Page 59 of A Dangerous Highland Affair

“Oh, much the same,” said Lorcal, modestly. “I’m up there most the time, helping out the laird an’ all, that keeps me busy… in fact, ye were lucky I was even in… I spend most o’ my days up at his lordship’s keep now!”

“That’s braw!” exclaimed Teasag.

Lorcal beckoned her over to the table, where a hastily assembled meal of bone soup lay in wait.

Sampling the bone-meal broth, Teasag’s mind suddenly flitted back to the meal at the brigand’s village, causing her face to cloud with shame.

“What is it?” Lorcal asked as she poised over her spoon. “Is it nae good?”

“What, noo, it’s braw,” said Teasag, distractedly putting down the soup spoon with a clatter. “It’s just, ah, I already ate,” she added, thinking about the fine fare at the thieves table and feeling her cheeks burning at how she had even partaken of any of it.

Of course, she had not known what they were at the time but finding the poster of him like that had proven it.

Teasag chewed her lip and tried to find the appetite within her to taste more of her brother’s soup, but she was finding it hard. Not only had she eaten her fill already—in ways of more than one.

“Aye, I’m busy up at the castle,” repeated Lorcal, looking at her closely. “I could put in a word for ye if ye want a job there?”

It was a kind offer, but it had the unintended consequence of making Teasag squirm in her seat. So far, she had not told anyone else about her plans to become a painter.

Anyone apart from Neacal. A jolt ran through Teasag’s heart once more as she thought about him.

Try as she might, she couldn’t find it within her to loathe him, even after what she had found out.

Inside her heart, she felt sure that it must be a mistake. All she had wanted was for Neacal to explain to that she was wrong. But in the back of her head was a little voice nagging her, what if it was true?

Indeed, the rogues’ village they had created in the wilderness didn’t exactly prove his innocence. And then there had been the incident with the women on the road to Blackness.

The fact was, try as she might, there was no angle which Neacal didn’t look suspicious. “Um, I’m nae sure,” said Teasag, uncertainly.

Lorcal looked at her oddly. “Well, if yer sure, och, doesnae this mean ye’ve got something to tell me?” he asked, his pale blue eyes shining keenly at her.

Teasag saw the look he was giving her and shook her head, smilingly. “Och, I’m nae getting wed, if that’s what ye mean!” she said, shutting down that discussion before it even started.

Lorcal looked crestfallen before adding. “Well, we’re quite the odd pair, aren’t we?” he said, raising his glass to her and bringing their cups together with a chink. “Cheers here’s to the bachelor life…an’ being an auld maid!”

“Wheesht!” said Teasag, playfully, knocking him with her elbow. “Enough o’ the auld maid…!”

“Who says I was talking about ye?” said Lorcal, teasingly. He brought his whisky quaich close to hers and refilled them both. “Maybe it’s me who’s the auld maid!”

At this, he made a grab at Teasag’s caul, poking out from her travel sack. He placed it over the top of his flattened straw hair, pulling a hag’s face.

Teasag could not help but guffaw, and for a few minutes, the pair of them collapsed into laughter, relaxing back into the warmth of the hearth.

Then, for a few minutes, Lorcal seemed to go quiet. Spying her chance to find out more, Teasag inquired innocently about the castle.

“So then, tell me everything ye can about the world! What’s going on in the clan since I was here last? What’s it like up at the keep?”

Teasag looked at her brother keenly, hoping he might shed some light on the strange village in the middle of the forest. However, something inside her warned not to give him too many details.

“Well, it’s a funny auld business, ye might have heard, I dinnae ken, about the laird’s auldest counselor an’ right-hand man being found dead?” he piped up, looking thoughtful as they both sat, staring into the flames in the grate.

“Aye, I did,” said Teasag directly. “An’ he wasn’t the only one, too, by all accounts?”

She raised her eyebrow as if in a question, but both of them knew that it was a statement of fact.

“Nae, he wasnae, indeed,” said Lorcal, looking grim. The odd thing is no-one can see any rhyme or reason to them. The only thing linking them together is that they happened in the clan, an’ they are all men o’ some prestige… an’…”

Lorcal’s eyes broke off from the fire to meet hers fully.