Page 23 of Highland Storm

“Ye ken damn well I dinna drink red wine.” He hadn’t drunk red wine since he’d seen the blood covering Osla as she lay dead at his feet. Now, red wine only reminded him of that awful day.

Hawke wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyeing up Logan’s tankard that he’d just raised to his mouth. “What are ye drinkin’, Logan?”

Logan’s eyes opened wide and he hurriedly downed the contents in three swigs. When he was finished, he made a smacking noise with his mouth and held the vessel upside down to show him it was empty. “It was Mountain Magic, but sorry, it’s all gone now.”

“What are ye two even doin’ in my chamber and where is Orrick?” Aggravated and feeling like the devil, Hawke padded over to the window in his bare feet and pulled open the shutter. Bright sunlight shone in, hurting his eyes. He squinted and turned his head, closing the shutter again.

“We’re here to make sure ye dinna die,” said Ethan.

“That’s right.” Logan started to put his feet back up on the bed, but noticed Hawke’s scowl and returned them to the floor. “Orrick and the girl were here with ye most of the night. Then we took over so they could get some sleep.”

“The girl?” he asked. “Was Phoebe here, too? Where is she? Ye were supposed to help me keep an eye on her since she’s our prisoner.”

“Dinna fash yerself,” said Ethan, shoving a sweetmeat into his mouth and throwing something that looked like real meat to both the dog and the wolf. “Caleb’s watchin’ her, so we’re guid.”

At that, the door burst open and Caleb hurried into the room, cradling something in his hands. “G’mornin’,” he said with a wide smile on his face.

“That depends,” said Hawke. “If ye’ve watched over the prisoner as instructed, then it’s a guid mornin’. If no’, someone has a lot of explainin’ to do.”

“Prisoner?” Caleb frowned. “Oh, if ye mean Phoebe, dinna worry about her. She’s in her chamber sleepin’ and there’s a guard at the door.” He opened his hands a little and peeked at something and then closed them again.

“Ye’re sure of it?”

“Aye,” answered Caleb. “I’m sure she’s tired after sittin’ up all night with the sorcerer talkin’ about herbs. They used some potion to heal ye.”

“Potion?” Ethan looked up and his eyes darted back and forth. “They didna do anythin’ . . . like . . . magic, did they? It’s said those spells can conjure the devil. A demon spirit can enter yer body and take control of yer soul.”

“Magic isna real and ye need to stop bein’ so superstitious,” grumbled Hawke as he got dressed. Ethan continued eating. Logan walked over and grabbed some food off the platter as well.

“I agree,” said Logan. “Ye need to stop bein’ such a scared wench, Ethan.”

“I’m no’ a scared wench. I just dinna want to tempt fate.”

“Well, ye dinna have to fash yerself about the devil enterin’ yer body,” said Hawke, pulling on a boot. “After all, there’s no room left in there for anythin’ since ye filled yer body with my food to break the fast.” Hawke walked over and looked down at the empty platter. Logan licked his fingers and Ethan threw the last of a crust of bread to his wolfhound. “Well, I hope one of ye at least thought to make sure Apollo was fed.”

Logan and Ethan looked at each other and shrugged.

“I saw Orrick and the girl feedin’ yer hawk,” said Caleb, opening his hands a little and peeking inside.

“What in the name of the clootie have ye got there?” asked Hawke, thinking Caleb was acting like a fool.

“Well,” said Caleb, sounding excited. “Ye ken how ye three are always tellin’ me I need a pet?”

“Aye,” said Logan. “What about it?”

“It so happens that this mornin’ I found one.”

“Ye have yer pet in yer hands?” asked Ethan. “It’s that small?”

“It’s perfect, I tell ye.” Caleb sounded excited. “I wanted somethin’ unique and I think I found it.”

“Quit actin’ so giddy and show us what ye’ve got,” grumbled Hawke.

“All right,” said Caleb, opening his hands to show them the rodent.

“A mouse?” Ethan and Logan started laughing uncontrollably.

“It’s no’ a mouse. It’s a vole,” said Caleb as if it mattered.