Lion's Legacy. Suzanne Barclay
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lip curled. “Females have no business being about men’s work.”
“Defending the clan is everyone’s duty,” she replied.
“You haven’t the skills to—”
“I had skills enough to capture you.”
Kieran’s face turned a satisfying shade of red, and his mouth compressed into a hard line.
Her grandfather made a sound halfway between a choke and a cough. “Well, now. The less said about that, the better, I’m thinking. ’Twas just an honest mistake. All our nerves have been on edge, what with the raiders lurking about.”
“No need to make excuses for my behavior. And the only mistake that’s been made is hiring him,” Laurel replied. She turned on her heel and stalked from the room.
“I’d prefer to ride out on my own,” Kieran said stiffly.
“But ye’ll be needing someone to explain what ye see. And there’s no one knows Edin better than Laurel. Been riding the length and breadth of the valley for years.”
“Without benefit of bath or comb, from the looks,” Kieran muttered. “Very well, then. The sooner I see the lay of the land, the sooner I can set a trap for the raiders. As I said afore, they’re likely outlaws or deserters who came upon Edin and saw an opportunity for quick profit.”
Duncan nodded. “My thinking exactly, but I lacked the battle-trained men to confront them.”
“We’ll make quick work of them,” Kieran promised, then he cleared his throat. “As to money. I receive half the agreed-to fee in advance, the rest when the reivers have been killed.”
“Mayhap ye might waive the advance, since I’m a friend of yer family, so to speak.”
Kieran flinched and his gaze became even more distant and frigid. “I don’t have any family.”
“Was Lion Carmichael not yer sire?”
“So I was told.”
“And ye’re the spitting image of old Lionel Carmichael.”
“How do you know that?”
“We were fostered together. Fell in love with the same lass, we did. George Murray’s daughter, Carina. She is yer grandmam?”
“Aye.” This time Duncan detected a crack in Kieran’s stone facade. So, ho. He still cared for his grandmother. “But I expect half payment before I start a task.”
Disaster. Faced with it, Duncan fell back on the surest of weapons. He shifted in bed and groaned as though he’d ripped out every one of the scores of stitches Nesta had taken putting him back together again. Bless her, she flew to his side.
“What is it, Da?” she cried. To which he made a gurgling, inarticulate reply. “If ye’ll leave us, Sir Kieran, I fear my father’s overextended himself... as usual.”
“Of course.” Kieran quit the room in a flash.
“Ye can stop the moaning and thrashing about now, ye old fraud,” Nesta said when the door closed. “Else ye really will pull loose my fine needlework.”
Duncan went limp. Lord, he was tired, but there was still so much to do. If only he could get up and see to things himself.
“Don’t even think on it.”
He opened one eye. “I wasn’t...exactly.” He stayed quiet while Nesta fussed with his pillows and fetched him a cup of wine...laced with a sleeping powder, if he knew his lass. And he did. “What’s troubling ye?”
“Ye laid up with more thread in ye than a fine lady’s wedding gown. Greedy thieves baying at our door, and he wants to know what’s wrong.” She threw up her hands.
Duncan wasn’t fooled. “’Tis Laurel.”
“Aye, well. ’Tis a heavy burden she’s shouldered.”
“And now I’ve taken steps to relieve her of it, only look how she’s acting,” he grumbled. “Ye’d think young Kieran was our enemy the way she’s set againt him.”
“To her, the fact he’s an outsider’s reason enough.”
“Curse Aulay Kerr.” Duncan drained the cup and grimaced. “He’s a year dead, though.”
“But not forgotten...at least by Laurel.”
“What she needs is another man to take her mind from the one what did her wrong.” His daughter made one of those infuriating female sounds. “What does that mean?”
“Only that I think ye’ve already found Aulay’s replacement.”
“What if I have?”
“They don’t seem to get on overly well.”
An understatement, that. And a pity, for it put a hitch in Duncan’s plans. “He’s a strong lad, not uncomely to look upon and he comes of good stock.” The best, as far as he was concerned.
“He’s estranged from his kin, which doesn’t speak well.”
“There’s usually more to such things than meets the eye,” Duncan said cryptically, knowing ‘twas true in this case. He was glad he hadn’t told anyone how he’d known where to find Kieran. Bitter as the lad was, ’twouldn’t do for him to learn his new employer had been secretly wooing his grandmother from afar.
“He seems a cold man. Not at all the sort to cherish our Laurel or appreciate her loving nature. When he isn’t glaring at her, he stomps around like a bee-stung bull.”
“So would I if a lass bested me as Laurel did him. But ’twill sort itself out,” Duncan murmured as he felt an herbal haze settle over him. He’d sleep a bit, then pen a message to Carina and send Thomas on his way with it.
“What of the coin Kieran expects to have of ye?”
Duncan groaned. ‘Twas what came of making the womenfolk privy to your business. They stuck their noses in where you least wanted them. Laurel was a prime example. Fancy capturing young Kieran so she could prove he wasn’t worthy of hiring. Duncan smiled. He’d have given much to witness that set-to. ’Twas clear Kieran had inherited his grandsire’s hot temper, but he’d also learned to control it, else he’d have taken the flat of his hand to Laurel, and likely gotten the edge of her knee in return.
Aye, they’d lead each other a merry chase. But he had hopes as to the outcome. “Young Kieran’ll get his due...eventually.”
“He wants half now. When he discovers ye don’t have the silver, he’ll ride away again.”
“I’ll just have to find something else to keep him here,” Duncan replied sleepily. He wasn’t worried. Men had gone to war over the kind of passion he’d seen brewing in Kieran Sutherland’s violet eyes when he looked at Laurel. Aye, he’d write to Carina and tell her things were shaping up better than they’d hoped.
Chapter Three
Still smarting from Kieran’s set-down and her grandfather’s orders to accompany the wretch on his inspection tour, Laurel sought refuge in the stables. There, in the back corner, Freda had decided to birth her five pups. Half wolf, half hound, they were the one bright spot in a sea of misery. At the moment, they slept peacefully, bellies bloated with the milk that still clung to their muzzles. Their mother lay nearby, her head on her paws.
“Taking a rest from your duties, lass.” Laurel reached down to scratch Freda’s ears. Yellow eyes narrowed to blissful slits and the thick tail thumped in appreciation. “’Tis been a long two weeks for me, too.” She sat in the straw, groaning as she stretched her legs out before her and leaned her head against the rough stone wall. “And not likely to get easier anytime soon.”
Freda laid her muzzle on Laurel’s