Page 77 of Highland Storm

“I love ye, Phoebe. I would have found any way possible to marry ye. Besides, after ten years, and by the fact she had children with another man, I am sure we could have convinced the church to give me an annulment.”

Caleb rode by on his horse, cradling something in his arms.

“Wait,” Hawke called out, his low voice vibrating against her back. “What have ye got there, Caleb?”

“Only the little critter that kept stealin’ my food. I’ve decided since he willna leave me alone, he’ll be my new pet.” He held up something that looked like a cross between a weasel and a polecat.

“What is it?” asked Phoebe, not sure she’d ever seen anything like it before.

“It’s a pine marten,” he told her. “It’s usually nocturnal so it’s sleepin’ now. It likes to snuggle up in my travel bag.” He reached down and put the slinky animal into the bag attached to his horse.

“Yer pet is a pine marten?” asked Hawke. “How is that supposed to help ye or scare away intruders?”

“Its stealth is what I admire the most,” said Caleb. “I’m goin’ to teach it to be a little thief. Then, when I need somethin’ from an enemy . . . or possibly even ye, I’ll send in Marty to get it.”

“Oh, ye named it Marty. How cute,” said Phoebe with a giggle.

“I think it’s ridiculous,” grumbled Hawke. “But then again, I’d expect no less from ye, Caleb.”

Apollo shrieked from up in the sky and Hawke held out his arm. The bird landed in a flutter of wings. Phoebe jerked, not feeling comfortable near the bird yet.

“What is that in its mouth?” she asked.

“Looks like Apollo picked up a mouse for lunch.”

“A mouse! Get it away from me,” she cried.

“Go on, Apollo,” said Hawke, sending his bird up into the sky.

“So when’s the weddin’ and where will it be?” asked Ian, riding up to talk with them.

“I dinna ken,” said Hawke. “I suppose wherever Phoebe wants it.”

“I’d like it to take place at the MacKeefe camp in the Highlands,” she told him.

“Are ye sure?” asked Hawke. “It might be better to house and feed all the people from both clans at either Crookston or Hermitage Castle.”

“Nay. I’d prefer it out in nature. And I’d like to have a mini Highland Feis as well, where the MacNabs and the MacKeefes can compete.”

“The Highland Feis doesna take place until the fall,” said Caleb.

“And they are for all the clans, no’ just two,” added Ian.

“Well, this will be our special gatherin’,” said Phoebe. “A Highland Feis Weddin’ Celebration. I want to see Hawke toss the caber again.”

“Hah!” said Ian. “He can toss it, but my son, Storm, will win. He always does.”

“Well, mayhap it’s time to change that because, this time, I am goin’ to win,” said Hawke, sounding mighty confidant.

“If so, we’d better make sure that the king’s chronicler and his daughter attend so they can record the deed,” suggested Phoebe.

“Och, no’ them,” complained Hawke.

“Why no’?” asked Phoebe. “Afraid ye’re goin’ to lose?”

“Nay. I just dinna want to see Caleb followin’ that wench around like a lovesick lad again.”

“I dinna do that,” protested Caleb.