Page 36

Chapter

“ M ight I join you?”

Kieran had watched the English knight approach. Having finished his meal but reluctant to find his room with Maisie still about the hall, Kieran responded to the Englishman.

“Please,” he said, indicating the seat across from him. It was a wee table that would fit no more than two.

“Sir Reynard de Wycliffe,” the knight said, extending his hand.

“Kieran of Clan Duncraig.” Kieran shook Sir Reynard’s hand, both men’s grips firm.

“That was quite a display of skill,” the Englishman said, sitting. He took a sip of the ale that he had brought with him.

“My father”—he nearly choked on the title—“taught me well.”

“As did mine, and yet yours, with the sword, was extraordinary.”

Kieran had been told that many times. “I trained hard. And often.”

He could have said, I trained hard and often to prove my worth to my adopted family. And would have said as much, as Kieran had never before been embarrassed to have been the foster son to the chief of Clan Duncraig.

Until now.

“Even so.” The Englishman sat back. “She is vulnerable,” he said, perhaps noticing Kieran’s gaze had wandered to the innkeeper. She spoke with a serving girl, the one that MacBrannigan had pulled onto his lap.

“Indeed,” he agreed. “A woman, alone, running an establishment such as this. I’ve not heard of such a thing before.”

“Her husband became ill and passed last summer. Many have offered for her since, but she declines. I fear the man left her with an opinion of husbands that she may never be dissuaded from.”

“You’ve offered for her.”

It was a statement, not a question, but the Englishman answered anyway. “Many times.”

“I can easily ken why,” Kieran said. “She is quite capable. And beautiful.”

“Very much so. Maisie’s reputation precedes her. Protects her. But I fear one day she will be left without protection when a man such as MacBrannigan presses his suit without regard for her wishes.”

Kieran peeled his eyes away from her and settled on Sir Reynard. “How does an Englishman come to travel these parts so often to know the innkeeper as well as you do?”

“My sister is married to a MacKenzie. We are quite close. Twins, in fact.”

“MacKenzie. They are allies to my clan.”

“And an enemy to MacBrannigan. I’d gladly have challenged him today.”

“Most are enemies to Clan MacBrannigan. Their chief knows little how to retain allies.”

“It seems at least one of their chieftains follows suit.”

“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.

Reynard sat back, smiling. “Ahh, so your training. The swordsmanship. You are the son of a clan chief with much to prove.”

“Of sorts,” he said. The Englishman clearly did not realize how accurate his words truly were. Again, he glanced at Maisie. She seemed to sense his gaze and looked back at him just then. Reluctant to turn away, he did not. Reynard noticed.

“It seems her admiration is matched.” Reynard tossed up his hands. “Defeated by a chief’s son. I will no longer press my suit in regards to the fair Maisie.”

Kieran turned from her, smiling. “Do not give up on my account. As I said, I’ve much to accomplish and courting a woman is not in my near future.”

“Not even one as comely—and capable, as you say—as she?”

“Nay,” Kieran insisted. But he did raise his tankard into their air. “Though I will toast to a new friend, even one as English as you.”

Reynard laughed good-naturedly. “As often as I travel this far north, I’d not turn away an ally such as you. Am glad for it, in fact.”

“As am I,” Kieran said truthfully. He would need all the allies he could gather, not knowing which were truly his friends or foes for the first time in his life.