Page 10

M acNeil Castle rose before them like a mountain of hewn stone, its massive walls and towers speaking of warfare and the need for constant vigilance. As they approached the gates, Lileas could see armed men on the walls, their weapons gleaming in the afternoon sun.

The gates stood wide open, and there was an unusual amount of activity in the courtyard. Word of their arrival seemed to have preceded them, and people were streaming out of various buildings to catch sight of their returning laird.

"Looks like word of the attack has reached them," Grant observed, noting the excited buzz of conversation that rose from the assembled crowd.

"Aye," Ewan replied grimly, his arm tightening protectively around Lileas as they rode through the gates. "And knowing my brother, he'll have heard every detail twice over by now."

As they passed through the massive gates and entered the main courtyard, servants and clan members alike pressed forward to get a better look at their laird.

"My laird!" called out several voices at once. "Thank the saints ye're safe!"

"Is it true the Fergusons tried to take yer lady wife?"

"How many of the bastards did ye kill?"

Ewan dismounted first, then immediately reached up to help Lileas down, his hands lingering at her waist in a gesture that spoke of both protection and possession.

Before Ewan could respond to any of the questions from the crowd, the keep's main doors burst open with enough force to rattle the iron hinges. Connor MacNeil stormed out with his characteristic thunderous expression, his dark hair disheveled and his clothes bearing evidence of recent outdoor work.

"About bloody time!" Connor shouted, his voice carrying across the entire courtyard and effectively silencing the excited chatter. "Do ye have any idea what I've been dealing with while ye were off getting yerself attacked by Ferguson scum?"

Connor was two years younger than Ewan but shared the same strong features, though where Ewan commanded through charisma, Connor ruled through sheer intimidation and barely contained fury at the world in general.

"Brother," Ewan began, but Connor cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"Dinnae 'brother' me," Connor snarled. "I've just spent the morning trying to stop Kenneth and Douglas from killing each other over a prize bull, the kitchen staff are at each other's throats over who used the last of the good flour, and half the clan has been pestering me about decisions I dinnae care about! "

He paused to take a breath, his chest heaving with the effort of controlling his legendary temper.

"I hate making decisions for other people.

I hate having them come to me with their problems, and I especially hate that ye left me in charge of this madhouse while ye went gallivanting off to an abbey! "

"The attack—" Ewan tried to interject.

"Aye, I heard about the attack!" Connor snapped. "I've already started doubling the watch, but ye need to make it official before someone gets themselves killed."

Ewan nodded, impressed despite himself by his brother's quick thinking. "Good. What else?"

"What else?" Connor's laugh was harsh and bitter. "The blacksmith's apprentice set fire to the forge yesterday, the bridge over MacBride's Stream needs repair before someone gets killed crossing it, and—"

He stopped mid-sentence, his dark eyes finally focusing on the woman standing close beside his brother. Very close, in fact. Ewan's arm was around her waist in a possessive gesture that was both protective and intimate, and she was leaning into his side as if she belonged there.

Connor's scowl deepened as he took in her travel-stained dress, her windblown hair, and the way she looked at Ewan with obvious trust and affection.

"And who might ye be, lass?" Connor asked, his voice dropping to the dangerously quiet tone that had made grown men reconsider their life choices. "Dinnae tell me ye're the troublesome MacDonald wench that took my brother away from his clan and forced me into the worst weeks of my life?"

Lileas straightened under his baleful glare, her chin lifting with stubborn pride.

After facing Ferguson raiders, one surly brother-in-law hardly seemed worth backing down from.

She opened her mouth to respond, probably with something that would have made the situation considerably worse, when the keep's main doors opened again.

"Connor MacNeil!" The voice was feminine, melodious, and carried the particular tone of a woman who was thoroughly exasperated. "Where are yer manners?"

A small whirlwind of energy burst from the doorway. She barely reached Connor's shoulder, with auburn hair that caught the afternoon light and bright green eyes that sparked with intelligence and humor.

Without ceremony, she planted both hands against Connor's broad chest and pushed him aside as if he were no more substantial than a wayward child. "Out of my way, ye grumpy dragon. Can ye not see the poor woman is exhausted from travel and probably half-frightened by yer scowling face?"

Connor grunted but allowed himself to be moved, though his scowl never wavered.

Instead of protesting the woman's high-handed treatment, he wrapped one large arm around her waist and pulled her back against his front, where she fit as perfectly as if she had been made for that exact purpose.

As he did, Lileas noticed the slight curve of Fiona's belly that spoke of a baby on the way, and Connor's large hand moved protectively to cover it in an unconsciously tender gesture.

He continued to glower at the world in general, but Lileas noted his hold on the woman was gentle, almost reverent.

The woman, for her part, seemed completely unimpressed by Connor's fearsome reputation. She ignored his possessive hold entirely, focusing her attention on Lileas with a warm smile.

"Ye must be Lileas," she said, her voice carrying genuine pleasure and relief. "Thank goodness ye've finally come home safely. I'm Fiona, Connor's wife, and I cannot tell ye how happy I am to meet ye at last. When we heard about the Ferguson attack, I feared the worst."

Lileas found herself staring at the woman who had just treated the legendary Connor MacNeil like an unruly pup, then at the man himself, who was glowering at everyone present while simultaneously holding his wife as if she were made of spun glass.

"Ye're Connor MacNeil?" Lileas asked, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. "I had heard... that is, yer reputation..."

"Aye," Connor replied curtly, his arm tightening protectively around Fiona. "The same Connor who's been running yer husband's keep while he was off collecting ye. And let me tell ye, lass, it's been no pleasure."

"Connor," Fiona snapped warningly, though she made no move to escape his possessive hold. "Be nice."

Connor grunted again, but subsided into sullen silence, apparently willing to endure his wife's scolding as long as she remained within arm's reach.

"I apologize for my husband's manners," Fiona continued, rolling her eyes at Connor's behavior. "He's been impossible to live with since Ewan left, and dealing with clan matters always makes him even more disagreeable than usual."

"I heard that," Connor muttered darkly.

"Ye were meant to," Fiona replied sweetly, patting his arm with absent affection. "Now then, Lileas, ye must be tired and hungry after such an ordeal. Let's get ye settled in yer chambers."

"Aye, but from now on ye will both have guards keeping watch over ye at all times," Ewan interrupted, his voice carrying the authority of a laird taking charge of his domain.

Both women looked as if they were about to object, but Connor gestured to two of Cameron's men who nodded and followed the women.

Once they were gone, the men retreated indoors to the council room to discuss matters privately.

Connor's expression grew even more grim. "What exactly do the Fergusons want with yer wife?"

"She's highly skilled in making uisge beatha ," Ewan replied grimly.

Connor raised a brow. "And from what I hear, she can also rain fire from the sky?"

"Aye, her mind is very sharp. Any clan would be lucky to have her."

"And what of ye, brother. Do ye feel lucky to have her?"

"I'll kill any man who tries to take her from me."

"Then we best guard her well."

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