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Authors: Gwyn Cready
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obviously the chieftess.”
“The clan overruled him. Halfway through the year away, Abby survived an attack. There were some among the clan who thought Lachlan had sent the man to kill his own daughter. I suppose the truth will never be known. But that was enough to turn the tide in her favor. Lachlan saw his last great effort thwarted by his own men. He was furious. He used his last shreds of power to negotiate a compromise between Rosston’s sept and his men. Abby has their support, but the alliance has not been an easy one.”
Duncan could imagine. With Rosston looking over her shoulder, ready to take over at a moment’s notice? He wouldn’t want to be in her boots.
“One more thing,” Duncan said. “You mentioned Lady Kerr was Lachlan’s only surviving heir. I take it she had brothers?”
“Oh, aye. Two. One younger. He survived only a day or two after birth. And her older brother, Bran. Bran was six years older and the apple of his father’s eye. Handsome, brave, a true warrior. He was killed in battle when Abby was fifteen. You’re wearing his sword.”
Duncan winced. No wonder Abby had been so upset.
“I must excuse myself,” Jock said. “Lady Kerr and I are meeting before dawn on this. She never gives up, I’ll give her that.”
Each man bowed, and when Jock was out of earshot, Duncan said to Nab, “What a tough position to be in.”
Grendel, who still lay curled at Abby’s door, let out a long, canine sigh.
“You know what?” Duncan said. “Let’s take the dog for a run, shall we? We can do that much for her.”
Nab whistled for Grendel and headed for the stairs. Duncan left his candle on a table to light his way on his return, but what he heard when he passed Abby’s door brought him to a dead stop.
Nab was halfway down the stairs when he noticed Duncan wasn’t behind him. “What is it?”
Duncan pointed to the door and whispered, “She’s crying.”
Nab rolled his eyes. “What about the walk?”
Duncan shrugged, helpless. “I’m sorry.”
“C’mon, Grendel,” Nab said. “We don’t need anybody else to have fun.”
“Stay within sight of the castle now,” Duncan called.
Nab, who was already running through the entry hall, laughed. “Jock might be afraid of the wolves, but I’m not.”
Duncan hesitated before knocking. The sobs were quiet but steady.
“Lady Kerr?”
“Not now.” It was a plea, not an order.
“Lady Kerr, please.”
She didn’t respond, but he heard steps and, after a long moment, the door opened. Her eyes were as red as cherries, but it was clear in the moment before answering, she’d wiped her face dry and was determined to keep further tears at bay. She gave him no greeting and shut the door quickly once he’d entered.
The space was much more than a bedroom. It was an apartment of sorts, three times the size of the room she’d put him in. The main space, covered in thick wool rugs, held shelves of books, a settee and chairs in front of a hearth, and a large desk scattered with ledgers and papers. To the side, in a wing off the room, was a four-poster bed draped in plum satin, and a large wardrobe. On either side of the bed were doors, which led, Duncan assumed, to a bathing area.
“You cannot stay long,” she said, wiping her nose with a handkerchief. “I have a reputation to uphold, and my clerk is not here.”
“I won’t. No one saw me enter, in any case.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
She looked so unhappy. “I am sorry, Lady Kerr.”
“For what? You had nothing to do with these tears.”
“But I am sorry for them, nonetheless. More important, though, I am sorry for this.” He pulled the sword from his sheath and laid it on her desk.
She closed her eyes. “Who told you?”
“Your steward. I’m sorry for your loss, and I’m deeply sorry for taking the sword without your permission and reminding you of it.”
A fresh tear striped her cheek, but she gave him a wan smile. “If you were hoping to keep me from
“The clan overruled him. Halfway through the year away, Abby survived an attack. There were some among the clan who thought Lachlan had sent the man to kill his own daughter. I suppose the truth will never be known. But that was enough to turn the tide in her favor. Lachlan saw his last great effort thwarted by his own men. He was furious. He used his last shreds of power to negotiate a compromise between Rosston’s sept and his men. Abby has their support, but the alliance has not been an easy one.”
Duncan could imagine. With Rosston looking over her shoulder, ready to take over at a moment’s notice? He wouldn’t want to be in her boots.
“One more thing,” Duncan said. “You mentioned Lady Kerr was Lachlan’s only surviving heir. I take it she had brothers?”
“Oh, aye. Two. One younger. He survived only a day or two after birth. And her older brother, Bran. Bran was six years older and the apple of his father’s eye. Handsome, brave, a true warrior. He was killed in battle when Abby was fifteen. You’re wearing his sword.”
Duncan winced. No wonder Abby had been so upset.
“I must excuse myself,” Jock said. “Lady Kerr and I are meeting before dawn on this. She never gives up, I’ll give her that.”
Each man bowed, and when Jock was out of earshot, Duncan said to Nab, “What a tough position to be in.”
Grendel, who still lay curled at Abby’s door, let out a long, canine sigh.
“You know what?” Duncan said. “Let’s take the dog for a run, shall we? We can do that much for her.”
Nab whistled for Grendel and headed for the stairs. Duncan left his candle on a table to light his way on his return, but what he heard when he passed Abby’s door brought him to a dead stop.
Nab was halfway down the stairs when he noticed Duncan wasn’t behind him. “What is it?”
Duncan pointed to the door and whispered, “She’s crying.”
Nab rolled his eyes. “What about the walk?”
Duncan shrugged, helpless. “I’m sorry.”
“C’mon, Grendel,” Nab said. “We don’t need anybody else to have fun.”
“Stay within sight of the castle now,” Duncan called.
Nab, who was already running through the entry hall, laughed. “Jock might be afraid of the wolves, but I’m not.”
Duncan hesitated before knocking. The sobs were quiet but steady.
“Lady Kerr?”
“Not now.” It was a plea, not an order.
“Lady Kerr, please.”
She didn’t respond, but he heard steps and, after a long moment, the door opened. Her eyes were as red as cherries, but it was clear in the moment before answering, she’d wiped her face dry and was determined to keep further tears at bay. She gave him no greeting and shut the door quickly once he’d entered.
The space was much more than a bedroom. It was an apartment of sorts, three times the size of the room she’d put him in. The main space, covered in thick wool rugs, held shelves of books, a settee and chairs in front of a hearth, and a large desk scattered with ledgers and papers. To the side, in a wing off the room, was a four-poster bed draped in plum satin, and a large wardrobe. On either side of the bed were doors, which led, Duncan assumed, to a bathing area.
“You cannot stay long,” she said, wiping her nose with a handkerchief. “I have a reputation to uphold, and my clerk is not here.”
“I won’t. No one saw me enter, in any case.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
She looked so unhappy. “I am sorry, Lady Kerr.”
“For what? You had nothing to do with these tears.”
“But I am sorry for them, nonetheless. More important, though, I am sorry for this.” He pulled the sword from his sheath and laid it on her desk.
She closed her eyes. “Who told you?”
“Your steward. I’m sorry for your loss, and I’m deeply sorry for taking the sword without your permission and reminding you of it.”
A fresh tear striped her cheek, but she gave him a wan smile. “If you were hoping to keep me from
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