stood up from her bench. “I can help with guard duty, M’Laird. I will take the first watch.”

  Gaufid stood up as well and glared down at Ari. “Nay, pip-squeak.” Gaufid looked at Rane. “Brother, ye need a guid night’s rest. I will take guard duty.”

  Aria snarled. “Ye big oaf! I will.” Aria elbowed him in the stomach as she went past him and started walking across the great hall to the main doors.

  Gaufid watched Ari go. He ran his hand in frustration over his stomach as he stared at Aria’s departing figure. His eyes were glued to her hips as she walked. He shook his head and grumbled, “That lad is...is...”

  He stopped trying to put into words what he wanted to say. Instead, Gaufid shook his head and caught up to Aria, elbowing her aside to lead the way. They continued that way. Elbowing each other to get ahead of the other, all the way across the great hall to the main doors.

  Rane watched them go. He looked at Gillis with a rueful smile. “It seems ye will have more than one guard.”

  Aunt Hexy looked at him with a scowl and pointed her finger at him. She slowly stood up from the table and came over to kiss her niece’s forehead. Then she looked at the big laird, who had stood up as well. She pointed to him again, wagging her finger.

  “See to it that nothing happens to my niece,” she said as she craned her neck back to look up at the imposing man. She reached up and pulled on his jacket until he brought his head down close to hers. She whispered something in his ear, then kissed his forehead and patted his chest as she murmured, “Good night, sleep sweet.’’ She took her dog gently out of his arms and made her way across the hall to the stairs.

  Rane straightened up, looking totally surprised as he watched the old lady slowly make her way up the stairs towards her bed chamber.

  “What did my aunt whisper to ye?” Gillis asked with great curiosity.

  Rane turned to look at Gillis. His lips tilted up into the slightest smile. “She just threatened my life, that is all.” He looked back at the stairs as he touched his forehead where she had kissed him goodnight.