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Authors: The Highlander's Desire
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best to have gotten out of there. As hard as she tried to think of Lachann MacMillan as a troll, ’twas not possible.
“W ould you care to see the rest of the keep, Lachann?” Catrìona asked.
“No,” he replied. “I need to see where my men will be housed.”
“Of course,” Catrìona said.
“I’ll go with you.” Macauley pushed back from the table and made to accompany them.
“That will not be necessary, Cullen,” Catrìona said pleasantly. “Besides, my father is ready to retire. You know how he’s come to enjoy your assistance when he prepares for bed.”
’Twas a victory for Lachann, but it felt quite small after watching Catrìona and Macauley sitting close together all through the meal.
The MacMillan men rose from their seats and followed Catrìona and Lachann from the hall. Lachann did not bother to look back at Macauley. He could feel the bastard’s glare through his plaid.
They left the great hall and went through a passageway to a door that led to the back of the keep. They stepped outside into a wide bailey lined by trees.
“Did you see the barracks when you came through the castle gates?” Catrìona asked.
“We did,” Lachann replied. “Near the armory, adjacent to the smithy.”
The barracks were located at the edge of a wide courtyard, in view of the keep. As they approached the long stone building, Lachann noticed the blacksmith standing at the open door of the smithy with his arms folded across his chest. He was red-haired and slightly slack-jawed, but his eyes stayed on the MacMillan group as they passed.
Or mayhap ’twas Catrìona he watched. There was a dullness about his eyes, and Lachann wondered if the man would be able to fashion the weapons they were going to need. It seemed quite likely Lachann would have to bring in an armorer and a good gunsmith. He’d expected no less. But parts were always needed, and a good blacksmith was invaluable.
The smithy’s attention shifted when Anna walked past him, carrying a load of linens in the opposite direction of the barracks with the black and white cat following her.
“How long has the armory been dormant?” Lachann asked Catrìona.
“Oh,” she stopped to think. “It has been several years. Ten, at least.”
“And your blacksmith?” he asked. “Do you know if he ever fashioned swords for your father?”
Catrìona shook her head. “I don’t believe so. Mungo Ramsay is not the . . . well, he’s not exactly the cleverest of men.”
But he was large and strong, judging by his stance and the dense muscles in his arms. He watched Anna’s progress across the courtyard unabashedly.
“Does he know why I’m here?” Lachann would have thought the man would come over and make himself known to the future laird.
Catrìona shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
Lachann opened the door of the barracks and allowed Catrìona to step inside before him while the rest of the men waited outside. He lit a lamp near the door and looked at the row of beds that were ready for use.
“I hope it meets your men’s needs.”
“Aye. It appears more than adequate.”
“Good,” she said, though she appeared slightly put out. Mayhap because they’d not yet had a chance to be alone. Lachann could only hope that was so.
“You can let Graeme or Alex know if there is anything else you need,” she said.
Chapter 9
’T was past dark by the time Anna was able to leave the castle and go down to Janet’s cottage for Kyla. She found her friend reclining on the pallet where she’d left her, feeding her bairn. A bowl of savory broth sat discarded beside her.
“How is she?” Anna asked Janet.
“Weak. Tired. Afeared.”
The skin ’round Kyla’s eye had turned an ugly purple, and there was a large, lumpy bruise welling up around the gash on her lip. Anna wished she could take her to Spirit Isle and soak her in the healing waters there, but her friend was in no shape to travel across the straits to get there. Nor was it likely
“W ould you care to see the rest of the keep, Lachann?” Catrìona asked.
“No,” he replied. “I need to see where my men will be housed.”
“Of course,” Catrìona said.
“I’ll go with you.” Macauley pushed back from the table and made to accompany them.
“That will not be necessary, Cullen,” Catrìona said pleasantly. “Besides, my father is ready to retire. You know how he’s come to enjoy your assistance when he prepares for bed.”
’Twas a victory for Lachann, but it felt quite small after watching Catrìona and Macauley sitting close together all through the meal.
The MacMillan men rose from their seats and followed Catrìona and Lachann from the hall. Lachann did not bother to look back at Macauley. He could feel the bastard’s glare through his plaid.
They left the great hall and went through a passageway to a door that led to the back of the keep. They stepped outside into a wide bailey lined by trees.
“Did you see the barracks when you came through the castle gates?” Catrìona asked.
“We did,” Lachann replied. “Near the armory, adjacent to the smithy.”
The barracks were located at the edge of a wide courtyard, in view of the keep. As they approached the long stone building, Lachann noticed the blacksmith standing at the open door of the smithy with his arms folded across his chest. He was red-haired and slightly slack-jawed, but his eyes stayed on the MacMillan group as they passed.
Or mayhap ’twas Catrìona he watched. There was a dullness about his eyes, and Lachann wondered if the man would be able to fashion the weapons they were going to need. It seemed quite likely Lachann would have to bring in an armorer and a good gunsmith. He’d expected no less. But parts were always needed, and a good blacksmith was invaluable.
The smithy’s attention shifted when Anna walked past him, carrying a load of linens in the opposite direction of the barracks with the black and white cat following her.
“How long has the armory been dormant?” Lachann asked Catrìona.
“Oh,” she stopped to think. “It has been several years. Ten, at least.”
“And your blacksmith?” he asked. “Do you know if he ever fashioned swords for your father?”
Catrìona shook her head. “I don’t believe so. Mungo Ramsay is not the . . . well, he’s not exactly the cleverest of men.”
But he was large and strong, judging by his stance and the dense muscles in his arms. He watched Anna’s progress across the courtyard unabashedly.
“Does he know why I’m here?” Lachann would have thought the man would come over and make himself known to the future laird.
Catrìona shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
Lachann opened the door of the barracks and allowed Catrìona to step inside before him while the rest of the men waited outside. He lit a lamp near the door and looked at the row of beds that were ready for use.
“I hope it meets your men’s needs.”
“Aye. It appears more than adequate.”
“Good,” she said, though she appeared slightly put out. Mayhap because they’d not yet had a chance to be alone. Lachann could only hope that was so.
“You can let Graeme or Alex know if there is anything else you need,” she said.
Chapter 9
’T was past dark by the time Anna was able to leave the castle and go down to Janet’s cottage for Kyla. She found her friend reclining on the pallet where she’d left her, feeding her bairn. A bowl of savory broth sat discarded beside her.
“How is she?” Anna asked Janet.
“Weak. Tired. Afeared.”
The skin ’round Kyla’s eye had turned an ugly purple, and there was a large, lumpy bruise welling up around the gash on her lip. Anna wished she could take her to Spirit Isle and soak her in the healing waters there, but her friend was in no shape to travel across the straits to get there. Nor was it likely
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