Page 75 of Sins of the Highlander

Chapter 25

“My lord, my lord!” a round woman burst through the crowd and began dogging them across the bailey.

“In a moment, Mrs. Beaton. I’ll be with ye directly,” Rob said then lowered his voice to Elspeth as they continued toward the smith’s determined clanging. “My housekeeper. She’s been with us since my mother died. A wee bit tetchy, she is, but a terror with a scrub brush.”

“Rob! Ye’re alive!” The smith laid aside his hammer and came away from the anvil to enfold Rob in a hug. A great giant of a man with a flaming head of hair, neatly tied back, and a round, smooth-shaven face, he was a younger version of Angus Fletcher. “There’s been no word. When ye didna come, we feared the worst. ’Tis glad I am to see ye.”

He cast a shy smile in Elspeth’s direction. “Ye must be the Lady Elspeth. We didna have time to be properly introduced last time I seen ye, ye being in a hurry and all, and—”

“And ye must be Hamish Murray.” When his eyes rounded with surprise, she whispered, “Ye have the look of your Uncle Angus.”

“How long have Drummond and Stewart been here?” Rob asked.

“On the morrow, ’twill be a week.”

“Did they parley?”

“Aye, I spoke to them from the walls,” Hamish said.

“Their demands?”

“The return of the Lady Elspeth.” His massive shoulders cringed. “And yer head.”

“Well, I’m no’ inclined to give them the first, and assuredly no’ the last,” Rob said with a snort. “Did ye tell them we were no’ here?”

“They seemed to know already,” Hamish said. “They said the Clan MacLaren were all prisoners in their own keep till our laird gives up his hostage.”

“The first deep freeze will send them scurrying home to their own hearths.”

“Ye didna see their faces, Rob.” Hamish shook his head. “Foul weather willna turn them from their purpose. Drummond and Stewart are set on this.”

“Guess I’ll have to talk them out of it, then,” Rob said, turning to his housekeeper. “Mrs. Beaton, I believe ye have a room ready as I ordered. Will ye see to the Lady Elspeth’s comfort?”

“But, my lord—” the housekeeper began.

“She’s to be given the best chamber and every honor due the daughter of a laird, as ordered. D’ye hear me? Now, see to it.”

Mrs. Beaton puffed up like a wren fluffing its feathers against the cold. “But, my lord, I have somewhat of great import to say to ye.”

“Important or no’, whatever it is, it’ll have to wait till a time when I’ve no’ got an army at my gate, aye?” He gave Mrs. Beaton his back and turned to Elspeth, taking her hand. “Go with her now, leannán, and if ye need aught, all ye have to do is ask.”

“Ye’ll let my father know I’m well?”

“Aye, and I’ll send for ye to show yourself, so he can see ye with his own eyes.”

“Tell him…I’m sorry—”

“Hush. Ye’ve naught to be sorry for,” Rob said with a finger to her lips. “’Tis my error. I’ll fix it. Go ye now, and I’ll see ye at supper.”

***

Elspeth Stewart has a good deal to account for, Mrs. Beaton thought furiously as she led the way back across the bailey to the laird’s keep. The lass has so witched the laird that he willna even hear her begin to take blame for the way she’s thrown him into confusion.

The laird was cagey about it, but Mrs. Beaton was sure he’d begun to look with favor on her niece Margot before this wild venture. He’d danced with Margot a couple times when the whole castle was trying to make merry to cheer him. Margot’s father wasna a laird, but he was a man of stature among the Beatons, rich in cattle and land.

Margot was young and healthy, and her mother had birthed nine live bairns. She came from fertile stock, did Margot. She’d be a good match for the MacLaren.

In fact, Mrs. Beaton’s brother-in-law had sent an offer for the MacLaren. He promised a truly princely dowry for Margot, hoping to form an alliance between their clans. And the laird wouldn’t even let her tell him about it.