Read Online Taming a Wild Scot: A Claimed by the Highlander Novel by Rowan Keats - Free Book Online Page B

appeared to be soup. His gaze flew up to meet Niall’s. Tears filled his eyes.
    Niall searched for the appropriate response and came up dry. Good thing he hadn’t mentioned he’d actually slain three men, not one.
    With a low keen of despair, the lad wrapped his arms around his belly and ran off.
    Leod did a rather poor job of stifling a laugh. “That went well.”
    Niall used a piece of kindling to tap the muck off his boots. Communicating with Hugh had been effortless. He’d been a babbling brook of tales, willing to share even the smallest of adventures. Every encounter with Jamie, on the other hand, was a disaster. He never knew what to say to the boy.
    Ivarr and Cormac joined him, both smirking.
    “I think it’s an improvement on your usual scent,” Cormac said, sniffing the air. Attired entirely in green and brown, his pale ashwood bow slung over his back, he looked every bit the woodsman.
    “And those boots were in sad want of a good polish,” Ivarr added. As usual, the big warrior had pinned his multihued woolen brat across his chest and under his right arm to allow freer movement of his sword arm.
    “Do not make sport at the lad’s expense,” Niall chided quietly. “Best we ignore what happened and allow him to recoup his pride.”
    The smiles faded, and they nodded agreeably. Ivarr pointed to the blood spatters on Niall’s clothing. “So? Care to share the tale?”
    “Ambushed by thieves,” Niall said, shrugging. He studied the faces of his men as he spoke. Cormac, lean and blue-eyed. Ivarr, square-jawed and quick to smile. Leod, thin and a tad pale. It was a bitter struggle to imagine any of them betraying him. They’d been brothers-in-arms for more than ten years. Defended one another in battle. Bound one another’s wounds. Shared food and whisky and a private thought or two. “Five scurrilous rats intent on stealing my purse.”
    Ivarr’s brows soared. “And you killed only one?”
    “Three.”
    A wry smile rose to Cormac’s lips. “Wretch. Here we are, playing nursemaid to the lad, and you’re off having a grand old time.”
    “Shall we take to the woods and rout out the vermin?” asked Leod. “Cormac and Ivarr found evidence of a camp to the northwest.”
    Niall nodded. “Approach them, but do not slay them. Watching the trails as closely as they do, they’re sure to have marked the comings and goings of all. I would learn what strangers have passed through the village in recent months. One of them surely brought the necklace.”
    A deep frown furrowed Cormac’s brow. “You want us to
spare
them?”
    “Information is more valuable than a dead body.”
    “And we accept the word of thieves and murderers now, do we?”
    Niall’s gaze collided with the archer’s. “I’ll bend an ear to any who can deliver me vengeance. Thieves, murderers, traitors—it matters not. I care nothing but for the information they supply.”
    “And if they lie? We’ll be chasing our bloody tails.”
    “Thieves are loyal only to coin. Offer them a purse.”
    A growl rose in Cormac’s chest, and his hands fisted at his sides. “Give them the very thing they sought to gain by attacking you? Nay, I’ll not do it.”
    The archer had always been fierce and full of anger. But was his insistence on slaying these thieves motivated by more than a need to defend a fellow warrior? A desire to cover his tracks, perhaps? “You’ll do as I say.”
    The words were delivered quietly, but with the bite of steel. Niall did not stomach revolt, even from longtime friends.
    Cormac dropped his gaze to his boots, his long dark hair swinging forward to hide his face. “Aye.” His humble mien lasted no more than a heartbeat, though. He lifted his gaze to Niall’s, a wry grin on his face. “But I’ll not enjoy it.”
    “Fair enough.”
    “We’ve a pot of bawd bree on the fire,” Ivarr said into the silence that followed. “If you care to sup.”
    Niall shook his head. “I’ll be laying my pallet in the