Duncan paused, and it seemed as though the crowd held its breath.
“There they were,” Duncan whispered, and crouched down, as if back in that moment and afraid of spooking the animals. “Seven deer, standing in the middle of the street as if waitin’ on me company!” Duncan whipped around with his elbows cocked. “I took aim, so careful, and—whoosh!—the first one fell clean.”
Conall knew his mouth was hanging open, but he could not help it. “Sevendeer?” he repeated, glancing at the five carcasses.
“Glory, Conall!” Duncan rolled his eyes. “Aye, I missed on two. You’re never satisfied, are you?”
The crowd roared with laughter once again and Conall’s face heated.
“And the hares?” he prompted.
Duncan wrinkled his nose and rocked back on his heels, puffing out his chest. “Bah,” he scoffed. “Troublesome beasts. I canna go into the wood for a bit o’ privacy without trippin’ over a brace o’ em.”
The music started up again, a set of pipes played by an old codger in the corner, and several townsmen began to sing and stomp their feet in time.
“Her hair was long and her eyes were blu-uue! My highland lassie I loved so true!”
Conall’s mother laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Have you come back to stay, Conall?” she asked, her eyes filled with concern.
“Nae, Mam, I—” He paused. “Ah, there is aught that I must tend to for a bit. I—”
“Of course, of course. Do what you must,” she hurried to assure him, deepening Conall’s confusion. She tugged him toward the fire. “Come and eat, though.Eat!” She laughed, the sound itself as sweet as the music filling his house. “Duncan’s made a fine haggis!”
“’Tis a Buchanan woman, is it nae?” Duncan whispered near Conall’s shoulder as they sat side by side on the perimeter of the room, eating.
Conall nearly fumbled his bowl of ground meat and grain. “Would you shut your bleedin’ mouth? Christ, Dunc, did I nae know better, I’d think you’d have me mobbed.”
Duncan chuckled and picked at his meal. “If it means the food we now have, the folk wouldna care were you entertaining the devil himself. Glory, I canna eat another morsel.” He looked to Conall, then took a large bite of haggis. Duncan pointed at his brother with the spoon. “I’m right, though. I know it.”
Conall was torn. He’d promised Eve he’d not tell anyone of her presence, and he meant to keep his word. But what did it matter now that they were married? And ’twas his brother. And Conall hadn’ttoldDuncan anything, really—Duncan had guessed.
Conall cautioned himself to tread carefully. “Now why would you think that, brother?” He took a bite of his own haggis. Lana was right, Duncan had made a fine dish.
“The night before the deer came to us, I had a dream.”
Conall waited. “Of…?” he said around his food.
“A Buchanan woman, in a long, black cloak, at the hut in the vale.” Duncan’s gaze was without the haze of drink now, dark green and sparking. “She had a wolf at her side, and was round with child.”
Conall could not swallow the mouthful of food that seemed to swell against his teeth. Dispensing with manners, he leaned to the side and spat it on the floor.
“What?” Conall whispered, glancing around to be sure no one else had overheard. “Are you certain?”
“As certain as I am your brother,” Duncan replied. “Long hair, down to here.” Duncan held a flat palm below his hip. “A wolf at her side, and she weepin’, the poor lass.”
Conall set his bowl aside, his appetite vanished. Could his brother’s dream be a foretelling of events to come? The wolf by the woman’s side—it had to be Alinor.
The words of the damning curse came flooding back to him, teasing him:
Only heartache and toil shall you reap until a Buchanan bairn is born to rule the MacKerrick clan.
Could Eve be with child…now?
Conall felt the blood leave his face and his stomach war with the heavy food. “How do you know the woman in your dreams was Buchanan?” he asked Duncan cautiously. “Did she speak to you? Tell you her name?”
“Nae,” Duncan admitted. “She said nary a word, only looked toward our town and wept.”
Conall felt as though he’d been struck by lightning. His nerves sang and his breath singed his lungs with each wheeze.
