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“Nae, tis naething like that. I missed the feast and I went to the kitchen to find Iona. But I saw an unfamiliar man there.”

“Describe him,” Arran urged.

He did, his lips twisting in annoyance at having to recall the man’s dratted face.

“Ach, but that was Logan! A friend of mine. How could ye nae recognize him?”

Caelan stared at him for a second, puckering his lips. “I recognized him, but ye have many friends. How the blazes am I supposed to remember all o’ their names?” He faced Evan. “And why’d ye allow this new occupant in when we still dinnae ken who’s running around the castle after dark? I almost went for his head.”

His brothers wore identical, confused expressions.

“I dinnae understand,” Evan started. “Ye dinnae want guests?”

Caelan shuffled his feet, running his hands through his hair. “I mean… I was surprised. ‘Tis a big surprise! That’s all I’m sayin’. We should discuss these things. I cannae be makin’ a damned fool of myself.”

“Ye made a fool of yerself?” Evan repeated. Arran’s face cleared and his eyes creased in a smile. Caelan despised that look.

“Nae. Anyway, I’ll be off now—”

“Wait!” Arran called. “What was Logan doin’ in the kitchens?”

Caelan would have much rather preferred not to answer the question, and Arran knew it. “I’m nae in the man’s mind. I cannae ken!”

Evan smirked. “Was he, perhaps, with a certain lass?”

“Why is Logan here?” Caelan asked loudly, cutting off Arran before he opened his mouth to add more. “What about his family?”

The twinkle in Arran’s blue orbs couldn’t have been brighter. “He’s nae married. Hewasdue to marry an heiress years ago. I dinnae ken what separated them. Ye ken, he’ll be here for months. A lot can happen in that time. My friend never wastes time when he fancies somethin’.”

“So?”

“So, he might’ve not married the heiress, but lasses fall very easily for his charms.”

“Seemed to me he was quite interested in Eilidh,” Evan said. “Dabria introduced them.”

“Why would she introduce a maid to a guest that fast?” Caelan quipped before he could stop himself.

Evan’s bushy eyebrows drew together. “Is that all she is to you? A meremaid?”

“What else should she be?”

“Are we talkin’ about the same lass who has always taken care of yer battle wounds and stuck by yer side? The one ye’ve been teachin’ to read?” Arran asked.

“She has nae family. Am I nae allowed to be nice to a lass?”

“Nice?” his brother asked again. “And that’s all there is to it?”

“That is all. Since we have that cleared up, can I go now?”

“Ye’re makin’ a mistake, brother. That lass is clever and bonnie. She makes ye happy. Yes, I have seen the way ye smile when she’s around. It bears repeating that ye will lose her to men like Logan if ye continue down this bullheaded path.”

“Clever, yes. Bonnie, certainly. But those dinnae change the fact that she was born to a lady of pleasure. She doesnae even know her faither! She’s a common maid that works for us, for heaven’s sake! Just let me be and stop yer whingin’.”

Evan’s scowl deepened. “ I ken, but—"

Caelan backtracked. “It worked for you, brother. But love has nae place in my life. If I’m to marry, I will marry well. An’ speaking bluntly, yer wife turned out to be an English laird’s sister.” When neither brother said a word, Caelan jerked his head to the side. “I’m goin’ to patrol the halls and make more enquiries about the intruder they spied days ago. One of us must be vigilant.”

Once out of sight, Caelan took a detour to the armory instead. On the table, he set down his sword. The walls were lined with all sorts of silver blades. Each one was crested with the family’s insignia. Armors lined the hall, enough to suit one hundred men—Evan liked to be prepared.


Tags: Fiona Faris Historical