Page 26 of Highland Steel

“Logan, I missed ye,” said Effie. “But I’m glad to see ye found yerself a lassie.” She winked at him and giggled.

“Oh, nay, I’m not his lassie,” said Rhoswen. “We’re only passing through on our way to Clan Drummond.”

She realized she must have said the wrong thing, because suddenly the smiles disappeared one by one.

“Drummond?” snarled Aidan. “Dinna mention that name around here, because it isna goin’ to gain ye any friends.”

“Did I hear someone mention the Drummonds?” Another man came forward. He wore the green and purple MacKeefe plaid like the rest of them with a bright shiny badge at his shoulder.

“This is our chieftain, Storm MacKeefe,” Logan told her.

Storm nodded quickly and continued talking. “What business do ye have with the Drummonds?”

“Well I –” she started to speak but Logan held up his hand and stopped her.

“It’s a long story,” said Logan. “We’re all tired, hungry, wet and cold. Can we possibly see to our needs first and talk about this over a hot bowl of skirlie?”

“Oh, you poor things,” said Wren, stepping forward and putting her arm around Rhoswen. “Of course we can.”

“I want to ken about the Drummonds,” said Storm.

“Husband, that can wait until later,” Wren scolded him. “We have guests who are in need of dry clothes and some food and comfort. Lady Rhoswen, you and your sister can come with me. I have some clothes you can wear.”

“Newell, ye can go with Aidan,” Logan’s mother said, pointing to her husband. “Logan’s brother, Hugh is about yer size and ye can borrow some of his clothes.”

“What is skirlie?” Newell asked Aidan, walking over to him.

“Ye mean to say ye’ve never tasted skirlie?” asked Aidan. “It’s a dish of oats and beef drippin’s and onions. Doesna that sound guid? Just talkin’ about it makes me hungry. Come on, lad. Let’s get ye changed so we can eat.”

As they all walked away, Storm came over and spoke quietly to Logan.

“If they have doin’s with the Drummonds, it wasna a guid idea to bring them here, Logan.”

“Nay, it’s no’ like that,” he said. “They were only plannin’ on tradin’ some sword for Rhoswen’s nephew, Lockie.”

“A sword again,” said Storm, shaking his head. “I dinna like this. The last time we had dealin’s with the Drummonds with a sword involved, too many of our clan died.”

“I ken,” said Logan. “But that was a battle between our clans. That was somethin’ different.”

“Well, ye make sure whatever this is about doesna involve the MacKeefes. Because if so, I willna let yer guests stay. I willna endanger the rest of the clan just to save one boy that we dinna even ken.”

“I understand,” said Logan, watching Rhoswen walking away with Wren and her sister. His heart went out to them. He supposed this wasn’t a good time to tell Storm that Rhoswen and her siblings no longer had a home and could never go back to England.

Chapter 10

“So how do ye like the skirlie?” Logan asked Rhoswen as they ate their meal at a long table in the building that served as the clan’s hall. They didn’t have a castle here in the Highlands. Instead they had outbuildings, some made of stone and others of wood and even a few of wattle and daub that housed the many families.

There was a stable for the horses, and a large barn that sometimes held the livestock when they brought it inside during treacherous winter weather – even though the animals were used to the cold. There was also a hospice set up for the old, sick and weak. Half of that building was used for visitors to sleep in.

“It’s . . . interesting,” said Rhoswen, inspecting the spoonful of food. “I can’t say I’ve ever had anything like it before.”

“I love it!” said Newell, finishing off his bowl of food and looking over at Blaine. “Are you going to finish that?”

Blaine made a face and pushed the bowl over to her brother.

“If ye dinna eat, ye’re goin’ to go hungry,” Logan told the girl. “We willna eat again until tonight.”

“What are you serving tonight?” asked Blaine, looking up shyly from the table.