Stellan agreed. If the men they’d left behind were the only MacKay patrol, they were probably hung over this morning and the Sutherlands were safe. But he doubted they’d been sent out alone. Still, the lass needed assurances. “We havena killed anyone but a buck, lass, and ye are safe with us. Now, who are ye?”
“Mariota. I’m…lost, I think. Can ye help me? I wasna safe where I came from.”
“’Tis lucky ye found us. We’re headed home to Sutherland,” he said and nodded toward the buck’s body tied over one of the horses. “Come with us and we’ll see ye taken care of. But first, get down. We’re about to break our fast. Ye must be hungry.”
Once she was off her horse, he realized she was hurt, scratched, limping, and couldn’t continue on her own.
“I need to free Valkyrie to hunt,” she told him. “I’ve kept her hooded to keep her quiet since I left home.”
“Will she return to ye?” Could the lass be lying? Had she stolen a valuable bird?
“Of course. I trained her well.” Mariota removed the jesses and tossed the bird into the air.
To Stellen’s consternation, it flew off, but before long, it returned, a vole clutched in its claws, dropped the prey near the lass, and at her signal, settled on the ground to tear at it. He couldn’t help but be impressed.
Over their own meal, Mariota told him of how she’d been attacked three times, and how Valkyrie saved her the second time after her attacker narrowly missed killing the raptor. Stellan knew he was taking a dangerous step—MacKay could say he stole the lass and ruined her—but her harrowing tale gained his sympathy and his cooperation. Her tale was too real to ignore, and her bravery impressed him. She’d fought off the last attack in her own hall.
Mariota was like no lass he’d ever met. She intrigued him, and he vowed to find out more about her. Before they headed south, he gave her spare clothes and a man’s bonnet to hide her hair in case they were unlucky enough to happen near a MacKay patrol foolish enough to be looking for her on Sutherland territory.
The trip back to Dunrobin went much faster than the trip out because they weren’t meandering around the countryside, on the trail of the huge buck. They rode straight through to the Sutherland keep on the Moray firth.
Stellan introduced Mariota to the clan steward to settle her in a chamber, her hawk in the mews, and to get her whatever she needed. By the time Stellan delivered the buck to the kitchen, he was tired, again covered in blood, and ready for a hot bath, but first he had to explain Mariota to the laird. He enlisted Cook’s help. Rather than having hot water hauled up to his chamber, he used the tub in the screened-off nook off the kitchen, stripped and slid in with a satisfied groan. Cook had left soap and bath sheets. He was content to stay until the water cooled, but the laird awaited. So did Mariota.
Anders shouted his name, waking him from the near doze brought on by warm comfort and exhaustion. “Ah, there ye are. So Cook is stewing ye for our supper?”
“No’ likely,” Stellan answered, stood and let the water run down his torso before grabbing the top bath sheet from the stack and wrapping it around his waist. “What’s so urgent ye have to come find me here?” He stepped out of the tub and frowned at his twin.
“I heard ye picked up a stray. And Da wants us.”
“Now, of course.” He grabbed the next towel and rubbed his hair as dry as he could. “I have to dress.”
“Best hurry, then. I’ll go stall him.”
Anders left and Stellan headed for his chamber, making a point to ignore the admiring glances the kitchen wenches and other clan womenfolk sent his way. Why hadn’t he sent for clean clothes before he got in the damned tub? In his chamber, he dressed quickly, then hurried to the laird’s solar. Anders and their father were standing at the work table, studying a map.
“Ye needed to see us?” Stellan moved toward them.
“Are ye surprised? What the hell were ye thinking?”
“That the lass was lost, exhausted, and needed help. She’s a MacKay.”
“I’m well aware. Mariota.”
“Aye.” A shiver ran down Stellan’s back. What did his da know?
“I received a missive from the MacKay. The second on the subject actually, two days ago.”
“What subject?”
Anders moved around the table to stand with his twin.
Sutherland gestured them to chairs. “His daughter, Mariota, is of marriageable age.”
Stellan exchanged a shocked glance with Anders. This was trouble, indeed. Did she leave because she was to be wed rather than the story she told about being attacked?
“Last fall,” their father continued, “he proposed an alliance when ye both were away. I posed it to Cameron. Ye ken he looked in another direction for a wife.”
“Mary Rose, aye.” According to the missives Stellan had read, it was a love match.
