“Oh dear Jesus,” Duncan breathed. “It’s him. The wolf in me dreams.”
The gray paused, turned, paced the far perimeter, its teeth bared, tongue flicking madly over its grin. Patches of fur were now missing, its sides heaving beneath skeletal ribs.
Conall felt fear in his core.
“Ah,” Lana sighed sadly. “I wondered…”
Before Conall could stop her, Lana rose to her feet and approached the fire to stand boldly before the menacing monster, now whining and snarling in crazed yips. Drool cascaded from pointed, yellowed teeth.
“Mam,” Conall said evenly. “Doona so much as move.”
“Doona the pair ofyouso much as move,” Lana commanded, “if you doona wish to see your mother dead by this pitiful beast.”
Duncan started to draw his legs beneath him. “Mam, please—”
“Nae!” Lana snapped over her shoulder, never taking her eyes from the gray.
Duncan stilled and Conall watched with his brother.
The wolf shortened his pace, doing little more now than swaying side to side on its spindly, cankered forelegs. Its eyes were milky with age.
“Come for your due, have you?” Lana asked softly. “You’ll nae have it yet though, I vow. You remember me? Aye, you do. How could you forget?”
The gray crouched lower, its sparse, matted hackles raising in a prickly fan. Its snarl was little more than a primitive squeal.
“Mam,” Conall said, begging through his rapidly closing throat.
“Please, Mam,” Duncan added.
“Hush, now!” Lana gasped and Conall could see the rapid rise and fall of her bosom. She was frightened, but trying not to show it. “You’ll have to wait,” she said in a warning tone to the wolf. “Soon. But nae now. Nae here.”
The wolf edged closer, staggering, and Conall knew it would spring at any moment.
Lana drew a deep breath, pointed her finger at the beast. “Stay your ground.Tell your mistress that I have kept my promise. Her son is safe.”
Chapter Twenty
Young, bullish Andrew Buchanan had plucked Evelyn from the mountain like some Scots archangel and carried her the whole of the way into town. He never winded, whistling in time with each jarring step. Through streets lined with large, fine longhouses, and stores and stables and places of business, their thatched roofs home to a rainbow of wild summer blooms, Evelyn rode in Andrew’s arms. Bonnie skipped along behind them with an affronted Robert; Sebastian swooped protectively overhead. Even wee Whiskers had poked his slim nose from the pocket of Evelyn’s kirtle to take in the wondrous sight of the fair town.
And the sight of the entourage was being taken in by others, as well. Curious townsfolk ceased in their chores and emerged from dwellings as if summoned to follow the parade. Children ran alongside Andrew, calling to him and Evelyn in excited Gaelic, plucking at the hem of her gown, gesturing to each other and the animals.
As they neared the interior edge of the town, but a stone’s throw from the loch itself, Evelyn could see the the beginnings of a stone fortress being constructed, oddly enough, on a smallish, cleared island some distance from shore. An uneven base rose up mayhap three times the height of a man and was crisscrossed with a hive of scaffolding. Workers swarmed the project in the reddened afternoon light and the loch was alive with wide, shallow boats and rafts, ferrying supplies from shore.
“Our new keep,” Andrew said with a broad, proud grin and inclined his head toward the loch. His blue eyes sparkled. “Do you fancy it, missus? Angus would have naught else since visiting his granddaughter in England.”
“’Tis grand,” Evelyn assured him faintly, glancing nervously at the smiling faces now crowding around them. She felt as though she was caught up in some strange dream, being carried through the vibrant town like royalty.
Andrew laughed—the man seemed to bracket everything he said with mirth. “O’ course you have seen grander, but ’twill serve its purpose. A champion of Scotland will find shelter there one day, missus, ’tis foretold.”
Evelyn could only smile weakly. She thought she might be ill if Andrew did not cease swinging her about so.
The Scot shouted to the crowd in Gaelic and a path opened for them. A score more jostling steps and Andrew was setting Evelyn on her feet before the open door of the largest longhouse, steadying her when she swayed on tingling legs.
“All right, then?” he asked her.
Evelyn nodded.
“Off you go.” He swept a long arm toward the darkened interior of the cottage.
