Page 34 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
Rhys gave a sharp whistle and urged the man over with a nod.
William looked up, grinned faintly, and tossed the apple core into a nearby trough. With a quick swipe of the blade across his sleeve, he tucked it back into his belt and came striding over. Rhys noticed that the man had called out over his shoulderbefore his boots hit the dirt in the pen, and following the man was the stable master.
“She’s got that pony trained already?” he asked as they turned toward the keep.
“She’s got grit,” Rhys muttered. “Might have some competition, Master Shannon.”
“Oh aye, the young miss may very well take over for me soon,” the older gentleman joked, but Daisy heard, and a wide smile broke out across her face with a stunning glow.
The two men turned and maneuvered outside of the pen railing. Rhys left his daughter in the care of the master with a caring wave, and she beamed somehow even wider than she had been. “Bye, Da! Love ye!”
“Love ye too, precious lass. See ye later.”
“Bye Mister Billy!”
“See ye later on, miss,” William had said with a fond chuckle, and Rhys recalled that there was once a time where William had absolutely loathed the nickname ‘Billy’ that Myles had given him. He used to correct him and everyone within a half-second of it being said. The memory brought a wide grin to his mouth, as his daughter seemed to make the man more amenable to the name.
William is a mouthful anyway — look forward to the day he just snaps and lets us all call him ‘Billy’…
They walked in silence across the bailey. The mist had burned off, leaving sunlight to glint off the stone walls and clatter of tools from the forge ringing through the yard. When they reached the inner stairwell, William fell into step behind him without any indication needed.
By the time they reached the landing near the study, William was already speaking.
“Council caught me this mornin’ before I came out to the stable.”
Rhys opened his gait a bit wider, but William remained in step, and the two men took a turn down the corridor. “Oh, aye?”
William continued without missing a beat, reading the rhythm that the conversation would potentially go with ease. “Leighton and Robert brought new suggestions for settlin’ the Murdoch matter without a direct strike. Might be worth a listen, Rhys.”
“Is that so?”
“Aye,” William said, waiting for Rhys to indicate that he was ready to hear more. Which he did with a slight inclination of his head.
“Robert’s proposin’ to intercept their trade lines. Starve ‘em slow. Leighton favors callin’ in the McKinnons. Claims they’djump at a chance to edge into the North and gut Murdoch in our name.”
Rhys’s jaw flexed. “Nae a direct strike, but a far greater impact?”
“They daenae wish to die,” William said evenly.
Rhys pushed open the study door. Dust motes swirled in the beam of light from the window. The heavy table in the center was strewn with maps, markers, and old ledgers.
“They shouldnae have pledged their steel to me if they dinnae mean to use it, Billy, and ye can tell them that directly,” Rhys said, striding toward the table.
William said nothing in response.
Rhys didn’t look up as he asked, “Where’s the lass?”
William raised a brow. “Myles is in the library as he was instructed to do with theLadyAmara...”
Rhys’s eyes flicked up at that.
He grunted in response, but inside, the shift of her name in his mouth felt like a pinched nerve. It irritated him how quickly Billy had corrected him. How the sound of her name set fire to every single nerve.
He leaned over the map. “Let’s draw out the Southern approach. If they’ve pulled back from their Eastern flank, we might push straight through the woods. What do ye think, Billy?”
William stepped beside him and began adjusting pieces. “Aye, but we’d be bottlenecked by the ridge. Good point for an ambush.”
“We’d have the advantage of height.”
