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“Ye mean Arne MacLeod?” Struan asked.

“Aye, that’s him. The same one that pulled Lady Raven from the shipwreck,” Kirkwood supplied.

Struan’s fists flexed at his sides as he took in the information. Eventually, he said, “So, this bairn is at the MacLeod’s castle, and so is she, is that what ye’re tellin me?”

“Aye, melaird,” Kirkwood replied stolidly.

“I suppose ’tis too much tae hope that ye ken the bairn’s name?”

“’Tis Thorsten, melaird.”

“Thorsten, eh? Have ye called off the search?”

“Aye, melaird.”

“All right, ye can get out,” Struan told him, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. “I’ll tell ye when I need ye again.”

“Aye, melaird.” Kirkwood turned and let himself out.

“We’ve got her, Jethro,” Struan said now he and his right-hand man were alone. He started to pace, his brow furrowed with thought, punching his palm with his fist.

“Seems like it,” his captain agreed.

“Aye, and the other pieces of the puzzle are startin’ tae fall intae place. Raven’s been clever, the wee vixen. I thought at first she was headin’ fer the mainland when she got away last time, but now I think she was deliberately headin’ fer Harris,” he said. “The ship breakin’ up just there was just a coincidence. She ended up exactly where she wanted tae go in the first place.”

“Aye. And it seems like she had good reason tae go there as well,” his captain put in gruffly.

“Aye. I told ye when I got her back almost three years ago that she was different, did I nae?”

“Aye, ye did,” Jethro nodded.

“She had marks on her belly and thighs she didnae have before.” He shook his head.”

“Seems like too much of a coincidence that she left the whorehouse with a bairn, and then one suddenly turns up at the MacLeods’ castle gate shortly after,” Jethro put in.

“Exactly. If it was her that left it there, then why would she dae that? She could have left it anywhere, at the kirk or with the healer or somethin’.”

“And why is Arne MacLeod raisin’ the bairn as his son?” his captain asked.

“That’s just what I’m wonderin’ mesel’. Certainly not out of the kindness of his heart, me thinks.”

A sound came out of Jethro then that could have been a laugh but sounded more like an unoiled, badly rusted iron door opening after a long period of misuse. “I think we can safely assume who’s the bairn’s daddy,” he said.

“Aye, and I’m lookin’ forward tae slittin’ the bastard from his neck tae his gizzard,” Struan replied darkly. “Ach, Jethro, I’ve waited a long time fer this. But now I’ll get me reckonin’ at last. Raven’s gonnae pay fer makin’ me a laughingstock fer the rest of her life, and that may be a lot shorter than she thinks. After she watches her bairn die first, of course.”

The two friends shared a laugh as jagged and soulless as smashing glass. When they had recovered, Jethro said in his gravelly voice, “The MacLeods are a powerful clan, Struan. They’ve already lied tae shield Lady Raven’s presence at their stronghold. If ye’re plannin’ an attack on them tae get her back and get the bairn too, it’ll nae be easy. There’s three braithers left after that one got hissel’ killed a few years back?—”

Struan’s head jerked up. “Jaysus, Jethro, I’d forgotten about that! Ye’ve just made me think of somethin’,” he crowed animatedly. Jethro cocked an inquiring eyebrow that was bisected by a long, thin scar that ran up onto his shaved scalp. “

“Thor. That was his name.”

Light broke over the war leader’s face, and grimace that passed for a grin appeared, revealing sharp, yellow teeth. “Thor? Thorsten?” he rumbled in his deep voice.

“The bairn’s named after his dead uncle!”

“That’s very touchin’” Jethro said, nodding.

“Aye, and the wee bastard’ll be followin’ his uncle tae the grave before long,” Laird MacDonald said with a nasty laugh.