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“Across Tannochbrae land, aye?”

“Aye,” he agreed. “We spoke with many and determined a man did, indeed, lead the cattle across Tannochbrae land to Duncraig’s border.”

“And left the cattle there?”

“Aye.”

“Someone wished to incite a renewed feud between the clans?”

“Aye,” he agreed. “Though we were unable to discern who. Or why.”

“So that is what you plan to learn.”

Among other things. “I do. My brother”—he used the term loosely—“and I met already with the MacKinlay clan chief. We found nothing, but I will take up the cause once again.”

“Alice,” Maisie called to one of the serving girls. “Will you see to them please,” she asked, indicating two newcomers. Older gentlemen, thankfully. Though it was early for any traveler not staying at the inn, and clearly these two were not, since they entered through the front door.

She does not need your protection. Maisie has been running this inn successfully without you. And yet . . . .

“I will leave you to your morning duties,” he said. “I ride to Aberdale.”

“Without breaking your fast?”

He’d planned to do so, but being with Maisie affected him more than it should. He wanted to remain. To learn what the two gentlemen were about. To ensure MacBrannigan did not return. But It was not his place.

“I will take a bit of bread with me,” he said. “If you have it.”

Maisie smiled. “Freshly baked. I’ve the finest baker in all of Scotland,” she said.

“Indeed?” He returned her smiled. “Here at the Red Stag?”

“Do not mock me, sir. Taste it first.”

“I will happily do so.”

Thankfully, she did not pick up the double meaning.

With that, Maisie turned from him. Caught by the serving girl, Alice, watching Maisie retreat toward the kitchens, he looked away. Or attempted to, at least, but was distracted by the sway of her hips and a backside that was only hinted at through the kirtle.

Nay, It was not a good idea to return here this eve, but he would do so anyway.

7

Chapter

“I can finish here, my lady,” Cook said.

Maisie’s pigeon pies were one of the reasons the Red Stag Inn had thrived these past months despite her missteps.

“You are certain?” she asked the woman, who’d been cooking at the inn for many years and had finally convinced her to give over the duty of making these particular pies.

“Aye, I am,” she said, shooing away one of the kitchen girls who had come too close to her. Cook was excellent at her job, but very particular about her space.

“Very well,” Maisie said, wiping her hands on the apron before pulling it off. “I would ensure the rooms are clean for this eve anyway.”

Unfortunately, the morning had been taken by an unexpected problem in the stables. The door had come off its hinges somehow and Maisie had been forced to travel into the village to see the blacksmith herself. She really needed a new runner; the boy who been working for her since last summer had decided he no longer cared for the duty.

When she was his age, Maisie had not been able to choose her duties. The boy’s parents, certainly more indulgent than her own, had agreed to allow him to quit the inn and she’d not yet found a replacement.