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"But Jemmy—"
"Once the laird is gone, I will deal with Jemmy. But for now, I am the laird's obedient foster son and care only to fulfill his dying wish. 'Tis clear as glass, Calder."
"For you, maybe," Calder muttered.
"Aye, that's right. For me. As I said, these are dangerous times," he added, leaning on the fence beside Calder and squinting up at the sky. "A man needs to know who his friends are—and his enemies. Which one d'ye intend to be?"
"A friend, of course," Calder said with a smile that did not reach his eyes.
"Of course," Alistair agreed, noting the cold fury in the depths of Calder's gaze. "Then we'll say no more about it."
As he passed Calder's men he clapped the largest of them on the shoulder. "Next time you'll have to be a little faster," he said with a friendly grin.
The man did not return his smile. "Next time I will be."
Alistair laughed and walked away, but he had no doubt the man had meant it. Next time—and there would be a next time, of that he was quite sure—he would have to be that much quicker himself.
CHAPTER 3O
"I've never heard the like!" Alyson exclaimed as they sat in the hall that night, watching Ronan in the center of the floor. His hands moved over the harp strings as gently as a lover's, drawing forth a melody of piercing sweetness.
"Nor I," Jemmy said. "I don't imagine many people have."
Jemmy looked better tonight, Deirdre thought, with the lines of pain eased from his face and some color in his cheeks. When he smiled at Alyson she lit up like a flame. Deirdre was happy for her friend. Maybe now things would settle down here and Alyson could bear her child in peace.
Then Alistair took his seat beside Deirdre, and at once the table grew still. Malcolm, on Jemmy's other side, gave Alistair a miserable, bewildered look. Haddon Darnley stiffened. And the glow faded from Alyson, leaving her pale and weary. Only Jemmy seemed unaffected. He did not even acknowledge Alistair's presence as he gestured for a fresh goblet of wine and brought it to Ronan.
It was an honor, but though Ronan smiled and thanked him, he didn't look particularly grateful. But then, Ronan never did. He just accepted the cup as if it was his due and chatted easily with Jemmy without bothering to rise from his seat.
But when Jemmy returned to the table, he was smiling, obviously unoffended. "He has played at more royal courts than even I have seen. What luck to have him here."
"Luck?" Alistair muttered darkly, resting his chin in his palm. "Aye, well, there's all sorts of luck."
Deirdre glanced at him nervously, but his eyes were fixed on the center of the hall. Though she had seen him once or twice since Ronan arrived, he had not spoken a single word to her.
No doubt he was glad that Ronan had come, she thought. Now he would not have to even bother to arrange her escort to Donegal. Ronan had relieved him of his burden and he was free to stay here and wreak havoc among his kin.
Maybe Alyson was right about him after all, she thought, though she still could not quite believe it. He had been so different in the forest, so ready to help her when she needed him, content to take each day as it came. Laird of the Mist, she thought and blinked hard, remembering how he had annoyed her with his careless ways.
Now he was someone else entirely, a stranger with cold eyes and a ruthless edge to him, a man who frightened even those who had once loved him. Or was this who he had always been and she had been too blind to see it?
Once the meal was finished and the trestles taken down, Ronan stopped the pretty tunes he had been playing and sat without moving, waiting for the talk to cease. So commanding was his presence that the hall soon fell silent. He let the anticipation grow and build until every eye was fastened upon him, then he took his hands from the harp and began to sing without accompaniment. He sang to Deirdre as though no one else was present, the song he used to sing for her so long ago.
"Black, black, black
is the color of my true love's hair
Her face is something wondrous fair
Oh I love my love and well she knows
I love the ground whereon she goes."
His voice had deepened and grown in power since she'd heard it last. Not a person spoke, not a single foot shifted as he paused between the verses. They were all under his spell.
"Black, black, black
is the color of my true love's hair
