Aye, and if he had to choose a companion in all of this, it would most assuredly be she.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Torches had been lit in the courtyard, keeping the incipient dark at bay, and they lent a certain garish air to the scene. Alan, or so Annista thought, might have been a chieftain of old raising his clansmen ahead of some raid or battle, seeking to hearten them.
Only in this case, the footmen and stable hands were pitifully few and the women—all maids of varying stations, save herself—appeared terrified.
Alan spoke to them swiftly and honestly, as was doubtless their due. They had witnessed much, these faithful attendants, from the attack upon Tempest—poor Tempest, Annista could only fear how he fared—to that upon their master. Their reactions to what Alan told them now showed what kind of Master Neilan MacKallan had been, for the men went steely and the women wept.
Moreover, these folk knew the danger in which they stood, for they, if any, had witnessed what Evan MacKallan was. It was wise of Alan to turn to them now. To do so while sparing no blows.
“He will be comin’ soon,” Alan said, gazing from face to face in order to impress it upon them. “He will likely be sober—for I canna imagine how he would get access to the drink. That may no’ help much. He is capable o’ most anything.”
“Master Alan,” asked one of the kitchen maids, “wha’ d’ye think he would do?”
Alan shook his head.” He might attack any who stand before him. Try to finish the master. Set flame to the house.” He glanced at the building in question, which stood as a hulking, dark shape at his back, only a few of its window-eyes lit.
One of the other kitchen maids moaned.
“Ye maun be ever vigilant,” Alan went on, “but I do no’ want ye to tak’ any chances wi’ yer safety, understand?” He looked at the men. “Nay heroes. Ye will leave him to me.”
And what, Annista asked herself, when Alan did face Evan again? For she did not doubt it would come to that. As he said, there was no one else to stand against the threat Evan represented.
Would she lose this man to Evan MacKallan even as she’d lost her sister? This man she—
Loved.
Och, aye, she might as well admit it to herself, if no one else. She had fallen for the very man to whom she’d been bartered by her father—so mercilessly, as she’d thought. Given her heart right away to him.
Now her heart was breaking all over again. For while all of those gathered here stood at risk, Alan risked more than anyone.
He went on in a steady voice, “I want for ye to stay in sight o’ one another whenever possible. Do no’ get caught out alone. D’ye understand? And mak’ noise if ye catch any glimpse. Holler it out strong.”
And would Alan then go running to the assistance of any who called? He was but one man, and she’d seen the condition of that wound he bore. Could he possibly stand off against that redheaded madman?
“We stand wi’ ye, Master,” Seumas said stoutly, and they nodded gravely to a man—and a woman.
“Morag…” Alan turned to the woman. “Ye remain near your mistress, who sits wi’ the master. Seumas—” He looked that young man in the eye. “Ye go wi’ her. And arm yousel’, mind.”
Seumas paled but nodded.
“Bonnie—keep ye near your mistress also. The rest o’ ye—women to the kitchens, and men on patrol—in twos, mind, and armed.”
They nodded and figuratively girded themselves before moving off.
Annista stepped up to Alan and seized his arm. “I think ye should ha’ the physician look at that wound o’ yours while still he is here.”
He glanced at her. “Nay time now, and ye ha’ wrapped it—”
“I did but a clumsy job. Alan, husband, please. I will go wi’ ye now up to the solar.”
He seemed to consider before he nodded.
She huffed out a breath, amazed at how relieved she felt. How much she cared.
“And I will ha’ a promise fro’ ye.”
“Another promise?” His lips quirked. “Are we no’ done wi’ all that?”
