His dark-auburn brows rose, then drew together. He looked suddenly very much like his father. “Thank ye, Fiona,” he said quietly. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”
She nodded and turned away.
And that was when she made her mistake. Sidestepping two crabbers who were laughing over something, she passed tooclose to the center table. Jock’s heavily muscled arm shot out and hauled her onto his lap.
“Flirting with other men?” he growled in her ear, holding her fast against him as she struggled. “I don’t like that. Ye should have eyes only for me.”
“Never mind that,” his brother replied with a snort. “Where’s our stew?”
“First,” Jock said, reaching up with his free hand and palming a breast possessively, “I need to stake my claim.”
Fiona snarled a curse, struggling harder.
“Get yer hands off her.”
A low, hard voice cut through the room.
She froze.
Ailean loomed over them, fists clenched at his sides.
“Says who?” Jock sneered, tightening his grip.
“Ailean Maclean,” he said coldly. “Steward of Ardnacross.”
Both brothers stilled. They then exchanged a glance before Jock laughed. “Go back to yer supper,steward, and let us have our fun.”
He let go of her breast then and reached down to lift her skirts. But he never got the chance.
Ailean’s fist crashed into his jaw. Jock’s head snapped back. His grip loosened.
Fiona wrenched free and stumbled away just as Ailean grabbed Jock by the collar, hauled him up, and head-butted him. The big man reeled.
Fife leapt to his feet, shouting abuse.
Ailean let Jock crash to the floor and turned on Fife.
Fiona backed toward the kitchen, heart pounding.
Ailean moved like the warrior he was—fast, ruthless, precise. His fist drove into Fife’s belly, doubling him over, then another smashed into his mouth. Blood sprayed.
Fife staggered back, clutching his split lip. “Ye’ll pay for that,” he choked out.
“Neither of ye are welcome in Ardnacross,” Ailean ground out, nodding toward the door. “Collect yer brother and be gone before more harm comes yer way.”
The other men in the tavern were on their feet now, watching, ready to step in if needed.
Jock staggered up, dazed, shot Ailean a murderous look, and lurched for the door. Fife followed.
28: UNFINISHED BUSINESS
STEPPING BACK, FIONA admired her work.
No, it wasn’t a grand tapestry showing the Macleans in victory at Dounarwyse, but it was a fine job nonetheless. She’d woven a blanket for Diarmaid using wool from the local sheep, and she’d dyed it reds and greens—the colors of the Maclean plaid.
It was a surprise for the carpenter. He’d commissioned a plain blanket for his bed, but he wouldn’t be expecting this.
She’d used up nearly all of her red madder dye and would need to source more, but it was worth it. After all, the carpenter had given her a chance to weave again.
