Page 25 of The Laird's Wicked Game
“The broch certainly has a great vantage point,” she said, glancing up at the high walls that thrust up against the blue sky. “If anyone attacks, ye shall see them coming.”
He gave another snort. “Not always … when the fog rolls in during spring and autumn … the likes of the Ghost Raiders use it to their advantage.”
Kylie frowned as she recalled their attack on Lochbuie village at Bealtunn. A couple of them had even managed to get inside Moy Castle.
She suppressed a shiver at the reminder of how close Liza had come to dying. Her sister had been captive and ended up with a knife to the throat. The leader of the Raiders, a man named Ross Macbeth, had managed to climb the wall with a rope—with help from the inside—and had been intent on robbing the castle’s strongroom. It was only thanks to Alec’s intervention, and Liza’s quick-thinking, that disaster had been averted.
“Ye’ve been busy of late with the wall around Dounarwyse village,” she said then. “Yer tenants will certainly feel safer now.”
“Aye … and we’ll soon have daily patrols, morning and evening, along the coast.” His voice hardened as he continued, “I’ll not have those skull-faced shit-eaters sneak up on me again.”
An awkward silence followed these vicious words. A fierce scowl now creased Maclean’s face.
“What about the Mackinnons?” she asked, deciding it was best to move on from the Ghost Raiders, for the mention of them had blackened the laird’s mood. “Do ye worry about them?”
He shrugged, his face relaxing a little. “Bran Mackinnon hasn’t given me any trouble since the Battle of Dounarwyse … and if the whelp knows what’s good for him, he won’t.”
Kylie drew in a deep breath before releasing it slowly. “I should tell ye that Makenna is betrothed to him.”
His eyes snapped wide. “To Bran Mackinnon?”
“Aye.”
“Ye have been keeping that news close.”
She pulled a face. “Aye, well … it’s a complicated tale … although it’s tied up with the Battle of Dounarwyse,” she replied before heaving a sigh. “To get the MacGregors onside, Kendric Mackinnon promised my father much … including a marriage alliance between his son and my father’s firstborn daughter.”
Maclean’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t Makenna theyoungestof the MacGregor brood?”
“Aye … Da omitted to tell the former Mackinnon clan-chief that he’d already married his eldest daughter off. The only maid amongst us now is Makenna.”
To her surprise, the laird gave a low laugh. “And it will be quite a match.”
Kylie studied him, intrigued by his reaction. “Ye have met Bran Mackinnon then?”
“Aye … although the last time I saw him, the lad was on his knees outside the walls of Dounarwyse, splattered with blood and facing Loch’s judgment. He’s been sulking ever since.”
“Well, once he and Makenna wed, he’ll be too busy trying to tame her to focus on much else,” Kylie replied, glancing up at the walls. She caught sight of a woman’s silhouette there, her long hair blowing in the breeze. Although Makenna wasn’t part of the Dounarwyse Guard, she spent much time prowling its walls as if she served here. “She won’t take kindly to being robbed of her blades.”
Maclean didn’t reply, and when Kylie glanced his way once more, she marked the groove between his brows. Once again, he looked as if he wished to say something but was checking himself. “I haven’t forgotten my promise to take ye and my sons up to Dùn da Ghaoithe before the summer’s over,” he said then. “We shall go at the end of this week … before this fine weather turns.”
Kylie smiled, even as uneasiness fluttered up. She was relieved she and Maclean had cleared the air somewhat. All the same, she wasn’t sure it was wise for her to spend a lot of time with him. “The lads will be excited,” she answered, keeping the focus firmly on his sons. “And it’ll be instructive for them too.”
Kylie fought a wince then. How dry and prim she sounded.
The laird’s lips quirked. “Ye certainly take yer role seriously,” he teased.
“Of course,” she replied, covering up her embarrassment with a firm tone. “It pleases me greatly to have found a purpose.” If she kept this up, she really would turn into a stern ‘duenna’.
“Aye,” he murmured. “All of us need one.”
Seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation away from herself, Kylie cleared her throat. “And what is yers, Maclean?”
His green eyes glinted. “What doyethink drives me, Lady Grant?”
Her pulse fluttered at the edge to his voice. Her first impulse was to glance away, but his gaze held her fast now, and something within her rose to the challenge. “I believe ye are committed to ensuring yer kin, yer people, and yer broch all thrive,” she answered carefully. Her skin prickled then, as she continued. “Ye’d give yer life to protect Dounarwyse, and all it shelters.”
His gaze widened. Perhaps he hadn’t expected such a heartfelt response, yet she’d meant every word. How different he was from her late husband. Errol had cared so little about the well-being of his broch and lands that he’d gambled his wealth away.