Duncan’s brows arched at her boldness. He shook his head as he took another drink of his ale. “If the beasties refuse, their own garments will meet a worse fate. Then they will find themselves roaming the castle naked to the skin for all to see.” He cast a sidelong glance at her, and her heart pulsed faster.
Aileana looked away, willing her voice to remain steady. “That would be an unkind measure to take considering the chill that’s set upon the land.” Taking a swallow of ale for strength, she added, “They might catch their death of cold, not to mention their modesty.”
“Ah, but what is lost in modesty is gained in pleasure for the rest of us.”
“Pleasure?” Her cheeks heated at his implication.
“The pleasure of winning the sport your wee creatures have begun, of course,” Duncan answered smoothly. “It’s a fine thing to best an adversary in battle.”
Aileana remained silent, glancing at him, unsure how to proceed with this new and somehow unsettling Duncan.
He fixed his quicksilver gaze on her. “I, for one, try never to overlook an enemy’s strengths,” he continued. “Or special skills.” He pushed his trencher of food toward her. “Care for a bit of breakfast?”
“Nay, I’ve eaten.”
“Oh, but I insist.”
Aileana clenched her jaw and took a finger full of the oat mash. Curse him. Being made to taste his food at every meal was almost as bad as being banned from the kitchens.
“It is fine,” she mumbled, standing up to leave.
“I’m relieved.”
She scowled and nodded to go. But before she took even three steps, Duncan’s voice rumbled behind her, laughter and warning mingling in a rich timbre. “Do not forget to instruct your wee friends on the task that lies ahead of them, now. If my clothing still bears holes by the time the sun sets on the loch, the morning light will be illuminating a great deal more of the guilty ones than they ever thought to show.”
Aileana bit back her angry response and stalked on toward the curving stairway—and the room full of mending that awaited her—with Duncan’s hearty chuckle sounding in her ears as she went. She tightened her fists and compressed her lips, his amusement pushing her steps to haste and pricking her with the bitter gall of defeat.
Three men crouched in the wooded copse beyond the arched stonework bridge to Eilean Donan. Dusk had descended, and a cold rain trickled down, penetrating the thick plaids that covered their heads. A branch crackled behind them. Almost of accord, they twisted to face the intruder, poised and ready to attack. But in the next instant they sat back on their haunches again.
“It looks the same as the day I left it, thirteen years ago,” Colin said as he approached. His blond hair was streaked dark with the wet, and he pulled his plaid closer around his shoulders and squatted near the three. “What news?”
“It’s as you said. There’s been some repair to the rear. Over there,” one of the men said, as he pointed to an outer wall where new masonry was just visible.
Colin shook the damp hair from his good eye and walked past the men to the edge of the copse. He squinted in the misting rain. The castle’s position so far out onto the land jutting over the loch made it difficult to tell the quality of the work. “Aye. It’s not so long since the clan came back here. Work has just begun.” He stood. “What of the girl? Have you learned if she’s here?”
“She’s here all right,” the second man said, barking a laugh. “With all the MacKenzies milling around, it was easy to sneak into the yard and watch for a while this afternoon.” He laughed again, revealing, when he parted his lips, several black holes where teeth should have been. “Yet as sure as hellfire, when the girl walked out, I almost thought the mistress herself had come without telling us. The lass took my breath away. She’s the very image of Morgana, by the Rood.”
Colin raised his brows, a flare of interest lighting in his gut as he made a grunting sound. When he pulled his gaze away from the castle, it was to stare at his informer. “Did she wear the amulet?”
“Nay. At least not out in the open.”
“Then perhaps it is hidden, as Morgana’s vision foretold. She claims it is beyond any walls.” Colin tightened his hand around the handle of his claymore, rubbing his thumb along the smooth leather gripping. “And my dear brother?”
The man shook his head. “I didn’t see him. Though I know he’s inside by the way those around me were talking. Some of the women spoke of him.” He grinned. “Something about him catching sick from one of the MacKenzie wenches.”
Colin bit down hard and turned back to stare at the sturdy, square keep rising straight into the misty sky. “Aye, well,legitimacydoesn’t ensure good taste.” He spat the words like dirt from his mouth. “Apparently Duncan isn’t much changed by his stay with the English, if he’s still after tupping women all the time.” He made a clucking sound. “What’s the world coming to when you cannot count on the Tower to torture the itch out of a man?”
The three cackled their agreement, then fell suddenly quiet as Colin faced them again. Thinking of his brother had set him on edge, as it always did, and he knew his black mood drifted off of him like a stench. He watched the men fidget beneath his stare. One man almost made the sign of the cross over himself for protection, but thought the better of it when Colin flicked his gaze to him.
“We’ve seen enough. Gather the supplies and meet me at the crossing. We’ll head back tonight.”
The toothless man opened his mouth to protest but the second man elbowed him, making him clamp it shut before uttering a word. The third man grumbled under his breath about a hot meal and shelter. Colin spared them nary another thought. He stalked toward the horses, his boots tramping with a dull sound on the sodden ground.
He’d learned what Morgana wanted to find out. Her sister was here and the MacRaes had settled into Eilean Donan once again. As for the amulet, he couldn’t tell, and he’d not risk discovery by prying further. Three years ago, when they’d first tried to steal back theEalachat Dulhmeny, they’d all nearly been captured for their pains. Nay, Morgana would have to determine the rest of what she needed through her sorcery.
Swinging himself astride his horse, Colin aimed for the north. Wind whipped at his cheeks, making the flesh around his patched eye sting with cold. The ruined socket ached. Yet another reason to make Duncan pay. To make him keep paying. He’d lost his eye thanks to his brother’s parting blow, delivered right before Gavin MacDonell had knocked Duncan senseless and dragged him to the dungeon where Mairi awaited him.
Colin frowned. He hadn’t wanted that part of the plan. Not for Duncan’s sake, but for Mairi’s. She’d been a gentle soul, kind-hearted and innocent. She hadn’t deserved what happened to her. But Duncan had. In the end Duncan had suffered mightily, both in losing Mairi and in the Tower. But it would never be enough. Colin would never forgive him for taking his eye. Or the clan.His clan.
