Page 32 of When the Laird Conquers

Was that why? He couldn’t say for sure.

Still, something compelled him to reach for the straight razor that he hadn’t touched in years. In truth, it would be quite the adjustment to see his own face without the beard once more.

He took one last look at himself in the mirror and began to shave.

“Did ye get too close to a candle or somethin’? Did ye singe yerself, and that’s why ye’ve done this?” Keith asked, gawping at him.

Gordon rolled his eyes, tempted not to answer as he walked with his man-at-arms around the perimeter of the castle, beyond the walls, searching for weak spots. The guards on top of the walls had been instructed to shout if they couldn’t see him and Keith anymore.

“Can ye concentrate on what ye’re meant to be doin’?” he chided.

Keith shook his head. “Walkin’ beside a stranger, I daenae think I can.”

“Ye’ve seen me with me face shaven before. It’s nae so peculiar.”

“Aye, but the last time must have been… I cannae even remember when,” Keith insisted.

Gordon expelled a frustrated sigh. “Well, stop starin’ at me and start starin’ upward. If someone who wishes us harm scales these walls because ye were too busy gapin’ at me face, ye willnae care for the consequences.”

Of course, he had known that there would be some surprise when he emerged from his chambers that morning with a face shaven down to stubble, but this was ridiculous. Keith had known him for at least fifteen of his thirty years, and he had not always had a beard in that time.

“I just want to make sure ye’re nae ill, me Laird,” Keith said, a teasing note in his voice. “Ye see, I noticed all the curtains are open, too.”

“And?”

“And ye’ve kept them closed for as long as ye’ve had yer beard.” Keith shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I suppose I was just wonderin’ if it had somethin’ to do with a pretty English lass who walked right through our defenses.”

Gordon shot him a dark look. He had not spent all night trying to pluck her out of his thoughts just for Keith to ruin it with foolish accusations.

“Nay, it doesnae,” he replied sharply. “Now concentrate, or I’ll call someone else down here to take yer place.”

Keith put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Apologies, me Laird. I promise, I’ll behave.” He paused. “I’m just gettin’ reacquainted with yer jaw, that’s all. Forgot ye had one.”

Truly, Gordon had no idea what all the fuss was about. Most of the lairds he knew flitted between bearded and not, and most of his soldiers were the same, shaving when their beards became annoying or inconvenient. Why was it suddenly so remarkable for him to decide to shave off his beard?

“I cannae see ye!” a voice called down from the battlements.

Gordon stopped and daubed a stripe of red paint onto the wall in front of them. “Marked it,” he shouted back up.

The two men continued on, the conversation shifting away from Gordon’s lack of facial hair at last.

“Why does it feel like we’re preparin’ for war?” Keith asked. “Is it nae just a handful, if that, of Englishmen?”

Gordon shook his head. “I daenae ken how many we can expect or what force they might arrive with. Those villagers wouldnae speak to me, which is exactly why ye are goin’ to ride there later today and ask them what the Englishmen looked like, what they said, and where they said they might be headed. I want to ken what they ken, so we can be ready for anythin’.”

“I was worried they might nae talk to ye,” Keith sighed. “Very well, I’ll see what I can coax out of ‘em. Although, I’d wager that if ye rode there again today, they’d speak to ye.”

Gordon groaned. “Why? Because they wouldnae recognize me?”

He got to the joke before Keith could and watched the closest thing he had to a friend pout at the loss of his entertainment.

For a while, though not nearly long enough, they walked in silence, listening out for the shouts of the guards so they could add more marks to the walls. Anywhere that Englishmen could creep up unnoticed, particularly at the side of the castle that stood nearest to the forest.

“The lass isnae some secret princess, is she?” Keith asked suddenly, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Like, we’re nae about to fight the English army, are we? Ye ken I’m nae one to turn down a scrap, me Laird, but we mightnae have enough men if it comes to that.”

Gordon shot him a withering look. “She’s an earl’s daughter. So far as I ken, the earls down there daenae have armies of their own.” He hesitated, thinking. “They can probably petition the Crown to borrow some soldiers, but I doubt anyone would agree to send a battalion after an illegitimate child, just so a toad of a duke can pretend she doesnae exist.”

“Is he married or somethin’, and his wife his ragin’ mad?”