“Ye need the physician?”the laird asked when the prior had gone.
“I just have a few questions.”
“About last night?”
Hew gave him the easy answer.“Aye.”Then he changed the subject.“’Tis a fine castle ye have, m’laird.”
“Not nearly as fine as Rivenloch, I’m certain,” the laird argued.“Is it true the armory is the size of a tournament field?”
Hew chuckled at that.“Not quite, though ’tis nearly as big as your great hall.”
The laird whistled in amazement.“How are ye kin to the laird?”
“Laird Deirdre?She’s my…” He faltered as, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the vision in green emerging again from the stairwell.But he dared not let his gaze drift to her.“My aunt.”
“So your mother is…”
Hew couldn’t think.Not while the green blur behind the laird was smiling and carrying on with the maidservants.“My mother is…” he repeated.Fierce?Hot-tempered?Deadly with a sword?What did the laird want to know?Ah, her name.“Helena.”
“So your father is…Colin?”
“Mmm.”
It took all Hew’s willpower to keep his gaze trained on the laird when he heard a trickle of gentle laughter that had to belong to the delicate lass.Laughter like a bubbling burn.The soft sprinkle of spring rain.The melodious plucking of a harp.
“…are ye not?the laird said.
Hew flushed.He hadn’t heard a word.And the swelling in his trews was proving a powerful distraction.“I’m sorry.What was that?”
The laird grinned.“I think we need a larger hall.The Dunlops are a noisy bunch.I said, then ye’re cousin to the great tournament champion, Gellir, are ye not?”
“Aye.”Hew stiffened.He hoped the laird wouldn’t ask him where Gellir was.He’d already said too much.
“He’s got quite the reputation with a sword.”The laird pointedly lowered his gaze.“Though ye seem impressively endowed yourself.”
Hew’s eyes widened with horror.Was his arousal so obvious?Then he realized the laird was looking at the axe he’d planted betwixt his feet.
Expelling a relieved breath, Hew hefted the axe up, holding it so the laird could inspect the handle.“She’s served me well in battle.”
The laird ran his fingers over the carvings.“Vikin’ runes, aye?What does it say?”
“’Tis the Rivenloch motto.Love conquers all.”Hew furrowed his brows.At the moment, he didn’t exactly believe that.
“Curious inscription for a weapon o’ war.”
It wasn’t the first time someone had told Hew that.Nor the first time he’d quipped in reply, “No one forgets the kiss of my axe.”
“No doubt,” the laird agreed, eyeing the sharpened deadly blade.
A few yards away, the lass giggled again.Hew clenched his jaw as he focused on the laird, trying not to look at her.But in his peripheral vision, he saw the green gown weave in and out and finally disappear into the crowd.Now perhaps he could think.
“Supper?”the laird suggested.
Hew silently cursed.His eyes might have been trained on the laird, but his mind had wandered again.What had he missed?“Supper?”
“Aye.”The laird drew close to confide, “I hear they don’t feed a man enough to fill a flea at Kildunan.My cook can make ye a proper meal.”
“’Tis a tempting offer,” Hew said.“But the prior needs to return for the burial on the morrow.”
