Brodie grinned from one ear to the other. Angus belched and nodded his head as if his approval was all that was needed to complete this pair’s binding. Graham pulled up short on the reins and regarded Callum and the suddenly bashful woman in his arms with a measured look. Jamie was the only one in the group scratching his head, befuddled by their appearance.
“Where are ye all off to?” Callum looked each one of them over, adding a well-deserved scowl to Brodie’s knowing wink.
“Maggie told us ye barreled out of here like there was a fire on yer arse,” Graham told him, still unsure if his instinct was deceiving him. He had tumbled enough wenches to recognize when they’d been thoroughly tumbled. “What the hell happened to ye, Kate?” he asked her while she inconspicuously patted the last of her unruly curls into place.
Her cheeks went crimson almost instantly, and Graham would have smiled if the sight of her bruised face hadn’t made his blood go cold.
“Graham, if ye have a question to ask, ye’ll ask me.” Callum aimed his fierce glare on his commander.
“Verra well.” Graham switched his attention to Callum. “What the hell happened to her face?”
How had he forgotten that? “She was attacked on the road.” When they demanded the full tale, he told them. “I killed the whoresons.”
“Callum.” The braw tilt of Jamie’s chin struck Callum in the gut, and the laird arched his eyebrow and waited for Jamie to continue. “Ye canna be so careless to let her oot of yer sight again. I think I should watch over her when ye’re angry with her.”
Kate almost wept. She would have leapt off Callum’s horse and hugged the young warrior had he not visibly cringed when Callum inched his mount closer to his.
“So ye’re her champion now, are ye, Jamie? What of Maggie?”
Whatever resolve Jamie possessed a moment ago fair dripped off his shoulders until they slumped in defeat. ’Twas too late—he had started this, and now he knew he must finish it. He swallowed audibly, then cleared his throat. “Ye know that I would never let harm come to Maggie. But Kate needs . . . She needs . . .” Callum waited patiently while the young warrior fought to girdle up his loins again. “She needs . . . someone . . . to . . . to protect her,” he finally spat out.
Callum nodded and thought about it, taking his time and trying to subdue his amusement. “Verra well, Jamie. Yer duty is now to guard my sister and Kate when I’m unable to do so. But”—he leaned forward, fastened his piercing gaze on each of them, and then, miracle of miracles, began to smile—“there will be only one Sir Galahan fer this lady at Camlochlin. And that’ll be me.”
Jamie scrunched up his face. “Who?”
But Callum did not answer. He flicked his reins and left his men there on the crest, each one wearing the same gaping expression of astonishment on his face, save for Graham, who snatched Angus’s brew out of his large paw. He held it up to the couple descending the ridge, and his lips curled into a grin. “To knights, and the ladies who love them,” he toasted, then took a hearty swig of whiskey.
“It’s Sir Galahad.”
“Hmmm?” Callum set his gaze on his home and then on the back of Kate’s head. God’s teeth, he was so damned happy he was beginning to feel like a fool.
“Sir Galahad, not Galahan,” she corrected him, then angled her head to toss him a mischievous smile. “But you’ll do, MacGregor.”
Behind them, Callum’s men heard a sound they all felt quite sure they never heard before. It drifted backward and filled the glen with echoes.
“Did ye hear that?” Brodie slowed his horse, waited a moment, then slammed his fist into Angus’s shoulder. “What’s in that brew? I’m fearin’ ’tis made me daft.”
Angus reached out and near broke his cousin’s nose—which would have been the third time—with a hefty swing. “Next time ye insult me brew, I’ll rid ye of yer teeth, ye bastard MacGregor.”
“Yer no’ daft, Brodie.” Jamie stared on ahead, his huge blue eyes wider than twin seas. “I hear it, too.”
Angus jammed his finger in his ear and wiggled it. “I’ll be damned, I hear it.”
Jamie turned his awe-stricken gaze to Graham. “What does it mean?”
“It means yer laird is laughing, ye bunch of lackwits.” Graham kicked his mount’s flanks and raced after Callum and Kate, calling over his shoulder. “Have ye never heard the man laugh before?”
Jamie watched his brother ride away, then turned to the others and shrugged his shoulders. “Only before he aimed to kill someone.”
Angus tossed him his pouch of brew. “Here, drink up, lad. Things aroond here are aboot to change, I’d wager. Ye’re goin’ to need all the hair on yer chest ye can gather.”
Brodie laughed. “First he’ll be needin’ some hair on his . . .” He almost swallowed his tongue at the force of Angus’s palm striking behind his head.
“Mind yer tongue,” the burly warrior warned. And then Jamie took off after his laird, leaving both of his brutish friends on the ground, their fists flying.
Chapter Thirty-Two
CALLUM SAT IN THE GREAT HALL with Graham and had just shoved a slice of bread into his mouth when Brodie dragged a chair across from him and sat. Callum looked up briefly, then set about finishing his meal. After another full moment had passed, Callum lifted his gaze again, quaffed his drink, and then slammed the cup down on the table.
