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“More than one,” Kieran said.

Maisie looked their way, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Turning from them then, she hurried to the other side of the hall to speak with a group of men so fearsome looking that most ladies would have run in the opposite direction.

But not Maisie.

“She’s not looked at me that way,” the Englishman said, “in all the times I’ve been here.”

Kieran had no inclination to dally with the innkeeper, despite her beauty. He was here for one purpose only, and it did not include being distracted by a woman. Not even one as fair as she.

“It matters not,” he said, grabbing his tankard of ale.

“Nay?”

“Nay.”

“An expert swordsman. And honorable man. I am glad to know you, Kieran of Duncraig.”

Kieran quite liked the knight, despite the fact that he was English. He had been prepared to defend Maisie even though she’d rebuffed him, more than once it seemed. “And I you, Sir Reynard.”

“Reynard,” he said, giving Kieran leave to use his given name, sans titles.

“And I, simply Kieran.”

Reynard nodded in acknowledgment of the exchange. “How long do you lodge here?”

“It depends,” Kieran said. “I’ve business with Clan MacKinlay.”

“Less than a half day’s ride from here.”

“Aye.”

Thankfully, the knight did not ask what sort of business, as he would be reluctant to speak of it with a stranger. Even one who seemed, on the surface, an honorable man.

“Tales of the recent cattle incident and a renewed war between MacKinlay and Duncraig have reached MacKenzie. I’ve come from there on my way back south.”

That did not surprise him. “What sort of tales?” Kieran asked, wondering how much truth, or otherwise, had traveled among these parts.

“That MacKinlay cattle was found grazing on Duncraig land. Even an Englishman like me knows of the Battle of Black Friars.”

At the mention of it, Kieran’s fists clenched. For one not easily incited to anger, it seemed he’d formed an exception these past days. To think, all these years, he’d misjudged the enemy in that battle.

“That was many years ago,” he managed.

“It was,” Reynard agreed. “And when Duncraig’s warriors killed all thirty of MacKinlay’s men, at the behest of the king who wished to end their feud, the battle served its purpose.”

And when Duncraig’s warriors killed all thirty of MacKinlay’s men.

“Until?” he prompted, not wanting to extend the silence to give life to his thoughts.

“Until MacKinlay cattle were found grazing on Duncraig land. ‘Tis said the chief’s son stormed MacKinlay’s keep demanding answers to avoid renewing the feud.”

He sighed. ‘Twould be difficult to avoid revealing himself now. “Sons,” he said. Although the word was a lie, Kieran had not known it. “Duncraig’s sons, though they dinnae storm the keep. They simply gained entry and inquired as to the roving cattle.”

“You recall it with the authority of a man present at such a meeting.”

Kieran stole a glance at Maisie. She’d moved on from the men, a good thing, and was now speaking to an older woman, one of very few in the hall.

“I am the son of the chief of Duncraig.” Except, he wasn’t. Kieran had only thought as much for his entire adult life, since he was nine, in fact. But that he kept to himself. “The second son,” he said, giving his brother his due even if Niall did not deserve it. And that, of all the revelations he’d learned these past days, was the most difficult to ken.