Page 29 of The Highland Laird’s Hellion Bride

“Aye.”

“So, he’s been watching longer than we thought.”

“He’s always been watching.” Magnus walked to the narrow stone window. The courtyard below was going about its usual evening business: the hounds wandering, the stable lad carrying a sloshing wooden bucket, Mrs. McAulay crossing to the kitchen with her shawl pulled tight around her against the rising wind. “He waited until there was something to watch more closely.”

Duncan stared at the floorboards. “The betrothal.”

“The betrothal.” Magnus turned away from the window. “He waited thirteen years for Ben Cruachan to collapse on its own. It didnae collapse. Now it has a future, and the bastard cannae stand it.”

Duncan released a sharp breath through his nose. “What do ye need?”

“The southern ridge. Three men, trusted, rotating on watch. Nobody who talks.” Magnus stepped to his heavy desk. “The gate guard doubles from tomorrow morning. I want two men on the north approach as well; it’s been too light since summer. Nobody rides that river alone, and nobody rides after dusk without me explicitly kenning.”

“Aye.”

Magnus opened the top desk drawer. Jinny lay inside, the heavy iron blade he had carried since he was sixteen years old, the one he had pulled from his father’s ruined study in the bloody days following his death. It was the only thing that had survived the fire intact. He had needed something that had survived intact.

He lifted the weapon by its worn leather handle. It felt as familiar to him as his own hand. He felt the razor edge, a mindless habit of his thumb, and found it sufficient. He threaded the heavy leather belt loop and settled the familiar weight against his right hip.

The weight was right. It had always been right.

“Duncan.” His cousin was watching him from the doorway, his arms hanging loose at his sides. “The guards at the gate, make sure they understand that Lady Elspeth doesnae go beyond the stone walls without an escort. She doesnae ride unless she is with me or one of our kin. Ye tell them it is a routine precaution. Nothing that rouses her concern.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “And if it’s more than watching?”

Magnus looked at the heavy oak door, at the dark corridor beyond it, at the vast shape of the castle settling into the cold evening around him.

“Then it willnae be watching anymore,” he said, his hand tightening on the hilt at his hip. “And we’ll be ready.”

Duncan said nothing. He nodded once, pulled his woolen cap back over his brow, and turned on his heel.

Magnus stood alone in his study. He pressed his palms flat against the dark wood of the desk, staring down at the ledgers open in front of him, the neat lines of figures waiting exactly where he had left them this morning.

He then let out a sigh and drew Jinny from her sheath, the polished length of the blade catching the low firelight. He turned her once in his grip before sliding her home again at his belt. He started walking toward the Great Hall.

* * *

Elspeth appeared in the doorway of the Great Hall wearing a dress he had never seen before. A deep, dark forest green. It was simple wool, with a neckline that was by every reasonable measure modest.

Her hair hung down her shoulders, loosely pinned back at the temples with small bone combs. The warm flare of the hearth fire caught the deep copper shades in it.

She looked at the long table, took in the rough men already seated, and smiled. She took the seat directly across from Duncan, which placed her diagonally from Magnus. It was, geometrically speaking, the worst arrangement available in the room.

She thanked the serving girl by name.

Magnus looked fixedly at his plate. He did not know how she had learned the girl’s name. He had lived at Ben Cruachan for thirteen years. He knew the girl’s face, her work, and the fact that she was efficient at it. Elspeth had been here a mere four days and knew her name was Fenella, and now was deploying it with a quiet warmth that made the girl’s face light up with surprise and quiet joy.

“Fenella,” Elspeth said, leaning slightly forward. “Is there bread still? I apologize; I should have come down sooner.”

Fenella murmured that there was bread and hurried toward the kitchens.

Magnus cut into his venison.

“I was reading this afternoon,” Elspeth said to Duncan.

He looked up from his ale. “Aye? Find anything interesting in the dust?”

“There is an entire shelf of philosophy.” She reached for her wine chalice, her fingers slender against the dark pewter. “I didnae expect it.”