“I do.” His father clasped his shoulder. His sire stared up at the sky, a strange look crossed his face—an expression of almost…delight. “Stablemasters are special.”
“They are?”
“Aye. If ‘twere not for Mac and my stablemaster before him, Old Hugh, I never would have found and married your mother.”
The thought shocked him. “Truly?”
“Aye. I would not have enjoyed my life without her. She means as much to me as Alice did to Mac. Listen to the old men of the world, Jamie.”
“Did Jake go through this with Aline?”
His sire shook his head. “Jake sees what’s right in front of him, but does not pay attention to what’s around him. All he saw was Aline; he did not care about the circumstances that brought her to us. You see everything around you, but not what’s right in front of you.”
“Gracie’s right in front of me.”
“Aye.”
“Does it matter that we’re cousins?” he asked. “I worried ‘twas wrong.” He glanced at his sire, hoping he would approve of what he wished to do. Men that underestimated Alex Grant were foolish. He couldn’t believe the battle he’d just had with his sire.
“Nay. She’s not a blood cousin. I don’t think Gracie sees you as a cousin.”
Jamie thought that was a good sign. He did not want Gracie to see him as a cousin at all. He thought about each of the kisses they’d shared. She’d never pushed him away the way she’d pushed against Sean. She’d looked extremely uncomfortable with Laird Chisholm. Was it his imagination or had she fit him just perfectly? She’d never pushed away from him but instead found the perfect way to melt into him, her softness something he suddenly craved. “I need to find her, talk to her. Do you think Uncle Robbie would accept my request for her hand?”
“Aye. But I would suggest courting her. You need to talk to Gracie first.”
His father’s tone had changed to one of encouragement, the rough edge he’d had before their swordplay now gone. He’d been crude about Gracie, said horrible things, all signs of his jealousy. For some unknown reason, it all started to make sense to him. His attitude had been all about her, though he wouldn’t admit it to many.
“You and Mama will support me?”
“Aye.” His sire smiled, sheathing his sword.
“I need to find Gracie, then talk to Uncle Robbie and Aunt Caralyn.”
His father nodded before he glanced up at the sky. “That could be a problem.”
“Why?”
“Because Gracie decided she wished to go to the baron’s this morn. They left at dawn.”
Chapter Twenty
Alex in battle, defending his clan…
Kyla took her hand and said, “We have no time to waste, just come.” She tugged her down the passageway and up the long staircase to the parapets. Once outside, they ran around the curtain wall until they reached the front, where they had a good view of the gates. Some of the guards who waited in the crenellations with their bows pushed them out of the way.
The sight sent a wave of panic through Gracie. “There are so many.” A sea of warriors sat on their horses in the meadow, the Baron of Duncrub’s flag waving above them in the breeze. Uncle Alex took his time getting out there, making their enemy wait as he often did. Her sire, Uncle Brodie, Jake, and Jamie already sat on their horses in front of the gates, and a score of Grant guards waited behind them and off to the side of the field.
“Will we be able to hear? What do you think he wants?” Kyla whispered.
Gracie said, with as much conviction as she could muster, “He cannot want me unless he wishes to tie me to a whipping post and give me forty lashes in front of his clan.” She chewed on her thumbnail as she stared out over the land. The sight of the baron, even from a distance, sickened her. “We might be able to hear. There’s no wind.”
Alex moved to the front of the Grants, and the guards all moved aside for their laird.
“Da looks bigger than everyone,” Kyla said. “Still…it frightens me when he goes to battle. What would I do if I ever lost him? The baron thinks he’s weak.”
Gracie reached down to clasp Kyla’s hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. “He’s the strongest laird in all the land. Everyone knows that but the baron.”
Uncle Alex roared loud enough for all to hear. “State your business. You’re not welcome on my land.”
