LITMIR.BIZ

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again the day her grandfather had been wounded. Both times she’d needed the kind of physical strength few women possessed.

      “Grandda’s hired a mercenary,” she murmured as she stroked the broad head. “An outsider.” Picking up the tension in her mistress’s voice, Freda growled. “He isn’t like Aulay, but he is a threat.” If not to her clansmen, then to her sanity. Aye, Kieran was dangerous in ways Aulay had never been, even though her husband’s evil scheme had nearly cost the lives of her brother, her grandfather and herself.

      Kieran Sutherland unsettled her as no other man ever had. The way he’d looked at her in the storage hut had turned her knees to jelly, her insides to hot butter. The feel of his big hand on her skin had made it seem raw and a size too small. Mayhap Annie was right and she was sickening with something.

      “Laurel!” Annie tore into the stables, spied Laurel and hurtled toward her. “Come quick. He’s going to kill him.”

      Laurel jumped to her feet. “Is it the reivers?”

      “Nay. ’Tis Sir Kieran. He’s going to beat that lovely Welshman to death.” Annie grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the door. “Ye have to stop him.”

      “Who is this Welshman, and what did he do?”

      “Rhys...he broke some stupid rule.”

      “Ah.” Well Laurel remembered Ellis relating Kieran’s threat to punish one of his men. Not on her land, he didn’t. “Where?”

      “The tiltyard.”

      Laurel all but left Annie in her dust as she ran across the courtyard and through the inner gates. Just as she charged down the grassy slope toward the outer ward, an ominous crack split the air. ’Twas followed immediately by a gasp that Laurel first thought must have come from the victim, but as she rounded the corner of the wall, she saw the hard-packed earth of the training field was filled with people. MacLellans and mercenaries alike craned their necks to get a better view of the drama.

      “Let me pass.” Laurel elbowed her way through the throng to its rotten core. There, his hands braced above him on the pole that held the quintain, stood a dark-haired man, naked to the waist. A long red line marred his muscular back.

      “Get it over quickly,” the man rasped. Even as he spoke, he tensed, and the leather lash licked out again.

      The stranger bucked beneath its kiss. The crowd moaned.

      Laurel gasped in outrage, then advanced before the fiend could strike again. “Cease,” she cried, drawing everyone’s gaze. She ignored all eyes save the violet ones that narrowed at her approach. “Cease at once. We don’t hold with whippings here.”

      “’Tis obvious the lash was spared too often in your case, mistress,” Kieran snapped. “But this man is mine to puni—”

      “Nay. He is my grandfather’s man now,” Laurel countered on a wave of anger and inspiration. “And I’d see Grandda’s goods don’t suffer for your vile treatment.”

      “’Tis all right, m’lady. I disobeyed an order and deserve to pay the price,” the victim said. Poor man.

      “No doubt you’re used to being ill-used by this monster.” Laurel placed herself between victim and tormentor. “But I will not let you suffer so whilst you’re here.”

      “Stand aside,” Kieran bellowed, and closed the gap between them till he towered over her. His knuckles stood out white where he gripped the handle of the whip; his face was red with rage.

      Sweet Mary, he was a fearsome sight. Laurel crossed her arms over her chest lest he see her heart thudding against her ribs. “Nay,” she replied with more courage than she truly felt.

      “Bloody hell, woman. Do you know what you risk?”

      “Leave my sister alone!” cried a shrill voice. Malcolm tore through the crowd, threw himself in front of Laurel and spread his arms wide, as though the puny things could keep her from being harmed by the huge, glowering knight.

      Laurel’s own fear was forgotten in a rush of concern. Malcolm was fierce for one so young, a wee warrior raised among peacemakers, surely a throwback to the crusader knight who’d settled this valley long ago. But he’d be no match for Kieran. “Collie, I can manage.” She tried to step around her brother.

      “Nay. Though Grandda won’t let me ride out with the men, I’m laird here in his stead. I’ll handle this,” he added, his pale blue eyes incongruously adult in a sea of cinnamon-colored freckles. She felt him tremble as he squared his shoulders and returned his attention to Kieran, but his voice was strong as he commanded, “Ye’ll leave my sister be and cease beating yon man.”

      “And who might you be, lad?” Kieran demanded.

      Malcolm flinched but stood his ground. “I am Malcolm MacLellan, heir to these lands and laird of them in my grandda’s stead,” he repeated.

      “Are you now?” Kieran raked Malcolm’s slight frame from spindly legs to the shock of red hair. Laurel held her breath, recalling the derision with which Aulay had treated her brother. Kieran didn’t mock, he tipped his head respectfully. “I am Kieran Sutherland, hired by your grandsire to eliminate the reivers.”

      “Really?” Collie’s eyes rounded. “Can I come with ye?”

      “Collie!” Laurel exclaimed. “You’ll do no such thing.”

      “I’m not allowed to handle a sword,” Collie said, adoring gaze fastened on Kieran. “But I’m handy with a bow and arrow.”

      Kieran’s black brows rose. “But you must be seven or eight. I was a page and proficient with sword and lance by that age. Why have you not seen him properly trained?” He transferred his glacial gaze to Laurel.

      “His rearing is none of your concern,” Laurel said.

      “And the disciplining of my men is none of your concern. I suggest you stick to your needlework.”

      “Only if I can stitch your lips shut.”

      A gasp swept through the crowd; Kieran turned red.

      Rhys laughed. “Mayhap ye’d best finish this later...after my guardian angel has departed.”

      “’is not a laughing matter, Rhys,” Kieran snapped.

      “Nay, but ‘tis a pity to quarrel with the lovely granddaughter of our employer.” Rhys smiled. “My thanks for yer concern, lady, m’lord.” He bowed to her brother.

      Collie cocked his head. “Did it hurt?”

      “Mostly my pride.” Rhys flashed another smile. “But ’twas well deserved for I was wrong to disobey my leader’s orders.”

      Collie looked from Rhys to Kieran, and Laurel could hear the wheels turning in his head. “When I disobey, they take away my horse and make me stay inside and practice my letters.”

      “Reading,” Kieran sneered. “Your time would be better spent learning to defend the lands you’ll one day rule.”

      “Will ye teach me?” Collie asked, eyes wide and adoring.

      “Mayhap. If I am here that long,” Kieran replied.

      Laurel’s heart leapt. She wanted Collie safe inside Edin, not dashing about in harm’s way. “You will not be,” she said. “Collie, fetch my medicine chest. Come within, Sir Rhys, and I’ll tend your wounds,” she added as her brother reluctantly left.

      “I will see to him,” Kieran grumbled.

      Goaded by her fears for Collie, Laurel snapped, “I wouldn’t trust Sir Rhys to your care.”

      “Think you I would harm my own friend?”

      “You’d have beaten him to death had I not come along.”

      “Five lashes never killed any

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