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  “I am Liam Maclean, second-born son,” the man said in greeting. “My father introduced me to yer other brothers before ye entered.”

  The man then looked toward the entrance from which Stuart had come, seeming to calculate why he’d arrived so much later.

  He blew out a breath. “How far is the local village?”

  “A bit over an hour’s ride.”

  A young maid appeared with a large tray. She walked to the head table, gaze downcast and placed a tankard in front of him.

  Stuart realized who it was. “Cait, did ye and yer mother make a good rabbit stew?”

  Cait’s gaze lifted, and her lips curved. “Aye, Mister Stuart. She asked that I thank ye for the second rabbit.”

  “Is a rabbit all it takes to spend time with ye?” Liam asked while leering at Cait, who’s eyes widened and cheeks turned a crimson red.

  She hastily placed the food down before them and dashed away.

  “That comment was unacceptable,” Stuart spoke in a low menacing tone. “Ye will not disrespect the women while in my home.”

  “’Tis but a mere maid,” Liam said with an eye roll. “No one of importance.”

  “I will not repeat myself.” Stuart took a long draw from his tankard, to keep from saying or doing something he’d regret.

  Across the room, Cait’s half brother, Torac, watched with interest. The warrior’s gaze moved from the high board to his sister.

  Just then Darach spoke to the laird in a louder tone, so that everyone could hear. “I insist that ye and yer men remain for the night. It will soon be too late to return across the sea to yer home.”

  “I accept on behalf of myself, my son, and my men,” the Maclean replied. “As a matter of fact, I beg of yer hospitality for two or three more days. I have many things to discuss with ye.”

  Blank of expression, Darach nodded his agreement.

  It was much later that the lairds adjourned to Darach’s study. Stuart, Liam, and Duncan were asked to join them. Gideon, the youngest, as well as Artair would remain in the great hall to ensure order between their guards and the Maclean’s, who seemed to take an instant dislike of each other.

  Once in the study, the men were poured whiskey and they settled into comfortable chairs.

  The Maclean inventoried the room, not bothering to hide his curiosity. “I met yer father only the one time he came to visit me. I never felt the need to cross the water to come here. I find sea travel most discomfiting.”

  Despite the fact he’d not been aware their father had ever visited a man so disliked by all the surrounding lairds, Darach managed to hide his surprise.

  “Not everyone is fond of water travel,” Darach said with an accommodating tone. “We venture out a great deal by bìrlinn. I do not mind it.”

  “Let us get to the reason for my visit,” Laird Maclean said suddenly. A tactic to throw off whoever he spoke to, by abruptly changing the subject. “All of the traitors must be returned to me immediately to be punished. I will accept nothing less.”

  Darach sipped his whiskey slowly with his gaze averted and remained silent. A trait that often discomfited whomever he opposed. It was humorous when the Maclean and Liam exchanged confused looks as the long stretch of silence continued.

  Use to Darach’s processing of information, Stuart downed his drink and rose to pour another. “I do believe the weather should be favorable to traveling for the next few days,” he said to the Maclean. “However, I agree with ye. I too prefer to travel by land rather than water.”

  The Maclean didn’t reply. Instead, he looked at Darach, who looked to Stuart, glass still in hand.

  “What…” the Maclean began, but stopped talking when Darach gave him a pointed look.

  His brother let out a breath. “No.”

  Once again, the Maclean and Liam exchanged puzzled looks.

  It was Liam who spoke next. “What do ye mean no? It is not a request Laird Ross. My father has rights over those men.”

  “Does he?” Darach asked with a flat tone. One that Stuart knew meant his brother thoroughly disliked the men he spoke to.

  Darach looked to Stuart. “What do we know about the men?”

  “They came asking for asylum from ye. Stated that they had fled for their lives. We know nothing more. Winter meant they were contained to a certain place and most of them have stayed there since.”

  “Most?” Liam asked, his expression incredulous.

  “Half of the men have since left.”

  The Maclean’s eyes rounded. “Ye allowed half of them to escape?”

  “They are not our prisoners,” Stuart replied. “They may come and go as they please.”

  Liam jumped to his feet. “Those men are traitors to my father; they must face the consequences of their disobedience.”

  Suddenly the Maclean’s countenance changed, and he gave them an appeasing look. “Be calm son. Let us not start off by arguing.”

  “What other subject do ye propose we speak of then?” Darach asked.

  “I would like to get to know ye better,” the Maclean said, meeting Darach’s gaze. “As a new laird, I am sure ye have much to learn. Perhaps I can provide guidance while here. For now, I will not press the issue of the men, ye hold.”

  Every word the man uttered grated. Stuart met Darach’s eyes and understood his brother was on the brink of losing control.

  “Why don’t we proceed to the courtyard. I will show ye the new guard training areas,” Stuart said motioning to the door.

  As he walked out with the Maclean’s, he noted that Duncan moved closer to a very furious Laird Ross.

  Chapter Two

  Cait’s heart pounded so hard, she thought it would burst out of her chest. She leaned on a wall just outside the kitchen, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

  “Whatever is the matter with ye child?” Greer, the cook, asked giving her a questioning look. “There is much to do for ye to give into fret.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cait replied lifting her apron to wipe her face. “It’s just that one of the men visiting said something upsetting, that is all.”

  Greer shook her head and motioned for Cait to follow her. “Men are horrible creatures at times.” The cook hurried to where her daughter ladled out hot figs mixed with honey into pastry shells. “Do not be so sloppy, Finella.”

  Cait lifted two pitchers and prepared to go back out. She said a silent prayer no one would bother her. But each time there were visitors, someone always seemed to take notice of her and do or say something untoward.

  The men who worked at the keep knew her half brother, Torac, a warrior for the laird. Not wishing a confrontation with the muscled warrior, meant most of the Ross men let her be. However, visitors were another story.

  As she refilled the tankards of the Maclean men at the long tables, several pretended to stretch or lift their hands, touching her arm or backside. Cait was adept at avoiding most of them, over time maids became prolific at sensing where to stand and how to turn to stay out of reach.

  When she walked past where her brother stood, Torac took her by the arm. “Ye should do yer best to remain in the kitchen. Ask Greer to give ye other tasks.”

  “I cannot,” Cait replied. “I have only been working here a few weeks. I do not want to be any trouble.”

  He glared in the direction of the visitors and nodded understanding. Cait went about her duties feeling better at knowing her half brother watched over her.

  Just six weeks earlier, she, her mother, and her young brother had traveled from the southern portion of the isle to seek help from Torac. Her mother was ill and Cait needed work in order to support them.

  Her father had been married to Torac’s mother. It wasn’t until he’d not returned for a long time that they’d discovered the truth from a traveling peddler. Not only about a second family, but that her father had died.

  Thankfully Torac had been kind enough to petition the laird for work for Cait. The laird had also been overly generous and allo
wed them to move into an empty cottage on the lands. The walk back and forth from the keep was quite long, but most days Cait didn’t mind it. As tired as she was at the end of the day, she looked forward to returning home rather than sleeping in the maid’s quarters.

  Before arriving at Ross lands, her mother had spent most days inside, and her younger brother—who was four and ten—did his best to look after her. For months her mother had languished in bed, seeming to have no will to continue in day-to-day life. However, since they’d arrived there six weeks ago, her mother seemed to regain a bit of strength every day.

  Cait’s was not an easy life, but neither was it horrible.

  After the meal and cleaning of the great hall, Cait joined the line of servants awaiting Greer’s instructions. She stood between Finella and another new kitchen maid, Cora. In the short time they’d worked together, the three of them had become good friends.

  “With so many to feed and see after, we will have a lot of work for the next few days,” Greer informed them.

  The woman’s bright eyes told that she didn’t mind one bit.

  “Ye love it when we have visitors,” Finella said with a roll of her eyes. “I do not understand ye mum.”

  “It is our calling to see after the laird’s family and their visitors. Why should we not be glad?” Greer replied and then spoke to Cait. “Unfortunately, ye will have to remain here tonight and possibly tomorrow as well.”

  Cait’s mind immediately went to home. There wasn’t any way she could send word. Her mother would fret, but she also knew at times Cait had to work long hours. Hopefully, she wouldn’t worry overmuch.

  Greer continued, “The visiting Maclean men will be housed with our guards, which means ye should be able to stay away from them.”

  When duties were given, Cait and Cora were assigned the great hall. Her heart sank at realizing she’d have to face the dreadful man who’d come with the Maclean, again.

  “I prefer serving,” Cora said and held up a bandaged arm. “Burns hurt.”

  Once the meal and preparation assignments were given, Cait hurried outside to the garden to fetch turnips that would accompany the roasted lamb.

  Just as she walked out, she noted that a man paced beside the garden gate. It was Stuart Ross and he seemed to be deep in thought. Cait tried to figure out how she could get around him and into the garden without bothering him.

  As if sensing her, he looked up.

  “I must go into the garden,” she said pointing to the gate.

  He frowned for a moment, as if not quite understanding. Then upon noting he blocked her progress, opened the gate, and motioned for Cait to enter.

  To her shock, he followed. “I spoke to Liam Maclean and made it clear we do not tolerate that kind of behavior. He will not bother ye again.”

  Her breath stopped and she could barely swallow. “Ye spoke to him for me? Ye should not have bothered. It is most… kind. Thank ye, Mister Stuart.”

  When his lips curved, she couldn’t look away. Stuart Ross was incredibly handsome, with shoulder-length dark wavy hair, long lashes, and the familiar Ross hazel eyes.

  “Ye do not have to thank me.” He looked to the garden. “What are ye going to serve me to eat?”

  The question was asked as if she were to cook for him. The intimate way he phrased it made her face heat immediately. “Turnips. Greer is making roasted lamb with turnips.”

  He made a face. “I do not care for turnips. But do not dare tell Greer.” He walked out of the garden, carefully closing the small gate behind him.

  Cait stood rooted to the spot her gaze glued to his retreating back.

  The interaction had been quite strange. Had he been waiting to speak to her? Why would a man of his standing take time to come and inform her of a conversation he’d had with someone of the same? Although she was new to life in the keep, Cait knew enough to realize this was most unusual.

  She looked to the window and met Greer’s gaze and for a moment Cait froze, unsure what to do. It was hard to decipher Greer’s look. Hopefully, it didn’t mean she’d be scolded for conversing with the laird’s brother.

  This was most troubling. All she wanted to do was work, earn a wage, and take care of her family. It would be best to try to avoid any contact with men at the keep from now on, other than her brother.

  Deep in thought, she lowered to her knees and dug up the turnips along with one large potato.

  When she entered the kitchen with the items in her apron, Greer motioned to the table and tapped Finella’s shoulder. “Be a dear, peel and cut them into evenly sized pieces.”

  Greer’s alert gaze met Cait’s. “Was there a problem with Mister Stuart?”

  Cait shook her head. “He asked if he could have something other than turnips.”

  Greer chuckled. “He thinks I do not know he dislikes them. I had hoped he would learn to.”

  Relieved when Greer did not ask anything more, Cait hurried about her tasks managing to avoid most of the people in the keep until finished.

  At least meal, she and Cora served those in the great room. Along with the guests, there were only a few others present. And though it was none of her concern—since what happened between the lairds had little to do with the servants—the air in the room was subdued.

  She did her best to keep her distance from the men at the high board, which worked well. Keeping her gaze downcast also helped to keep from seeing the unlikable visitor and avoiding Stuart Ross as well.

  When she went to the table where the ladies of the household sat, the laird’s wife, Isobel, touched Cait’s lower arm. “Are ye unwell? Ye seem nervous.”

  Cait adored the laird’s wife. Since arriving, Isobel had always made her feel welcome and often asked about her mother and brother. “I am well Lady Ross. Thank ye for asking.”

  The laird’s mother, Lady Mariel, gave her a quizzical look. “Where do ye live Cait?”

  Knowing she’d be in trouble for lingering while Cora had to continue serving, Cait let out a soft sigh. “In a cottage that yer son, my laird, was gracious enough to allow my mother, younger brother, and me to live in. It is near a creek. We are very grateful for it.”

  “I am glad to know.” Seeming to understand she had to continue with her duties, the woman smiled and returned her attention to the other women at the table.

  Cait hurried back to the kitchen where Greer immediately handed her a tray laden with sweet cakes.

  The meal lasted longer than usual. It seemed the visiting laird and his son enjoyed late evenings and partaking of what was offered. Her feet ached as once again she refilled the empty cups of the men who lingered. Most of the room was empty except for the Maclean, his son, Darach, Stuart, and Duncan. The few others that remained were the usual sentries and the laird’s personal guards.

  Not wishing to look at the visiting laird’s son, Cait kept her gaze downcast, though she could feel his gaze on her. Once when she’d dare to look from under her lashes, her suspicions were confirmed, he was tracking her every move.

  “The potato was delicious,” Stuart said, startling her so that the liquid she poured sloshed over the edge of his cup and onto the tabletop.

  “I-I . . .” She grabbed a cloth from a pocket on her apron to clean the spill. “I am glad.” Cait dared to look up for a scant second to meet his gaze and instantly her face heated at his regard.

  “Ye scared the poor lass.” She heard his brother, Duncan, say to Stuart as she moved away.

  In the kitchen, Greer sat at the table fanning her face with a cloth but had a bright smile at seeing Cait’s empty tray.

  “Ye can tell a great deal about a person by the way they treat their hosts,” the cook said shaking her head.

  “What do ye mean?” Cait asked, lowering to a chair across from the woman.

  “If they have little concern for their guest’s nightly routines and need for rest, then they are not kind people.”

  Cait drank lukewarm cider and hungrily gobbled some leftover brea
d upon which she placed a thin slice of cold meat. “I agree,” she replied between bites.

  Cora entered looking entirely limp, her face drawn with exhaustion. “I am so tired,” she complained, but upon seeing the tray of leftovers that Greer had set out for them, she slumped into a chair. “They are finally going to their bedchambers.”

  “We will wait a bit and then clean up. It won’t be too long,” Greer said attempting to make light of the hard work ahead.

  “Lads,” she called out to the two sleeping boys who were to help with cleaning. “Go fetch the dirty dishes.”

  The boys sat up yawned and stretched but didn’t move. One of them, who looked to be about two and ten frowned. “Is it morning?”

  Greer chuckled. “It will be soon. So go on and hurry. Get yer job done so ye can get more sleep before I wake ye for morning duties.”

  Moments later, Cait and Cora trudged to the great room to complete the tasks of the night. Greer was right, morning would come much too soon.

  In the study, Darach was livid. His nostrils flared as he looked to Stuart and Duncan. “An entire day of nothing but revelry and drink. The man has not yet explained what he expects now that I’ve said I won’t turn the men over to him.”

  “I do not believe he has any plan, nor does he care really about the men who came seeking asylum. He is here and behaving in such a manner because he believes we owe him an apology,” Stuart explained.

  “I will do no such thing,” Darach roared, living up to his moniker of being called: The Lion.

  There was something else, but Stuart couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Laird Maclean was old and didn’t seem to have a clear reason for staying longer. However, there was a reason, and he would find out what it was.

  Apparently, Duncan thought along the same lines. “Perhaps he has something very important to impart or to ask ye and is waiting for the right time”

  Stuart nodded in agreement. “What if we hold an archery competition? The laird announced they would remain for an additional two days. Since we cannot spend the entire time waiting for him to tell us the true reason for the visit. Perhaps if we distract them, he or his son will talk.