Page 16 of Duncan

Shaw led Nicole downstairs, passing through halls with guards stationed at every entry and exit. The men all had swords and spears, and looked ready to use them, although they simply smiled or nodded at her. Shaw finally led her into a big, sparsely-furnished chamber. There Connal stood beside a large table with a man who looked like him and Shaw. When they saw her they both stiffened, and the shorter man’s eyes narrowed as he studied her from head to toe.

Neither one of them like me,but that guy might actually hate me, Nicole thought. A few men in the past had reacted the same way upon meeting her, and it was usually for the same reason. That or he just didn’t like her. Either way, she should tread carefully around him.

“Mistress Fairley.” Connal politely bowed to her before gesturing to the other man. “My seneschal, Fletcher. He’s wed to our seamstress.”

So he was Lark’s husband. Hopefully he gets over his grudge or there goes my new wardrobe.

“Good morning. I met your wife earlier, Seneschal.” She curtseyed to them both. “The chieftain said you needed to speak with me?”

“We wished ask you some questions,” the laird said, and gestured for her to sit down at the table. When she did, he and Fletcher joined her, but Shaw remained standing by the doors. “You came from the twenty-first century?”

“Yes.” As she spoke she saw Fletcher tense. “I’d also like to return as soon as possible. How may I help you and your clan?”

“I’m gratified you’re willing,” Connal told her. “We dinnae ken how you may serve the MacMar. ’Twill likely be revealed once your boon manifests.” At the blank look she gave him he added, “My first wife’s ring bestowed a power on you while saving you and bringing you here. Valerie reads the mind of anyone she touches.”

In a panic Nicole thought back quickly, relaxing only when she remembered the other woman hadn’t touched her. “What about your wife, Seneschal?”

“Lark may lift or move anything with but a thought,” Fletcher said.

From the way they were both watching her they were expecting her to confess to having something similar. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any power. Maybe I didn’t receive a boon.”

“Dinnae fret, Mistress,” Connal said, his tone softening. “’Twill soon make itself obvious, I reckon. We wish ken more about you and your life in the future, if you’d tell us.”

“All right.” She wondered why he’d need that information, but played along, editing the details as she spoke. “I’m twenty-four, single, and live in Massachusetts. I have a degree in economics, and I specialize in financial management. I consult with a number of non-profits about ways to better fund their endeavors.”

Fletcher scowled. “Do you any true work?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” She gave him the warm, friendly smile she reserved for people who aggravated her the most. “Would you like me to better explain the details of what I do? The non-profit industry in my time can be quite complex, especially in regard to endowments, trusts and estate planning, so you may not understand.”

“Please dinnae take offense, Mistress,” the laird said quickly. “’Tis only that we wish understand why the ring chose you, and what power it’s bestowed on you.”

“It was probably a mistake and, as I’ve said, I don’t have any power.” She stood up. “May I go now?”

“I’ll escort the lady downstairs,” Shaw said, joining them. To Nicole he said, “’Tis time for the morning meal.”

She sensed an ally in the chieftain, something she definitely couldn’t expect from the other two men. “That would be delightful, thank you.”

DUNCAN STAYED in the shadows as Shaw brought Nicole out of the laird’s chamber. She held herself rigidly, as if she were angry. Once they were out of sight he slipped inside, where he saw Fletcher arguing with Connal.

“Mayhap she stole the ring from the intended,” the seneschal was saying. “For she serves no purpose—and admitted as much herself. I dinnae trust the wench. ’Tis something about her—from the moment she stepped foot in here she set my teeth a-grinding.”

The laird shook his head. “No one but the clan and our vassals should recognize my wife’s ring, Brother. The lady spoke truth.” He frowned as he noticed Duncan. “What do you here, Healer?”

“I’ve been listening outside.” He regarded the seneschal. “’Tis obvious you dinnae care for our new guest, Fletch, but I expected you should treat her with some courtesy, my lord.”

Connal started to reply, and then shook his head.

“You’ve no’ our concerns,” Fletcher said at last, his expression shuttered. “All you do, ’tis useless against our enemies.”

He always knew the seneschal considered his calling more befitting a mortal, but this time he’d gone too far.

“I didnae prove useless that summer when raiders riddled you with arrows, as I recall,” Duncan told him. “Cutting all of them from your flesh took nigh on a day and night, and then I tended you through the fever brought on by the poison-dipped arrowheads.”

“Och, but shall you prevent Mistress Fairley from seducing Merrick’s warriors?” the seneschal countered. “As she’s done with you. Mayhap she means enslave every man.”

Duncan bunched his fists. “Say that again.”

“Enough,” the laird said, stepping between them. “We shallnae pass judgment on the lady. We need ken more of her boon. As for Duncan, he’s just as useful as you, brother.”