6
Gavin stood in the middle of the courtyard, watching as the horses were led out from the stables. He nodded to the grooms bringing his beast to him. Lairdkiller, a huge black destrier that no one else could get near.
It took three men to even get him to move, the beast was flicking his head and dragging his feet in the straw. Gavin walked over and patted his flank. Immediately the horse fell still.
Taking the reins he didn’t immediately mount Lairdkiller. Instead he turned to speak to his men. All of them looked eager to fight.
Lachlan, his bare arms crisscrossed with scars, red hair shorn almost to the scalp. Beside him was Bruce with his shock of white hair. He had aged tremendously during their six months in captivity but he still looked far stronger than any of the others. He clearly wasn’t getting distracted by thoughts of Mary.
What would Bruce make of Heather? He made a mental note to ask him when they were back. Bruce had given him advice all his life, taking it had sometimes been the only thing that kept him alive.
It had been Bruce who held misgivings about the peace negotiation. If he’d listened, they might not have spent six months in the dungeon of Frazer Castle, not that Bruce ever once admonished him for failing to listen.
Beside Bruce stood Tom and John, the two red haired brothers who’d spent the entire time in captivity talking about the food they were going to eat when they got out. The only way to tell them apart was by their clothing, Tom was never seen without his plaid across his chest, John always went barechested, no matter what the occasion.
Gavin sometimes wondered what would happen if John were invited to meet the King. Which of them would break protocol first? He had a feeling it would probably be the King.
Alan and Will stood at the back of the group. Alan was wiping linseed oil along the length of his sword blade, singing quietly to himself as he did so, his face barely visible through his thick beard. If he ever met a woman, she’d have her work cut out competing with his sword to win his heart.
His eyes moved on to Will. Shortest of the group but also the fiercest, he was the one to whom Gavin primarily addressed his speech. He was the one who needed the reminder more than the others.
“We’re not going out there in search of a battle,” Gavin said, gaining their attention as final preparations were made to the rest of the horses. Lairdkiller whinnied loudly, nudging his neck. He ignored him. “We are going out there to find out for ourselves if the rumors are true.”
“And what if they are?”Alan asked.
Will replied. “Kill them all.”
“No,” Gavin said, looking pointedly at Will. “If the rumors are true there could be a thousand men gathered together. How long do you think that body of yours would remain untouched?”
“Why not ask Mary? She knows when this body was last touched, isn’t that right, Bruce?”
Bruce scowled at him but said nothing. Gavin waved his hand to silence the laughter. “Enough of that sort of talk. We will be riding out with a guest this morning.”
As if on cue, Heather emerged from the keep at that moment, a ray of light in the mud, shining bright like an angel, like she was part of the clan and always had been. The others noticed her at once. “Here she comes so be polite, Tom that goes for you as well.
“Why pick on me?” Tom asked, grinning wickedly. “I’m always polite to the ladies. Especially when there’s a chance of seeing more of your special guest with all her curves on show.” He pulled a face and Gavin had the almost unstoppable urge to punch him.
He pointed his sword at Tom. “Speak like that again and your viscera will be on show.”
The laughter died at once. The men looked at him strangely. He knew why. He normally joined in with the laughter when they ribbed each other before going on patrol. Why was this any different? He couldn’t explain to them, it would make him look weak. Biting down on the desire to explain, he waved for Heather to join them.
It wasn’t the first time a woman had come on patrol. Sometimes it was so one of the men could impress whichever lady they were courting at that time, showing off their riding skills, perhaps slipping away together for a short spell to propose marriage when they reached some popular beauty spot.
Gavin had never minded. As long as the men could focus when they needed to, that was all that mattered.
Without allowing women to accompany them from time to time, they would have hard times finding brides. Between sword practice, archery, and guard duty there was often little time left for wooing. Yet, somehow the clan survived from one generation to the next.
Gavin could only marvel at it, not a little jealously. His men could marry for love. They could pick out the women they wanted. What did he have to do? Pick which of the clans he wished to cement an alliance with and then take the first daughter that came along?
With a sinking feeling as Heather walked over, he found himself comparing her to the daughters of Mungo Frazer. Was she a relative of the clan? It was too much to hope. She bore no resemblance to Mungo or to either of his children.
The laird of the Frazer clan had two daughters. The first, Catherine, had been afflicted with the pox at an early age and the experience had scarred her soul far deeper than her skin.
The few times she had attended clan gatherings, she sat off to one side with her handmaid next to her, the two of them scowling into the distance.
Whenever any man approached to ask for a dance she would openly mock them until they had no choice but to withdraw. She was expected to remain a spinster all her life. Marriage to her would be a constant battle.
Then there was Amelia. She was pretty enough in her own way with her long golden locks and cute button nose but she was grasping. She had pursued Gavin for a time when they were younger until she found a laird who was richer, whereupon she dropped Gavin like he was a rotten chicken, putting all her efforts into chasing Thomas MacDonald.
