“Aye, well, dinnae allow a little thing likeprisonerorenemyto stand in yer way. Convince her, laddie. Yer father broke from tradition when he refused to claim yer mother with an audience—I always kenned he was a jealous sort—and we’re a small enough, new enough clan that it willnae matter.”
She poked me again. “But claim her, ye must, if ye want to have any sort of peace in yer own mind and heart.”
Claim her. Mate.
My heart began to pound. I was staring down at Jean, but I wasn’t seeing her.
I was seeing a set of flashing blue eyes, daring me to do something about this desperation I was feeling.
“Aye,” I whispered, and knew I was answering myself as well as Jean.
If Rowena was my Mate, I needed to claim her. I needed to be certain.
“Vrogul!”
The call—my brother’s voice—jerked my attention toward the village where Maardok was hurrying toward me, one hand waving over his head to catch my attention.
The old woman at my side sighed and poked me a third time.
“Yer chiefly duties await,D’malk. But dinnae forget what I said. No’ about the leeks—I’ll handle that. About yer lass.”
I gave her a brief smile.
“Jean, I doubt I’ll think of aught else.”
With a cackle, she stepped back and shooed me onward.
“Go on, then. I’ll get there eventually.”
With a grateful nod, I shifted thetairsgeirover my shoulder and broke into a trot to meet my brother. He was looking worried.
“What is it?” I asked. “No’ Issa, is it?” Her time was still weeks away, Matthias had assured us.
But Maardok shook his head.
“Callor has sent a messenger, one of his grandsons. He’s here about the ore.”
“Fook me,” I muttered, scrubbing my hand down my face. “Where did ye leave him?”
“He and both his men are in the village. Issa was arranging food and drink for them while their horses are tended.”
Well, that was good, anyhow. With a sigh, I swung the spade from my shoulder and handed it to my brother.
“I’ll meet with him. After, I’ll need to think.”
Because there was something coming, I couldfeelit.
When I strode into the center of the village, three strangers waited for me. Two were hulking warriors, none I recognized, but that was no surprise; the Battleborn clan was big, and getting bigger with each of Callor’s conquests. The male in the middle—still young enough that his beard was scraggly—Ididrecognize.
“Dallin,” I acknowledged with as regal a nod as I could manage. “Well met.”
The lad sneered as he looked me up and down, and I was aware of the peat on my knees and under my claws. I resisted the urge to straighten my kilt or wipe off my hands. I was a chief of a struggling clan, and I looked it. Let Callor’s grandson remember that.
Callor was old now, but I remembered him as looking regal and powerful at all times. He surrounded himself with strength even now, and took pride in trotting out his young Mate. The pair of them were exhibitionists, and Iwasn’t the only one who’d turned away when he’d taken her in public, as proof of his virility and might.
Henever had to help cut peat or scour the barnacles off a birlinn or bring the sheep down for the season. But I did, and I wouldn’t be ashamed of it.
“Stormseeker,” Callor’s grandson finally acknowledged. “I was no’ aware I’d offended ye. But what other reason could there be, for keeping us waiting?”
