“Come inside. I’ll have a bath brought up for ye.” Siùsan served as the chatelaine, even though she didn’t carry the title of Lady Sinclair yet. With Liam still alive, Siùsan wouldn’t adopt the title until Callum became laird. But Liam’s beloved wife, Kyla, died while Callum, Alex, Tavish, Magnus Mòr, and Mairghread were still young. “Saoirse can show ye yer chamber. It isnae the one ye’re used to. Now that Blake and Cerys are married, we had to make some changes.”
“I look forward to meeting Cerys. Yer family tree is—complicated.” Magnus grinned as he looked at Mòr, then Brighde. Magnus Mòr and Deirdre’s son married Brighde’s half-niece the summer before. There was no blood relation, but there was a blood feud between the Sinclairs and the Kerrs because of Brighde’s marriage to Alex. From everyone’s expression, there’d been no resolution. He suspected a second marriage between the Kerrs and Sinclairs only antagonized the Kerrs more.
“Aye. Complicated.” Alex gestured toward the stairs while everyone else went their separate ways. “Saoirse, help your mama. I’ll show Óg the way.”
“Thank ye. I look forward to seeing Dedric. Are he and Lady Isabella here?” Dedric Hartley and his wife, Isabella, joined the Clan Sinclair twenty years ago. They’d left their lives near the border and moved to the Highlands to avoid the ever-ongoing conflict between Scotland and England.
“Aye.”
Óg expected little more from Alex, since he was the most reserved of the four Sinclair brothers. But Óg planned to do most of the talking, so Alex couldn’t admonish him for paying Saoirse attention.
“Where are Thormud and Tate? I look forward to seeing them in the lists tomorrow.” Thormud was Callum’s heir, and Tate was Tavish and Ceit’s older son. When Blake and Torquil, Mòr and Deirdre’s sons, joined the other two cousins, there was always trouble. Tor and Thor loved living up to their mythological namesake. Óg enjoyed watching the four boys when they were weans. They’d been lively since they were born. He’d been at Dunbeath for Thormud’s, Tate’s, and Blake’s births. He’d already returned home when Torquil was born. But he’d visited often enough to know the young men well.
“They’re in the lists. Ye’ll see them at the evening meal.”
“The laird looks well. How is he keeping?”
“Fitter than most of us.”
In his sixth decade, Liam could still be confused for his sons, especially Tavish, since they shared the same barrel-chested build. He continued to train daily and rode into battle last summer in France to aid Blake and Cerys.
“I’m as excited to see Siùsan as she is to see me. I miss ma sister despite how long we’ve lived apart.”
“Aye. It has been more than a score since ye left here a mon.”
Magnus nearly swallowed his tongue at that pointed comment. Fortunately, they reached the chamber on the third story, and they could hear servants coming up the back stairway. They remained quiet while two men rolled the enormous wood and copper tub into the chamber. Since all the Sinclair men stood nearly six-and-a-half feet tall and were as broad at Ben Nevis, they needed tubs large enough to fit them. That they liked to share baths with their wives was a bonus. Magnus appreciated the size, since he wasn’t a small man, either. Women filled it with hot water, leaving two more buckets within reach and on the hearth. Magnus looked forward to a long soak.
“Thank ye.” Magnus smiled graciously at the servants, and two of the women offered coy smiles he understood. He paid no attention. The last thing he needed was for Alex to imagine he would accept any offer after he’d just seen Magnus with his daughter. “I’ll see ye at the evening meal, Alex.”
Alex nodded before he turned away. Magnus thought the older man may have thawed—slightly—after seeing Magnus ignore the maids. He didn’t want Alex to believe he chased any skirt that swished past him. The moment the door closed behind Alex, Magnus stripped and stepped into the tub. The steam wafted around him as he curled enough to slide his shoulders beneath the surface. It felt like the first time in nearly two years since he’d had a moment of peace. No one hounded him. No one guilted him. No one expected anything of him. When he tipped his head back to rest against the rim, he nearly fell asleep. A knock at the door roused him.
“Aye?”
“It’s me.” Siùsan stood on the other side of the portal.
“Give me a minute. I dozed off. Let me get clean and put on some clothes.” Magnus hurried to wash his hair and pour fresh water over it before he scrubbed the grime from his journey from his skin. He was out of the tub and wrapping a clean plaid around his waist in two minutes. He walked to the door and opened it for his sister.
“Weary? Would ye prefer a tray in here and an early night?”
“Nay. I wish to see everyone. It’s been a nice respite to have an hour to maself, but I’m ready to visit our family.” Family. Saoirse was already family. He needed to remind himself of that before he found himself at the end of Alex’s, or any of the Sinclair men’s, sword.
“It was nice of ye to walk Saoirse back. She’s convinced Alex that one guard is enough, but ma sisters and I worry.” Magnus knew the women who married the Sinclair brothers considered themselves sisters with no qualifier. In turn, it felt like he’d gained three other sisters, plus Mairghread Mackay, who was the fifth of the older generation’s Sinclair siblings. That meant Saoirse was more a niece than a woman to ogle.
“Is there reason to fear her going outside the wall with only one guard?”
“Ye saw her. She’s more than just bonnie. Her blonde hair is too recognizable as one of the laird’s granddaughters. She could easily be a target.”
“Does Shona go out with more guards?” Shona was the youngest of Siùsan’s three children, the twins Thormud and Rose Kyla being barely a year older than Shona. She shared the strawberry-blonde hair she inherited from Siùsan’s MacLeod family.
“That lass shall be the death of me. She’s more Mairghread’s child than mine. She inherited a wild streak from her aunt. She and Maisie are a right pair. They can still keep up with the lads. I dinna ken what Deirdre and Mòr are going to do with her because I havenae a clue how to tame Shona.”
From the smile on Siùsan’s face, he knew no one intended to tame either of the lasses. His niece was a spitfire, despite how she’d been a quiet child. She’d grown into her personality. Magnus looked forward to his nephew and two nieces. He wondered if Thormud was as large as Callum now that he’d entered true manhood. At four-and-twenty, Magnus figured his nephew had likely stopped growing.
“They’re all waiting belowstairs. Everyone’s eager to see ye. We thought ye might have drowned.”
“Nay. Just too comfortable in the hot water. Give me another minute, and I’ll be down.” Siùsan stretched to kiss her brother’s cheek before leaving so he could dress. He joined her in the passageway.
As Magnus reached the last three steps to the Great Hall, he looked across the enormous gathering hall and spied the four Sinclair brothers and their father. All five men stood in the Sinclair stance—feet hip-width apart and arms crossed—and watched Magnus approach.
