Page 13 of Lady Len and the Mysterious Mac

She was going to turn her ankle running like that, and then Ellen would have to go and find someone to help carry her reckless sister back to the inn. Sighing, she hitched up her skirts and hurried after her.

A time or two she nearly caught the wretched brat, causing Maggie to squeal with delight and quicken her pace until, completely winded, Ellen couldn’t hope to keep up. She stood in the field, bent over with one hand on her corset and the other on her knee, gasping for breath until a prickling sensation slid down the back of her neck.

Suddenly chilled, she straightened up to see Maggie facing her with a hand up to shade the sun from her eyes. Ellen turned toward the road where stood a large, ashen horse, and on its back cutting an impressive figure in his grey and blue tartan, the MacKenzie himself: Silas.

The heat in her cheeks spread down through her loins as he watched the two of them, his left eyebrow quirked down in an air of consternation. He probably wondered how he’d become betrothed to such an unladylike specimen, traipsing through fields after her hellion sister. She wasn’t lady-of-the-castle material by any means. But she forced herself to stand up straight, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirts, unwilling to wither under his gaze. She may not be the bride he wanted or needed, but she’d had no say in the matter, so why should she hide? If he didn’t want her, let him speak up and end the whole farce.

After an eternity, he tilted his head and tugged his cap, then with the merest twitch of the reins, his horse walked on, and she watched them until they disappeared on the horizon.

“Well,” Maggie said, sidling up to her. “Maybe the beard’s not so awfully bad. Maybe if Lennox grew one, it would hide all those freckles.”

Chapter Four

After handing Uinnseann off to Gawyn, Si went to check on his father. The room was dim and hot, but the Kintail appeared to be resting comfortably.

“I’ve asked Ced’s wife to send up a tonic,” he whispered to Mrs. Kynoch, and she drew back, not trying to hide her annoyance at the obvious intrusion on her nursing skills.

“My healing has been good enough with his last two spells,” she huffed.

Si wanted to explain that he only meant to ease her burden, particularly with the wedding causing her so much extra work, but at her disapproving look, his tongue tangled itself into a knot. She’d be annoyed with him either way. Might as well leave it alone.

“All this fuss. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow,” his father muttered from bed.

“We could postpone until you are,” Si offered, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Och no. The clan needs to see you settled, lad. As do I.”

“The clan doesn’t care about me. They need to see you well.”

“They’ve seen me at all sorts.”

“And since you went away? Since you’ve returned?” Si asked.

“Aye, it was a mistake to ever leave, is that what you want me to say?” The Kintail’s raised voice, no longer booming, brought on another wheezy cough, and he fell back against the pillows.

“You did what you had to and kept it going from afar.”

His father scoffed and shook his head. “If you still think that, it’s only because you’ve been away so long.”

Si rubbed between his eyes and shook his head.

“They’ve been here,” his father said softly. “You’ve not. They see what you cannae.”

Meaning they believed their laird was dying.

“Enough of all that.” Si fiddled with the bedclothes, twisting them into knots like he was nine years old.

“There’s been talk that Norval should be installed as tanist,” his father said.

Well, and hadn’t Si thought it himself? Blair wasn’t shy, he’d make an excellent second. With Alex away, Norval had made sure there were men to fight at Glen Affric and Coille Bhan, and enough money to kit them for victory. Norval alone had collected the rents in the laird’s absence and taken care of everything else. His expertise was one of the reasons Si had stayed put in Aberdeen.

“He’s experienced. Well traveled. Maybe he’s the better choice.”

“Aye, there’s them that suspect he’s the one really running things these last years, and they’re not altogether wrong.” But he didn’t like the idea, Si could tell.

“Could he act as ad litem for Bram?”

“Using fancy words doesn’t make that notion any less foolish. Now get on wi’ ye. And ask Morag to burn some of that incense.”