25: STRUCK BY LIGHTNING

“THAT’S IT, I yield!”

Breathing hard, Kerr threw down his practice sword and raised his hands in surrender.

Around them, the warriors looking on cheered.

Lennox scowled. He wasn’t ready to stop yet.

He still had energy to burn.

The muscles in his shoulders and arms were on fire, and he was starting to stagger, yet he wasn’t tired enough.

Kerr flashed him a rueful look.

His brother’s face gleamed with sweat; he’d pulled his shaggy hair back with a leather thong, yet strands had come free, sticking to his cheeks.

They’d fought a long while, the dull thud of their bound blades carrying through the barmkin.

The fight had gone on so long that, eventually, Brodie had ceased work in his forge and emerged to watch, along with the stable hands.

Their youngest brother lounged against a cart of hay, brawny arms folded across his chest. He wore a thick leather blacksmith’s apron, coated with soot and ash.

Catching Lennox’s eye, Brodie cocked an eyebrow.

“Ye are scrappy today, Len,” he observed drily.

“Is something amiss?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Lennox grunted, wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm.

“I was in the mood for a good fight, that’s all.”

“A good fight?” Kerr snorted.

His brother was bent double now, hands braced on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

“Ye went at me like a berserker.”

“Aye,” Brodie drawled.

“Ye looked as if ye were trying to work off some frustration … what’s the matter, tight balls?”

This comment brought roars of laughter from the warriors and stable hands still gathered around them.

Lennox’s jaw clenched.

“All right,” he muttered.

“The spectacle’s over.”

“Ye heard him,” Kerr said, straightening up, his own mouth twitching as he fought mirth.

“Get back to yer posts, lads.”

The crowd dispersed, leaving Lennox and Kerr still standing in the midst of the barmkin.

Brodie hadn’t moved either from his indolent position against the hay cart.

Lennox scowled at him.

“Don’t ye have work to do?”

Brodie nodded, although he still didn’t move.

Lennox’s lip curled.

He wasn’t in the mood to be heckled by his brother.

Brodie had always been the most observant of the four of them, the quietest who said little but saw much.

He’d been crude about it, as men were wont to be—but he wasn’t wrong.

Frustration boiled within Lennox this afternoon.

If only Davina hadn’t waited for him outside the kirk.

He’d done well at avoiding her over the past two weeks.

After his realization on the eve of their arrival, about how deep his feelings actually ran when it came to Davina Campbell, he’d buried himself in his new role and succeeded in shoving his disappointment to the back of his mind.

He’d even congratulated himself on his self-discipline.

No woman would bring him to his knees.

But as they’d walked together away from the kirk, he’d found himself wanting to talk to Davina as he once had.

It had been a while since he’d sparred with her, and he’d longed to see those luminous grey-blue eyes spark and her chin lift as she answered him.

Aye, he’d misse d her—and the knowledge vexed him.

He thought he’d managed to purge Davina from his thoughts, but the truth was, he still wanted her.

Turning away from Brodie, he grabbed a drying cloth and swiped it along his bare arms. Like Kerr, he was dripping with sweat after that swordfight.

The clatter of hooves entering the barmkin made him turn then, his gaze alighting upon the knot of horses approaching.

At their head rode a cloaked man with long brown hair seated astride a heavy, feather-footed cob.

The new arrival’s gaze settled upon the brothers, and his bearded face split into a grin.

“Lennox, ye are back!”

Forgetting his sour mood, Lennox’s own mouth stretched into a wide smile.

“I was wondering when we’d be graced with yer presence, Kyle.”

The bailiff swung down from his horse.

He then strode over to Lennox, and the two of them clasped arms in greeting.

Kyle MacAlister was a tall and rangy man with a quick gaze and a ready smile.

He’d grown up hunting, fishing, and fighting with the Mackay brothers, yet he and Lennox had always been the closest.

Kyle glanced over at Kerr then.

“It’s been too long since my last visit,” he admitted, his smile turning apologetic.

“We’ve been getting the harvest in … and we had some ewes lamb late this year.”

Kerr shrugged.

“The laird won’t care about that … just as long as the rents are collected. The king gets twitchy if the clan-chiefs pay their dues late.”

“Aye, James needs coin to fund his campaign against the Douglases,” Lennox replied, frowning.

Kerr muttered something under his breath about the king using them to pay for his wars, while Brodie scowled.

Kyle pulled a face, making it clear that he agreed with their sentiments before he nodded to where heavy sacks of coin hung from the back of his saddle.

“I’ve managed to collect a large portion of the rents … although some are still outstanding.” His brow furrowed then as he met Lennox’s eye once more.

“Any advice on how to get them to pay up?”

Lennox snorted.

“It’s difficult if folk have no coin to give. Nonetheless, I’ve got a few tricks … shall I share them with ye over an ale or two?”

Kyle grinned, slapping Lennox on the shoulder.

“Aye … it’s good to have ye back, lad.” He then gestured to the coin sacks.

“But that ale will have to wait … I’d better get these rents to Iver.”

Lennox nodded before tossing the sweaty drying cloth he’d been using to Brodie.

“He’s up in his solar this afternoon, doing the accounts … come on, I’ll take ye to him.”

“The bailiff has arrived,” Sheena Mackay announced as she entered the ladies’ solar.

Both Davina and Bonnie glanced up from their sewing.

“Where is Kyle now?” Bonnie asked.

“He’s meeting with Iver and Lennox.” Sheena moved across to one of the high-backed chairs before the flickering hearth and picked up the embroidery she’d been working on.

“Apparently, he’s had trouble collecting rents from a few tenants.”

“I’m not surprised,” Bonnie replied with a sigh.

“The rents have gone up. Iver told me the king has demanded a larger tax this year … to fund his push against the Douglases.”

Davina’s mouth thinned at this news.

Taxes were already high.

Despite that her father was a steadfast supporter of the Stewarts, even he grumbled about them.

He’d told her that James’s father had nearly bankrupted the country with his high taxes and extravagant lifestyle, although his son had been more moderate in his demands—until now.

“What happens if Niel Mackay can’t pay the king in full?” Bonnie asked, her gaze widening.

Sheena’s expression turned grim.

“The crown will send in its debt collectors … and they’ll take whatever assets they need to repay the debt.”

“Aye,” Davina muttered.

“Some clan-chiefs are forced to hand over land … and they often take it from the chieftains responsible for the shortfall.”

Bonnie’s pretty face paled at this, and she hurriedly cast aside her sewing.

“I’d better go to them … they will be needing refreshment.”

Davina tensed at Bonnie’s discomfort.

She hadn’t wanted to frighten her, but it was easy to forget that Bonnie hadn’t grown up in their world.

Raised as a servant within the walls of Stirling Castle, she’d never had to worry about paying rent, or the consequences of overdue taxes that many a clan-chief faced.

“There’s no need for ye to go,” Davina said, jumping up.

As always, she was keen to make herself useful.

“Ye stay here and finish that léine … I’ll fetch the men some wine.”

Bonnie frowned.

“Are ye sure? I’m—”

“Of course. I need to get up and stretch my legs anyway.”

Leaving the ladies’ solar, Davina made her way downstairs to the kitchen, where she fetched a tray of clean cups and a ewer of plum wine.

As always, the kitchen was a hive of industry.

Cory sweated copiously as he stirred batter for the blaeberry cakes to be served with the noon meal, while around him, the two lads who assisted him chopped vegetables and filled pastry cases.

Sunday was a special day, and judging from the toothsome aromas drifting through the kitchen, this meal would be especially delicious.

Davina brought the tray upstairs, navigating the narrow stone steps to the first floor and crossing the landing to the chieftain’s solar.

She then knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Iver’s voice reached her.

Pushing the door open with her back, Davina entered.

There were three men present.

Iver, Lennox, and a tall, lanky man of a similar age to the brothers.

He had long, wind-blown brown hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and twinkling green eyes, and his gaze snapped to her immediately.

Pretending not to notice, Davina glanced over at the laird.

“I’ve brought ye some wine.”

“Thank ye, Davina,” Iver greeted her.

Seated at his desk by the window, a large leatherbound book before him and two small sacks of coin open, the chieftain of Dun Ugadale appeared to be in the midst of counting his rents and checking them off in his ledger.

He’d need to send them to his clan-chief soon.

Davina remembered her father busy this time of year with the same task, for the king liked to have his taxes delivered by Yuletide.

Moving to the sideboard, Davina began pouring the wine.

“I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of being introduced,” the bailiff said then.

Davina glanced up to find the man observing her.

Next to him, Lennox’s expression was shuttered.

“Davina Campbell,” Lennox said after a brief pause.

“May I introduce ye to Kyle MacAlister … Iver’s new bailiff.”

“It’s a pleasure, my lady,” MacAlister said, his mouth curving into a warm smile.

He looked as if he wanted to step forward and take her hand, but the fact she was busy with the wine prevented him.

That came as a relief to Davina.

She had no wish to encourage suitors.

When each cup was poured, she handed them out—the first to Iver, and then to Lennox and MacAlister.

But when she passed Lennox his wine, their fingers accidentally brushed.

The pulse of heat that passed through Davina made her swallow a gasp.

Her gaze jumped to his.

The pupils of Lennox’s eyes had widened, revealing that he too had felt it.

Their hands hadn’t touched since their arrival at Dun Ugadale, and during the days that followed, Davina had told herself that her attraction for Lennox would fade, given time.

But that touch had revealed the truth: the pull between them was still as strong as before.

She knew it, and now so did he.

Davina’s heart started to pound.

Heaven help her, this was ill news.

She already filled her days with tasks, but maybe she needed to keep even busier—anything to resist the desire that quickened within her.

Fingers tingling, she stepped away and handed Kyle MacAlister his wine.

She then departed the solar without another word.

Lennox watched Davina go, his heart bucking against his ribs.

God’s blood. He felt as if he’d just been struck by lightning.

His whole body was tingling in the aftermath of that light brush of the fingers, his gut had clenched, and he’d started to sweat.

Davina had felt it too, he was sure of it, for she’d briefly met his eye, her expression startled.

But she’d composed herself swiftly before leaving the solar with her usual self-possession.

Aye, she was still attracted to him—but that mattered not.

She knew as well as him that the heady lust they shared could get them both into trouble.

She’d made her choice, and one thing he’d learned about Davina Campbell was that she was a woman with an iron will.

Once she set her mind on something, she wouldn’t be swayed.

It was the right decision …

for us both, he told himself, refusing to give in to the longing that gnawed at his gut.

Aye, he’d earned a reprieve when she’d spurned his offer.

He didn’t need a wife.

Indeed, he should make a trip to Ceann Locha and find himself a lusty tavern wench to tumble.

Perhaps that would ease the knots in his gut and right his mood.

“That’s a bonnie maid if ever I saw one.” Kyle MacAlister’s voice intruded then, and Lennox glanced his friend’s way to see he was staring at the door, where Davina had disappeared.

His lips were curved, his gaze appreciative—and the sight made Lennox want to bury his fist in his friend’s mouth.

Kyle was widowed and on the lookout for another wife.

The bailiff shifted his attention to Lennox then, his smile widening.

“Does the lovely Davina have suitors?”

“No,” Lennox replied curtly, aware that his brother’s gaze was on him now.

Iver’s brow was furrowed, his gaze sharp.

Lennox’s already hammering pulse quickened further.

Cods, the last thing he needed was his brother noticing anything amiss between him and Davina.

“And she doesn’t seek any either.”

Kyle’s green eyes widened.

“Why is that?”

“Davina has suffered much of late,” Lennox replied.

He didn’t want to push things, yet he needed to make sure his friend left Davina alone.

“She has sworn never to take a husband.”