Connor dropped the quill. “Is it a threat?”
Alex hesitated.
Connor narrowed his eyes. “Alex.”
“It isloud.”
For the first time that morning, MacAdair looked uncertain.
Connor rose to his feet, his chair scraping across the floor. “Stay here.”
MacAdair stood as well. “If there is something at yer gate, I will see it before I sign me sister into this clan.”
Thalia rose more slowly. She stopped near the door, one hand grazing the wall as if she might need the support.
Connor took his sword from where it rested against the wall. “Suit yerself.”
He crossed the study and stepped out into the passageway with controlled speed. Servants flattened themselves against the stone walls when they saw him coming, and two guards on the stairs turned at once, stepping aside before he had to speak.
MacAdair followed close behind, with Thalia and Alex behind him.
“What kind of loud?” Connor asked.
Alex grimaced. “The strangest kind, I must say.”
“Well, that narrows it poorly.”
“Aye, me Laird.”
They passed through the lower hall and out into the courtyard. The sound reached him before the sight did. A sharp, furious cry cut through the yard near the outer gate.
Connor stopped for a fraction of a second.
Is that?—
He moved.
His men had gathered in an uneven circle near the gatehouse. Warriors who had faced raiders, cattle thieves, and winter marches stood with their weapons drawn or half-drawn, staring at the ground as if the devil had climbed out of it. His irritation wavered before fading into concern.
“Move,” Connor ordered.
The nearest guard jumped aside.
“They didnae ken whether to touch it,” Alex muttered.
“Touch what?”
Alex swallowed. “It.”
Connor rolled his eyes, pushing through the circle with his sword ready.
A basket sat on the stones, and in it, wrapped in a blanket too fine to belong to a crofter and too plain to belong to anyone of lower class, lay a newborn baby. His face was red from crying, his fists tight and his small body writhing against the blanket. The rest of the men stared at him with open alarm.
“Good Lord,” Connor huffed, moving closer. “I should train ye harder if a bairn can hold the gate against twenty armed men.”
One guard cleared his throat. “He was screaming, me Laird.”
“Aye. Many enemies do before they lose.”
