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“LADY GREER, YE are daft with drink!”

“Nonsense, Inghinn.” Greer sprawled out on her bed and rolled onto her back. The chamber seemed to be rotating around her, and she felt as if she were floating. “I only had two tankards.”

“Aye, well, they were two tankards too many.”

Greer lifted her head, meeting Inghinn’s gaze. Her maid stood, hands on hips, as if she was vexed. However, her full lips had quirked into a wry smile, and her moss-green eyes twinkled with amusement.

Greer gave an unladylike snort before admitting, “The ale was stronger than I’m used to … but it certainly was delicious.”

She’d spent a pleasant hour chatting with Rose, Eara, and Errol, while the sun warmed their faces and the shadows lengthened. The whole experience had been so enjoyable that it had been a wrench to bid the alewife goodbye and return to the broch.

“I’m sure it was … but all the same, ye had better sober up before going down to supper.” Inghinn went to the sideboard and poured a cup of boiled water. She then crossed to the bed and held the cup out to her mistress. “Go on … drink up.”

Greer grimaced at her maid’s bossiness before she pushed herself up and took the cup, draining it in a couple of gulps. Meanwhile, Inghinn perched on the edge of the bed. Her expression altered now, her wry amusement fading into thoughtfulness.

“Ye are different here, Lady Greer,” her maid observed gently as she took the empty cup back.

Greer inclined her head. “How so?”

“It’s like someone let ye out of a cage.”

Greer stilled, considering her maid’s words. “Aye,” she murmured. “Ye know what it’s like at Druminnor … how Da is. It’s hard not to feel … trapped … sometimes.”

Inghinn’s eyes shadowed at this, concern flickering across her face.

“Don’t worry, Inghinn,” Greer said, getting to her feet. Her legs did feel a little unsteady, and she braced herself against the bed so she didn’t sway. “I’m not going to run wild … I’m just enjoying a little freedom.”

“It’s not that,” Inghinn replied. “I just hadn’t realized ye felt so stifled at home. Ye never complain.”

Greer huffed a sigh. “It’s not my way … yet surely ye know the expectations my parents have of me? Sometimes I think my family doesn’t see me at all, besides treating me as if I have nothing between my ears.”

Her maid’s features tightened. Aye, she had noticed.

Greer’s parents and brothers often spoke to her as if she were a witless goose.

Her father and brothers especially made constant jibes about her sunny nature and chattiness; everyone preferred it when she held her tongue and acted demurely, as a lady should.

“Family can be difficult … sometimes,” Inghinn murmured, her gaze cutting away. “I know I was relieved to leave mine behind.”

Greer inclined her head, focusing on her maid. Inghinn spoke little of the life she’d left when she’d come to live at Druminnor. However, over the years, she’d gleaned that things at home hadn’t been easy.

“Ye never visit yer kin, Inghinn,” she noted softly. “Was life with them really that bad?”

Inghinn huffed a sigh, meeting her eye once more. Her eyes were shadowed. “Aye,” she murmured. “My father is a cruel bully … I have no wish to see him again.”

Greer took this in. Suddenly, she felt a kinship with her maid. Aye, she wouldn’t call her father a ‘cruel bully’, but he did have tyrannical tendencies. However, unlike Inghinn, she couldn’t just leave him behind. A clan-chief’s daughter had greater ties and responsibilities.

Her maid’s expression cleared then, her lips lifting at the corners. “Don’t worry, Lady Greer … I’m not bitter about my family. Druminnor is now my home. From the moment I set foot in yer castle, I felt free.”

Greer favored her with a rueful smile in reply. “How different we are … for I feel like I can be myself here,” she admitted. “Like I can finally live .”

Inghinn nodded, favoring Greer with a conspirator’s smile.

“Well then … ye want to make the most of this summer of freedom.” She then motioned to the fresh kirtle and surcote hanging on the wall.

They were both different shades of yellow—the kirtle ochre, and the surcoat a deep gold, like ripe wheat.

The same shade as Greer’s hair. “Come on, let me help ye get changed for supper.”

Brodie had just taken his seat at the laird’s table when Greer Forbes walked into the hall.

He noticed the heads of the warriors seated at the long trestle tables beneath the dais turn first, their gazes traveling to the stairwell. His attention followed theirs, resting upon a vision in gold.

And despite that he’d told himself the lass was trouble, and that he’d be wise to ignore her entirely, Brodie stared.

Lady Greer looked lovely indeed. Her cheeks held a pretty blush, and her large steel-colored eyes were luminous. Yet it was the way her lush body appeared to have been poured into that surcote that made him forget to breathe.

It was no wonder the men around him gazed, awestruck.

The woman had a body made for sin.

Tearing his gaze away, Brodie poured himself a large cup of ale and slugged it back.

Satan’s cods, he needed to rein himself in.

His reaction to Lady Greer was humiliating.

What was he doing gawking at her like a halfwit?

Women like Greer were untouchable, especially for the likes of him—yet his breath had caught at the sight of her, his pulse quickening.

He didn’t like the way longing had just twisted like a blade under his ribs.

It made him feel weak—and he hated that sensation.

Greer Forbes was dangerous, a distraction he didn’t need.

The hunter had picked up his knives late that afternoon, shortly after Rose and Greer departed for the riding lesson.

Without any pressing jobs, Brodie had hoped to slip away before supper, to travel down to Ceann Locha for a night of carousing.

However, Iver had called in a troupe of pipers to play for them this eve, after supper.

Their twin celebrations—Bonnie’s pregnancy and Greer Forbes’s arrival—continued, it seemed.

Brodie was irritated when he’d learned of the planned entertainment—but Iver would feel let down if he disappeared for the evening, and so here he was. Again.

Refilling his cup, Brodie’s attention shifted to where Rose and Kerr sat opposite. His sister-by-marriage wore a wide smile this evening, and her gaze sparkled.

Mouth quirking, Brodie met Rose’s eye. “Yer riding lesson ended better than it began, I take it?”

Rose flashed him a slightly embarrassed smile. “Aye.”

“Are ye sure ye are ready to ride out with the others tomorrow?” Kerr asked then, his brow furrowing.

Rose nodded. “Don’t worry … Greer will keep an eye on me.”

“Aye, but I’ll send some of my guards with ye,” Kerr replied, his frown deepening. Clearly, he wasn’t as keen on this jaunt as his wife was. “Since ye are riding some distance.”

Rose put a hand over where her husband’s rested upon the table. “Don’t fash, Kerr … Captain Errol has already insisted on joining us with his men.”

Kerr’s mouth pursed at learning that Captain Forbes had made such an offer without consulting him first.

It didn’t surprise Brodie though. It was clear from the way Errol Forbes shadowed his laird’s daughter that the man didn’t intend to let her out of his sight over the summer. There was little point in Kerr sending an escort if the women already had one.

Lads bearing platters of food entered the hall. Supper was served—roast venison with fresh bread and braised onions and kale—the rich aroma of the spit-roasted meat drifting through the packed hall. Mead, wine, and ale flowed, while laughter punctured the rumble of conversation in bursts.

Despite that he was doing his best to pretend Lady Greer wasn’t in attendance, Brodie couldn’t help but notice that much of the mirth was coming from the opposite end of the table, where the lass sat between Bonnie and Davina.

Brodie’s gaze narrowed. It appeared to him that his sisters-by-marriage hung on Greer’s every word.

Granted, she had charisma. Her hands waved expressively now as she talked—and then Bonnie and Davina broke into peals of laughter. The tale must have been a funny one, for Iver started laughing too, as did Davina and Lennox seated opposite. Even Sheena smiled.

His irritation simmering, Brodie glanced away. It seemed Lady Greer had enchanted them all, yet he wouldn’t fall under her spell.

“What’s wrong with ye, Brodie?” Kerr’s voice intruded then, and he glanced up, meeting his brother’s gaze across the table. “Ye look like ye just swallowed a lump of gristle.”

“Nothing,” Brodie replied tersely. He picked up his cup and took a gulp. “I’m just not one for these lengthy suppers.”

“Keen to make for Ceann Locha, aye?” Kerr replied, a knowing glint in his eye.

Brodie snorted. “I was … maybe I’ll still head out once we’re done eating.”

“But ye can’t leave,” Rose said then. “Iver’s got the pipers here this eve … remember?” She gestured to the group of florid-faced men seated at one of the tables. “After supper, there will be music and dancing.”

Brodie huffed a long-suffering sigh. God’s blood, he was trapped.

Excitement fluttered up within Greer at the sight of men and women folding up the trestle tables and placing them against the walls. They then pushed the benches back and settled themselves down with cups of wine, mead, or ale, looking on eagerly as the pipers set themselves up in one corner.

The eating was done; it was time for revelry and music.

She loved to dance, and as the pipers struck up a rousing tune, her foot started to tap under the table.

“There’s nothing I like better than a lively cèilidh,” Bonnie murmured next to her. “For years, I used to watch other folk taking part in celebrations like this … but I never thought I’d one day host one.”

Greer met her friend’s eye, noting the introspective look on Bonnie’s face. “I’m glad Fortuna favored ye, Bonnie,” she said softly. “Ye and Iver are perfect together.”

Bonnie’s mouth curved. “Aye, sometimes I have to pinch myself. I can’t believe all of this happened to me.”

“I sometimes feel like that too,” Davina said then from across the table. “If ye had told me a year ago that I’d one day be Lennox Mackay’s wife, I’d have thought ye mad.” Davina glanced over at her husband, her gaze soft. “Yet now I count my blessings.”

They were tender words, yet Lennox hadn’t heard her, for he and Iver were deep in discussion about the current political situation. The king was rallying support from his allies against the Douglases, and the brothers were talking about recent developments.

Greer shifted her attention back to Davina. She was a slightly built, fey-looking woman with raven-black hair and pale skin, yet she had an iron will. She’d defied her father to take the veil, and then defied him once more to wed Lennox Mackay.

Aye, Bonnie had told her all in her letters. Davina’s story was impressive. Like Greer, she was a laird’s daughter, yet she couldn’t imagine having the nerve to do something so bold.

Greer’s belly tightened then. Surely, Davina’s father wasn’t as frightening as her own?

She couldn’t help but believe that luck had played a part. Davina had courted ruin, and yet fate had smiled upon her. Indeed, both Bonnie and Davina had been fortunate—but lightning didn’t strike most women. Greer always tried to look on the bright side, but she couldn’t lie to herself about that.

And she couldn’t lie about the fact that lightning wasn’t likely to strike her.

“Enough chatter,” she announced then, pushing herself back from the table. “Let’s dance!”