Page 13 of Farlan (Immortal Highlander Clan McKeran #3)
Chapter Five
T he nudge of a boot roused Farlan, waking him from a sleep so deep he couldn’t remember his own name for a long moment.
Then everything that had happened came back to him in a rush as he shoved himself upright and got to his feet.
The passage with the entry to the spell trap had rebuilt itself, and instead of a pile of impassable rubble the clan’s war master stood over him, his brows raised. Grace, however, was nowhere in sight.
“You choose strange spots to take your ease,” Alec said, handing him his trews. “Didnae you think to use the hidden tunnel to escape?”
“The passage wall collapsed in the night. I couldnae dig my way out to reach it.” As he dressed Farlan breathed in the faint, winter fire scent of the woman who had given him everything he could ever want last night.
He turned around to assure she was no longer there before he demanded, “What did you with my lady?”
“Naught.” The war master’s handsome yet ever stern features lit with amusement. “You owe me a week of watch duty, Darro.”
The chieftain grunted as he came out of the shadows with a torch. “Och, so I do. Dinnae gloat.”
Farlan glared at them both as he yanked on his boots. “You wagered on her?”
“On you, Brother, and how you’d refer to that incomparable beauty who shared your confinement,” Alec corrected. “She’s the reason you didnae attempt dig your way out, eh?”
Darro gave Farlan a disgusted look. “I reckoned you yet had some honor. You couldnae keep your arse laced for a single night, you trifling eejit?”
Although the chieftain was the second-largest man among his brothers, and could pound any man into the floor with one fist, Farlan grabbed the front of his tunic and shook him.
“Tell me where I may find Grace,” he demanded, “or I shall pull down a wall on your skull.”
The chieftain grinned in his face. “So you like her, then.”
“Calm yourself, Seneschal,” Alec told him.
“The laird’s wife accompanied Mistress Johansen to the great hall so she might meet with our chatelaine, who she claims as kin.
Olivia joined them, too. She’s well and safe with our ladies.
Lady Ava wishes you to come to the hall and report to the laird at once. ”
As Farlan released him and ran for the stairs Darro called after him, “You forgot your tartan, eejit.”
Running through the stronghold like some thief caught filching didn’t concern Farlan; all he cared about was his lady.
Of course Grace was not yet his by declaration; such he could first imply by his escorting her to his rooms in the garrison hall.
Or he could kiss her in front of the clan, which would suffice as proof of their mutual affection.
If she still wishes to be with me, his conscience muttered.
The laird’s wife would no doubt have introduced her to her grandmother, and both of them would likely reveal to Grace all that he had neglected to mention about life at Dun Talamh.
By now she knew that she could choose another lover from among his brothers, or even seek a husband among their vassals during the binding ceremony on the morrow.
When the men look upon her they shall fight to kneel at her feet, and that will frighten her even more than being imprisoned in Dun Talamh with us.
In the archways leading into the great hall stood dozens of guards and vassals staring at the scene before them.
He pushed his way through the throng and saw his lover standing with the laird’s wife and Olivia before one of the hearths.
Lady Ava was speaking to her while Alec’s wife watched her face, her expression anxious.
For Olivia to grow nervous meant something dire had occurred.
“Gods, for such a beauty to become trapped with us,” one of the youngest carpenters murmured. “And just before the binding ceremony.”
A kitchen maid scowled at him. “She’ll no’ choose a stripling like you, lad. Wenches like her demand the best of the best.”
Farlan ignored them as he watched Grace.
She held a cup in her hands, so tightly her knuckles had whitened, and yet her expression appeared entirely bland.
Her show of composure seemed to fool everyone but Ava, who like him was watching her closely.
Not much escaped the laird’s wife, who had been a law woman in her time.
What did they do to put her in such a state?
He knew only that he couldn’t stand to see her like this, and that decided the matter for him.
He’d go to her, and take her to his work room, where he could reassure her and allow her to rest. Much as he wanted her, he resolved not to put his hands on her again.
Only what should he do if she desired him?
Already his blood was heating up, simply looking at her.
“The newcomer, she’s a true beauty,” Tasgall said as he came to stand beside him. With one glance he sent all of the vassals around them to scatter. “What happened in the night?”
The laird had to repeat his question before Farlan wrenched his attention from Grace and made his report.
“A maid came to me and claimed a floor shook beneath her slippers. When I went to inspect the passage, Grace—Mistress Johansen—crossed the threshold of the trap, and a wall collapsed on us. We were trapped until dawn.” He took a step toward his lover, but the laird caught his arm. “She’s frightened. Let me go to her.”
“She’s with my lady, who shall set her at ease. We’ve pressing matters to discuss.” Tasgall tugged him away from the arch. “Walk with me.”
Farlan bit back a curse as he accompanied the laird to his chamber.
There he went to light the hearth to keep the morning chill from plaguing Tasgall, whose mortal weakness made him turn to stone in any cold.
Once he had the fire started, he turned to see the laird pouring whiskey into two cups.
Frustration and worry for Grace filled him with such tension he considered stalking out .
“I dinnae need a drink,” he told him.
“Gods ken I do.” The laird lifted one of the cups toward him in a toast, which he drained with a few swallows before sighing.
“Inga sent a message, that summoned her granddaughter. Now we ken that such may work.” He refilled his cup.
“But we must hope that others ’twerenae sent, for they serve only to ensnare yet another in our trap.
” He fixed Farlan with a gaze. “What caused that collapse?”
Distracted from his thoughts, he rubbed his eyes. “I reckon ’twas a quake. Naught more could do such damage so quickly.”
Tasgall’s expression grew doubtful. “The one plaguing us of late with these insect attacks could be capable of such. A spell cast to shake the walls of the stronghold, then?”
“If the bastart wishes to find the treasure he seeks, the last thing he’d wish is burying it under the rubble.
” He didn’t want to tell the laird what he suspected, yet if that were true, something worse would soon besiege them.
“We’ve already seen changes to the cycle of events.
The bespelled creatures sent to attack us could be somehow damaging the enchantment that’s held us imprisoned. ”
“Fack.” The laird dragged a hand over his face. “Why would you reckon ’tis that?”
“The passage wall that collapsed, ’twas damaged by a flood and then a freeze the year before the curse,” Farlan said.
“Many of the stones had cracks in them before we were cast into this place. I recall a dozen other places in the keepe with the same defects. ’Twas my fault.
I’d planned to replace them in the summer, but then the MacBren began his campaign against us. ”
“I ordered you to find ways to safeguard the vassals during his attacks, so I share the blame.” Tasgall sighed. “The enchantment shallnae permit you to replace the weakened stones. Can you do anything more to prevent new collapses?”
“Adding support struts, backfill to the old cracks and placing some anchor stones should prevent the passage from caving in again, my lord,” he assured him. “I shall gather a few lads and what we’ll need for the work, and begin today.”
“Ask Olivia to join you, for restoring old structures, ’twas her work in the outside world. She may ken a modern method to aid you.” The laird studied his face for a moment. “The other matter, ’tis Mistress Johansen.”
Farlan stiffened. “What of her?”
“Never did I behold such a woman,” Tasgall said, his tone turning rueful now. “All that dazzling beauty. Yet when Ava first brought her to the hall I thought her Inga, and barely gave her a glance. I even bid her prepare some of her pea soup for the ceremony feast.”
“You adore your wife,” he reminded him, relaxing a little. “Tis blinded you to all others.”
“Aye, she owns my heart.” The laird tapped his chest with his fist. “When Ava bid me join them, only then did I take a proper look at the lady. I near stumbled over my own tongue, greeting her proper.”
That Grace’s beauty could affect the most stoic of the McKeran boded nothing good for Farlan’s chances to claim her as his own.
“She claimed Inga as her kin to me last night.” Why hadn’t he roused with her?
Why had she left without waking him, for that matter?
Had he hurt her last night? They’d hardly slept for wanting each other.
No, she had welcomed every touch of his.
Or did she regret giving herself to him?
He truly would drive himself mad, wondering. “How did she seem to you?”
“Mistress Johansen’s cooler-headed than a truce arbiter.” He glanced at Farlan. “What concerns you about the lady?”
Tasgall wouldn’t demand details on exactly what had happened during the night.
At the same time as the head of the clan he was owed an explanation of why his seneschal would make a newcomer his lover before anyone else had met her.
Likewise Farlan knew he’d tell him how oddly she had behaved, pushing him away one moment and throwing herself at him the next.
His strongest instinct, however, was to protect Grace.