“Now,” he demanded loudly. “Would someone like to tell me what the hell is going on here before I’m forced to lose my temper.”
“It’s them dirty tinklers,” one of the men called out from a safe distance away. “We caught ’em sneaking in through the gates. They’re here to steal something.”
“We dinna sneak,” the man at his shoulder asserted. “And we’ve no need to steal anything these people might have. My wife and I walked through the gates in broad daylight. We accompanied the cleric from Urquhart thinking to offer our goods and services for the wedding celebration to be held at this castle.”
“Who are you to be protecting them dirty tinklers?” one of the braver voices called out.
Before Robert could respond, another in the crowd answered for him. “He’s that warrior what claims to be guardian over the laird’s granddaughter.”
More rumbling ensued, but most backed away a little farther.
Robert spared the tinkler only a quick glance, keeping his attention focused on the men around them.
“This is no place to bring yer family, sir. There’s no amount of silver to be made that’s worth risking something so precious in a place as unsettled as this.”
Behind them, the wife edged closer, lifting one hand to her husband’s shoulder. “He speaks the truth, William. Can you no feel it on the wind? We should be away from here. Quickly.”
“Agreed.”
That was all Robert needed to hear. Once again he lifted his voice to call out to the crowd. “These people have meant you no harm and I mean for no harm to come to them. Do you ken my words? Now get away, all of you. Go back to what yer supposed to be doing.”
Gradually, in groups of two and three, they began to drift away, grumbling, casting suspicious looks over their shoulders as they left.
“Where are the guards to let this happen?” Isa’s cheeks were still pink, but Robert suspected the color resulted from her anger.
“Ha!” the man scoffed. “There’s none likely to come to the rescue of a tinkler, miss. Making your aid, good sir, all the more impressive.” He held out his hand to Robert. “William Faas, in yer debt. And this is my wife, Editha, and our son, Sean.
“He’s adorable.” Isa reached out a tentative finger, stroking the child’s soft plump cheek as she spoke.
“Thank you.” Editha’s shy smile broke beautifully over her ruddy face. “As my husband says, we’re in yer debt. If yer ever in need of us, you’ve only to call upon us for aid.”
Editha hefted the small boy higher up on her hip and turned, following William out through the gates to their wagon beyond.
“Right,” Robert muttered, watching the retreating couple. “I’ll keep it in mind if I ever find myself in need of a new pot.” He could only hope William Faas had learned a valuable lesson this day about using more care in where he led his family.
“I suppose it begins,” Isa murmured, brushing past his shoulder to move in front of him.
The doors of the great hall had opened and groups of people drifted down the stairs, all heading toward the little chapel at the far side of the courtyard. Robert and Isa followed, keeping to the edges of the crowd.
The MacGahan laird took his place on the steps of the chapel, Roland Lardiner at his side.
Robert studied the two of them, searching for any signs of trouble. The MacGahan laird must suspect something was amiss at his castle, otherwise why would he have made a point of asking Robert to watch over Isabella? Did he see that the danger came from his own second in command, or was he so close to the man as to be blinded?
“What worry’s filling yer thoughts now, Robbie?”
He looked down to find Isabella staring at him, her gaze penetrating.
“Nothing,” he lied.
“You canna expect me to believe such as that when yer forehead is puckered up like a large dress tied about a small woman. Those wrinkles tell me yer worrying over something.”
When had Isabella become the expert at reading him?
“I was only wondering if the laird’s new wife might not be in danger from...” He stopped, looking around at the people close to them. “From the man we were discussing before,” he finally finished.
“Hardly,” Isa scoffed. “Agneys is Roland’s daughter.”
Roland’s daughter? “But that should mean...”
