Like bairns, the both of ye, he thought.
Caelan avoided his brothers the next morning, winding his way through the castle to the stables. To clear his mind, he needed to feel the wind on his face. He adored the stables behind the keep, which overlooked the hills whose tops were snow-covered and dotted with green. In those Highlands, the clan would hunt, fight, and trade.
He looked away, taking the stony path up to the stables. His stallion neighed in excitement as Caelan came into view. He reached into his satchel for the apples and carrots he had snuck from the kitchens, and offered him a ruby-red apple.
“Up for a ride?” he asked, stroking his long, black mane. The stallion whinnied, as though he thought his question was pointless.
“Mornin’ to ye, sire,” the stable hands said as they filed in. Caelan saddled his horse and rode away. He thought to go through the courtyard and the main gates to ensure that all was well before leaving. He also needed to have a few words with Brandon.
Just as he turned the corner, a small boy tripped on a stone before him and crashed to the ground. Caelan held his horse, meaning to help the squalling bairn. A lass ran from the door, her expression tinged with worry and concern.
Caelan’s stomach flipped at the sight of her. He wanted to believe it was hunger.
She fell to her knees and eased the boy into a sitting position. Her slender fingers parted the thick curtain of her blond hair to peer at his grazed knees.
Caelan looked away, stunned. He could only stand there and watch as she cared for the child,gently brushingthe boy's hair away from his eyes. Caelan's breath caughtas he noticed an exposed ankle.
Clearly, he was going mad.
“Eilidh! Did ye find him?”
Caelan snapped his head around, recognizing the voice. It was Cook. She was a rotund woman who sometimes forgot her place and treated Caelan and his brothers like her immature sons. Judging from the matching hair, the lad was her relative.
“Och, but I’ve looked everywhere for him! Ye troublesome bairn!” Cook exclaimed and gifted the crying lad a healthy knock to the head.
When Eilidh’s eyes turned dark, Caelan recalled she had lost a brother, but whatever she had wanted to say was cut short.
“Sire!” Cook cried. “Mornin’! Fine day for a ride, eh?”
He gave her a nod and a smile. “Mornin’ to ye, Cook.”
Eilidh hurried to her feet, dusting of her skirts. A smile bloomed on her pink lips.
“Go ahead,” Cook said before Eilidh could speak, “I’ll take this one inside. His mother owes him a lashing.”
Eilidh frowned but said nothing as Cook disappeared into the keep with the bairn in her arms. She walked over to him and said, “I finished the book, sire. I must say, I never thought a lass could be so… daring. And vicious.”
It took a moment for Caelan to compose himself. He filled the time by sliding off his mount.
“She was scorned, I reckon,” he replied. “Tis what happens when ye slight a lass.”
Eilidh tittered. “But she had her entire family killed over a squabble!”
“Heartbreak is nae asquabble. Remember… they banished her lover, only for her to discover that he was in cahoots with the villains all along, that he intended to steal her fortune! Can ye blame her?”
“Och, but he did so only to feed innocent women and children,” she returned, vehemently playing with her hair.
Caelan caught himself smiling at the fierceness in her eyes. “Ye’re right about the children, but the women mocked her loss, ye ken.”
She huffed an indignant breath. “Nae…”
“If ye agree with me,” he lilted, “I’ll give you another book tonight.”
She opened and closed her mouth, then narrowed her eyes. “More extortion, I see. ‘Tis below ye, sire, to dangle books before me and expect me nae to jump for them.”
Caelan appeared quite pleased at his own genius. “Do ye want the books or nae?”
She crossed her arms and nodded. “Ten books!”