Smooth, grassy hills.
Prime pastureland dotted with a large number of slow-ambling darkishlumps.
Keith cattle.
The finest beef to be had within a three-days ride.
“Here?” Sir John kneed his horse through a patch of thick-growing gorse bushes to reach Marmaduke’s side. “Did you not hear me? There-”
“We’ve stopped in the right place,” Marmaduke returned, ignoring the man’s agitation. “Nay worries.”
“Bah!” Sir John scowled and thrust his arm toward the distant loch-head where Kinraven raged up through the mist. “There on yon grasslands is where the cattle graze.”
“Ah, well.” Marmaduke followed Sir John’s pointing finger across the night-blackened waters. Some lights still glimmered in Kinraven’s narrow slit windows and shadowy forms could be seen moving about on the parapets.
“You are full mad if you think to find even one bullock roaming this hillside,” Sir John argued, hot-voiced.
“Some would say you are mad to speak thus.” Sir Ross turned on the dispossessed Scottish lord. “There are men who have lost their tongue for less,” he added, drumming his fingers on the hilt of a dirk thrust beneath his belt.
The other two Highlanders rode closer, menace glittering in their narrowed eyes. James urged his horse between them, his own face tight with anger.
But not at Sir John.
James stared past the lot of them to the black specks scattered the length and breadth of the distant lochshore.
“Devil’s bones,” he cursed, frowning. “It boils my blood to know how long my people have gone to bed with nothing but fish and seaweed in their bellies.”
He blew out a hot breath. “They are all there, our entire herd,” he seethed, glancing at Marmaduke. “Do not tell me we have come all this way to search for one bullock on a wooded hillside when so many are within easy reach?”
“One is all we need this night, though two would serve better,” Marmaduke gave back with the calm he’d learned in years of battling demons. “Be of patient heart, my friend. We will retrieve the others soon enough.”
If we rode down to fetch them now, we’d find more waiting for us than bullocks and mist.
Sir John snorted. “You’ll find naught but scrub and brush here.”
“Think you?” Marmaduke met his haughty stare, then dismounted. Untying his rolled oxhide from the back of the saddle, he looked over at Sir Alec. “Tell Sir John where you were two nights ago.”
“Poking about this very ridge is where I was,” Alec furnished, dropping to the ground and reaching for his own oxhide. “Looking for bullocks and swine.”
He shook out the somewhat tatty skin, then slung it round his shoulders. “Saw more than enough cattle grazing through the gorse hereabouts, but no swine.”
He tossed a grin at Sir John. “We’re hoping to catch one tonight, though.”
Irritation flashed across the lord’s face.
“Then let us have done with this foolery and begone from here,” he snapped, dismounting as well. “Why you wished me to accompany when you refuse to heed my advice about where to best employ such thievery-”
“Thievery?!” In one smooth motion, James leapt from his saddle, closing the short distance between them with long, heated strides.
And nary a stumble or hitch.
Marmaduke turned away to hide his smile.
The Highlanders did the same.
Behind them, James railed at his father’s friend. “How can you dare utter such a word when Kinraven lies occupied before you? If we were to retake its walls this night, would you call that thievery, too?” he raged. “Where is the difference?”
Swinging back around, Marmaduke found James gripping Sir John’s arm, and appearing a full head taller than just moments before.
