LITMIR.BIZ

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Connor predicted no outbreak of hostilities...yet.’

      From the expressions on the faces of the two men who served him most closely, he could not tell if they were joyful or saddened by this news. He liked a good fight the same as any man. Yet, now that this clan and its welfare was his responsibility, and now that supplies, crops and food were ready, he could admit a quiet winter had its appeal. Well, he could admit it to himself.

      ‘What other news do you have for me, Padruig? How is training coming along? Has your son mastered swordplay yet?’

      A good way to change the direction of his friend’s talk was to bring up his son. Padruig doted on the boy, now almost a man, and his skills and talents. As he watched the man’s usually dour face brighten, he knew the conversation would turn and braced himself for the pain he brought on himself once more.

      And it did.

      It took Broc only minutes to utter about things to do and leave and return to his duties, as Athdar wished to do. With each passing moment and with every word Padruig spoke, another dagger plunged into his own heart. But Padruig was his friend, in addition to being the commander of the MacCallum warriors, and it was not long before he realised what he’d said and the price of it to Athdar’s heart and soul.

      ‘Did Broc tell you?’ he asked while kicking the dirt at his feet.

      ‘About the cattle?’

      ‘Nay, about your sister. Lady MacLerie,’ Padruig said.

      ‘Broc!’ he shouted as he walked towards the keep. Padruig grabbed his arm to stop him.

      ‘Jocelyn is on her way here. An outrider brought the message.’

      ‘Why is she coming here now?’ he said, tugging free and continuing to head for the keep...and some answers. He paused. ‘Send two men out to meet them.’

      ‘Dar.’ Padruig let out an exasperated breath.

      If Jocelyn was travelling, and Connor knew about it, she would be well provisioned and well guarded. Connor would never allow it any other way. So, his sister’s safety was not an issue. ‘Never mind.’

      Still, he needed to know more so he walked into the squat, stone keep and searched for his steward—the one who’d conveniently forgotten to tell him of the visit. When he found him, Broc stood in the corner in one of the storage rooms under the kitchens.

      ‘My sister?’ he called out, trying to gain the man’s attention.

      An unexpected visit could be because of a problem or not. His sister and her husband did journey here several times a year, sometimes to see him and sometimes as they travelled onwards to other places, so there was no way to know. Except for Broc, who had not answered him.

      ‘Broc!’ His shout echoed through the small chamber and caused the servants in the kitchen and corridor to stop and stare. Finally, his steward straightened and turned to face him.

      And that was also when a comely young woman stepped out from behind Broc’s shadow and made her way out of the chamber and past Athdar. Damn, but Broc moved quickly with the lasses. From the smile on her mouth and the blush in her cheeks, he knew Broc had another conquest.

      ‘Laird,’ she said quietly with a nod as she passed him.

      ‘Ailean.’

      Broc waited as she sauntered down the corridor before coming to meet him at the door of the chamber.

      ‘Another minute and you would have had her naked,’ Athdar said. ‘My God, man, you move quickly. You left the yard only minutes ago.’

      His steward had always been so—a man with more women than other men could handle. It had been like that through their younger years and showed no sign of diminishing now that they’d reached manhood and more. Broc shrugged and smiled, accepting his words as a compliment...which they were.

      ‘My sister is coming?’

      Broc pulled the door closed and walked with him back to the kitchens. ‘Aye. Her messenger said they are about a day’s ride from here and should be here by midday on the morrow.’

      ‘Is aught wrong? Did she say the reason for the visit?’

      ‘Nay, no word about why. Just that she travels with a small group and will stay about a week. I was just on my way to ready the large chamber for her and her women.’

      His keep was nothing like Connor’s with its many storeys and bedchambers and towers. There was one large chamber on the lower floor, off the main hall, that was used for guests along with four chambers on a second floor. And one small tower for the guards. The great hall and kitchens took up most of the lower floor, with a stable and chapel set apart from the rest. But it was clean and comfortable and it was his.

      A chill raced along his spine and he wondered if it was the weather or the visit that worried him more. ’Twas unlike his sister to visit without an invitation or arrangements being made in advance. With her many duties as Lady MacLerie and the Countess of Douran, she simply did not rush off across Scotland to visit him. He hoped the ill-at-ease feelings he had were not portents of something bad.

      He nodded as Broc went off to see to arrangements and then he went to the small chamber he used to keep his records and rolls. As they were not significant enough to warrant the use of a priest as clerk, Athdar kept his own records and was proud of that. Reviewing them now, he was confident his kith and kin would weather the coming winter well.

      The chill of foreboding built within him, even as he saw to his duties throughout the day.

      * * *

      By the next day, he’d convinced himself that he was getting up in years and would soon be complaining of the aches and pains of the elders in his clan. He laughed at himself as the call came from the gates announcing his sister’s arrival.

      But when he saw who accompanied Jocelyn into his yard, he knew the feelings had been a warning of things to come, for following his sister on her horse was the woman who confounded him the most—Isobel Ruriksdottir.

      * * *

      Excitement hummed inside her as the gate and the stone keep beyond it came into view. Isobel could not believe her plan was succeeding so well. Oh, there were no guarantees that her mother would support her in this or that Lady Jocelyn agreed that she was the perfect choice for a new wife for her brother. There were so many things that could yet go wrong.

      As they rode on through the gate, Isobel sat up a little straighter on her mount and glanced around the yard, hoping he was here waiting. Lady Jocelyn had sent him scant warning of their arrival and nothing of her reasons for visiting her brother.

      The lady did have a reason—a flimsy one, true—but it would make sense. The herbs that Athdar’s healer needed to replenish her own stores had not been included in the last supplies sent here. Those herbs and plant cuttings lay wrapped carefully in moist cloths in her own bag, just as Margriet had prepared and instructed. These would be needed before winter fell, so there was a need...other than hers.

      Their party drew to a stop and Isobel waited as she heard Athdar call out greetings to his sister. From her position behind and to the side of her mother’s horse, she could not see him or be seen, so she listened as he greeted the lady and helped her down. Several young men approached to help with the horses and one lifted her down to the ground. With his help, she also untied the bag from her saddle and took it with her. Her mother held out her hand and Isobel took it, walking with her to greet the laird appropriately.

      ‘Margriet!’ he called out as he saw her mother. ‘Isobel,’ he said as he met her gaze. ‘Welcome to my home.’

      Although her mother had visited before, this was her first time in his home. She followed as they walked into the keep, looking at everyone and everything. Jocelyn had grown up here until her marriage to Connor MacLerie—something caused by Athdar’s youthful antics, if she understood it correctly. She’d only heard bits of the story, but the results had turned out more happily than anyone at the time had

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