“Grissa?”
“Aye?”
“What is Chieftain MacDonald’s full Christian name? Do ye know it?”
“Aye. He is Chieftain Drummond Maclain Teague MacDonald.” The maid shrugged as she placed the pockets against Mila’s sides and secured them by tying their ribbons around her waist. “I once heard him say he goes by Teague because no man could fill the boots left behind by Old Maclain.” She held out the outer skirt for Mila to slip on over her head. “But as the younger Maclain, we all think he has done more than a little right by us. We are more prosperous than most and know he is going to lead us to become even more so. But if he wishes to go by Teague, ’tis his right.”
Mila closed her eyes, hating the revelation. The kind, generous, charming Teague would die in a matter of months in a very horrible way.
Chapter Six
Teague eyed thelad, noticing how he didn’t use his size as an excuse to avoid anything. The boy charged in and tackled every task with cleverness. He thought things through and overcame every obstacle with skill. A rare trait in one so young. The quick-witted pup was sharper than a freshly honed blade.
His gaze following the lad, he kept his voice low. “Has he said anything?”
“Aye. Talks nonstop,” Calder answered with a wide grin.
“Ye know what I am asking.”
Calder shook his head. “Nary a word about where they came from or were running to. Or how he made those strange marks on his shirt.” Suspicion and wonder filled the man’s voice. “Those odd runes shine like hot coals whenever he steps into the shadows. Damnedest thing I have ever seen.”
Teague snorted. “Remarkable indeed, considering all we have witnessed.” While Calder might not be blood, he was the closest thing to a brother as any man could want, and twice as trustworthy. Teague resettled his folded arms across his chest. “His mother is just as tight-lipped. All she shared was the lad is verra sensitive about his size. Never call attention to it or call himwee, ye ken? Our young Master Robbie there is fifteen, though ye would never think it to look at him.”
“Talk to him much and ye know he is older than he looks.” Calder dipped a nod in the boy’s direction. “Wisdom of an old soul in that one. In his eyes, too. Shadows of many trials. No telling what that lad’s been through.” He sidled a step closer, ducked his chin, and lowered his voice. “He would make a fine son, and I be interested in his mother. She is a widow, aye?”
The question awakened a possessive inner stirring that caught Teague off guard. “Aye, Mistress Mila shared that much. Widowed a little more than a year, she said.”
“Mila,” Calder repeated in a way that gave Teague the unreasonable urge to punch him. “Lovely name for a lovely lady.” He chuckled. “Even when she be covered in mud.”
“I have settled her and the lad in the quarters next to mine.” Teague took a long, slow look at his friend, waiting for the man to realize the unspoken intent of that statement.
“I see.” Calder’s jaw rippled. After a significant pause, he nodded. “As ye wish, brother.” His easygoing demeanor quickly returned. With a sly wink, he added, “I will make a damn fine uncle, though.”
Teague clapped him on the back. “That ye will, but let us not put the wagon ahead of the horse, aye? The lady might not give either of us a passing glance.” Her announcing that she and her son’s stay would not be long still troubled him. Where the devil could they be headed? “She is dead set on leaving here as soon as possible.”
Calder shrugged. “Could be she was traveling to family after losing her man.”
“Could be.” Teague had no idea but was determined to find out. “But that doesna explain her clothing. Why was she dressed as a man? And with such odd clothes. I have never seen the like of those trews and that coat of hers.”
“Safety, perhaps? And could be she fashioned them herself.” Calder pondered the mystery with a frown. “Maybe she wore them for ease in traveling? Would skirts not be bothersome while traveling the Highlands on foot?”
“Teague!” The screeching shout pierced the air like the sharp keening of a gull.
A groan escaped him before he could catch it.
Calder snorted a laugh before cutting it off with a cough. “I thought ye spoke with her?”
“I tried.” Teague adopted a smile he didn’t feel as old Liam’s daughter sashayed into view. “How is yer father, Lizzie? Duff tells me the forge turned on him.”
“His burns are healing well. Mrs. Cain’s poultice did wonders.” The curvy lass, known to turn the head of every lad in the keep, gave a coy toss of her blonde curls. “But I didna come here to speak about Da.” She fluttered her pale lashes. A tactic that left Teague cold. “I came to scold ye for being gone so verra long,” she said. “I missed ye.”
He ignored that part. “Duff also said yer da gave the two of ye permission to marry.” He rocked back on his heels and added an approving nod. “When is the big day, or did I miss it?”
Her flirtatiousness melted into the sullen pout of a spoiled bairn. “I have not agreed to marry him, no matter what Da says.”
“He is a good man, that Duff.” Teague slanted a brow at Calder.
“Aye,” Calder agreed. “Fine as they come, old Duff is. Talented with leather, too. Ye could do a far sight worse for a husband.”
