“I worried when Stephen took in the orphanedbairn. ’Twas a chance, as a spawn of that villain Maclay, the lad would have troublesome tendencies. What a fine mess.”
“Ach, a fine mess,” Munn agreed, wholeheartedly.
“Is the fae Caitrina now meddling with the lives ofbairns?” the chief asked.
“Nae.” Munn swallowed uneasily. Caitrina, the halfling princess who lived amongst the humans in the future posing as a garden designer and part owner of the Foxgloves garden center in a place called Anderson Creek, was notorious for meddling with Highlanders’ lives by using the faerie hill to sift time and for uniting unlikely lovers across the centuries. Though he strongly doubted her involvement with Stephen’sson. “Lad claims to have been assisted through time by wee faeries. Pixies.”
“Great. Just great.” Archibald smacked a fist against his thigh. “When did pixies return to our soil? Why did you not advise me?”
“Did not ken of their reappearance until now.”
“Can you summon Caitrina to take the lad home?”
“Nae. She has been in hiding for these past several years.”Ha. Hiding from an unwanted bridegroom, more than likely. What goes ’round—
“Why?” Archibald waved a hand and shook his head. “Never mind. Not my concern. How willwereturn the lad home?”
Munn shrugged, having no answer for his chief.
The scraping of boats across shingle signaled the arrival from the mainland of the hunting party.
* * *
While the others retrieved the gear from thecurrachs, Gregor carefully debarked as not to jar the lass in his arms. Concern she had yet to awaken from her faint wrinkled his brow. He prayed Lady Isobell, the chief’s wife, kenned how to rouse the woman.
“Dinnae see any bagged deer.” Archibald strode toward them, a scowl engraved on his face. “Was the hunt a failure then?”
Gregor stiffened, taking the barb personally. But he had done right to abandon the hunt and bring the lass to Castle Lachlan for care. The chief would surely recognize the wisdom of such a course.
“We ran into mischief in the Fir-wood,” Duncan said.
The chief raised an annoyed gaze to the man then shifted scrutiny to Gregor and the lass.
“Indeed.” Archibald stepped in front of Gregor and brushed hair from the woman’s face. “Emily?”
Gregor stiffened. He didn’t care for the man touchinghiswoman.Shite!“What?” He raised his gaze to Archibald. “Youken the lass?”
“Take her inside to Isobell. She will care for the girl.”
How did the chief ken the lass? Gregor wanted an answer, but it was more important to get her out of the raw elements and tended to by someone who kenned what to do for her. He headed for the path toward the castle gate.
“Lad?”
Not more than three steps had he taken when the chief’s bark halted him in place. “Aye?”
“Dinnae linger. Leave the lass with Isobell and her woman then report directly to my private chamber. I wish to have words with you.”
“As you please.”
When he entered the great hall, Lady Isobell rose from the table where she sat with one of her sons and another wee lad, a stranger, and hurried to his side. “Who have we here? Oh, my. Emily.”
“You ken who she is?”
“Aye. Come with me.” She marched across the stone floor, collecting her woman, Aine, along the way to the stairs. They ascended to the next level, and he followed them up the circular steps careful not to bang the lass’s head against the hard stone wall, and along the passageway to a bedchamber decorated to a female’s taste.
Aine directed him to the green velvet curtained bed, where he carefully placed the lass—Emily—among plump pillows and feather and fur bedding. The women fussed over her and shooed him away. He hesitated at the doorway, wishing to be of help. But the chief waited on him.
“Go,” Lady Isobell instructed. “You must have tasks elsewhere.”
