Halli said, “Nay, you won’t. That one’s mine and it’s also Norse.” She stood up, tipped her head down and glared at him. “I’m Norse too, and that’s a Norse sword.”
Dyna had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing at her youngest daughter.
Gwendolyn, Eli and Alaric’s daughter, explained, “You’ll have to have a different sword, Daran. The Norse ones are special. Choose another.”
Yrsi picked up a sword with a smile, said, “You can use mine, Daran. It’s not Norse. It’s Scottish.”
Daran took the sword and muttered, “My thanks to you, but I’d like one of the bigger ones.”
“You can’t have mine,” Liv said, her hands on her hips.
“Nor mine either,” Halli announced with a tip of her head, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “What kind of warrior comes without a sword?”
Logan said, “Lassies, let the guest have a nice sword.”
Gwendolyn, Logan’s great-granddaughter, got up, turned toward him with a glare, and marched over until her face was a hand’s length from her great-grandfather’s. “Mind your own business.”
The four adults, all shocked and doing their best to contain their laughter, leaned away from the wee lass speaking to the elder of the clan. But nothing could have prepared them for what she said next, her voice no longer a child’s. “The girls will handle it, Logan Ramsay. Stay out of it.” She spun around and returned to the group.
Logan nearly fell out of his chair. Alasdair caught him and righted him.
“God’s bones and teeth and everything else,” Logan whispered. “Did you hear that?”
“I wish Eli was here to see it.” Dyna glanced over her shoulder to see who else had witnessed it. “Because I swear…”
“What?” Logan’s hands gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles as white as the snow on the Highland mountains in winter.
Connor said, “I’ll say it. She sounded just like Aunt Gwyneth.”
“Hellfire, Eli named her after Gwynie, but I never expected the lass to act like her.” Logan wiped the sweat from his brow. “You all saw it.”
Connor asked, “Eerie… Does she always call you Logan Ramsay?”
“Nay, she calls me Grandda.”
Alasdair said, “I heard Logan Ramsay just the way Aunt Gwyneth used to say it. It always had this delicious edge to it aimed just at you, Uncle.” His grin was a bit too wide.
The group soon broke up because Eli came down the stairs with her other daughter, so the girls ran to join them.
Except Gwendolyn, who still stood facing Daran.
Connor whispered to Dyna, “Does Gwendolyn unsettle you? You’re white as bog cotton.”
Dyna, wide-eyed, tipped her head toward the two bairns facing each other. “Aye, she does.”
Eli said, “Come into the kitchens with me, Gwendolyn.”
The lass followed her mother but then spun around and moved back to Daran.
Gwendolyn pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “You probably think you can beat me.”
Daran scowled. “Beat you at what?”
Gwendolyn smiled and said, “At anything. You can’t. I’ll always win.” Then she moved over to Dyna, leaned over and said, “Lia’s on her way.” Without another word, she followed her mother into the kitchen, never glancing back.
Logan grabbed Dyna’s hand. “She sounds like Gwynie. She walks like Gwynie. Do you not agree? She’s Gwynie. My wife found a way to haunt me. I swear.”
Dyna snorted, covering her mouth with her hands. When she had herself controlled, she said, “Mayhap she’s trying to tell you something? Or help you the way Grandmama did with Grandpapa.”
