Page 18 of Moon Craving

Abigail slipped into her well-practiced method of reading lips, watching first the

Scotsman speak and then Sir Reuben.

Sir Reuben swung down off his horse, followed by the most senior soldier and two

others. The rest remained mounted. "You are the laird?"

"Nay, he is out hunting with the Sinclair."

Her stepfather was clearly taken aback. "My daughter's intended is out hunting?"

"Aye."

"And your laird went with him?"

From the look on the old man's face, something in the way Sir Reuben spoke

alarmed him. "Ye dinna gainsay the Sinclair, my lord."

"Perhaps he wanted to provide the meat for the wedding feast himself?" Sir

Reuben asked.

The old man nodded his head quickly. "Aye, I'm sure that was it."

"I see." Sir Reuben looked around him. "Your laird has made arrangements for our

comfort?"

The MacDonald man pointed to a cottage separate from the others and near

another building. "Aye. The cottage yonder, near the chapel, is clean and ready for your

occupation."

"And my soldiers?"

"Are they not accustomed to sleeping outside like a Scottish warrior?" the old man

asked, a wicked twinkle in his eye.

Abigail found herself almost smiling.

"We have tents for them to pitch around the cottage. I can provide for all my people

in a civilized fashion," her stepfather said with what she was sure was arrogance. It was in

his eyes and the way he held himself.

Sir Reuben was a powerful lord, which was why his only sanction upon sending a

miserly number of soldiers as tithe to his king when he had a bevy of them had been the

loss of a daughter.

Abigail knew her mother was speaking as well because the old man's eyes strayed

in Sybil's direction a couple of times, though he did not seem to ever speak directly to her