Page 32 of The Beast of the Highlands
And if she’s returnin’ tonight, I’ll need to strengthen the guard to protect her.
“Tell me, Desmond, and tell me honestly—have ye heard of any unrest among the clan, with regards to Autumn? Are there people who are displeased by her presence, to the point where they might do somethin’ like this?” It was the only explanation Flynn could think of.
Desmond paused, frowning in thought. “Truth be told, and ye ken I wouldnae lie to ye, I havenae. Yer people love Master Leighton almost as much as they love ye. They’ve seen the change in him—he talks to everyone he passes, he laughs, he smiles, he spends time among folk, instead of hidin’ himself away like a hermit. They ken that’s Miss Montgomery’s doin’. They’re nae fools. And they like her—or tolerate her—because of the difference she’s brought about in Master Leighton.”
“Well, someone isnae of the same mind. But I daenae ken if they cannae tolerate Autumn, or the idea of Scottish provisions filterin’ into England.” Flynn clenched his jaw. “Take two more men with ye today, for Autumn’s escort. And speak to yer most trusted man and have him go with ye on yer next provision runs. Explain it as payment for Autumn’s work, if ye have to convince him.”
Desmond dipped his head. “Aye, M’Laird.”
“Do ye like her?” Flynn asked suddenly.
Desmond raised a surprised eyebrow. “Aye, M’Laird. I admit, I wasnae sure about a Sassenach lass comin’ to teach yer brother, but I ken why she’s easy to adore.” He smiled. “Me ribs are still achin’ from our ride south. She had us laughin’ the whole way. Never known a lass so funny.”
“At least she has won over my most loyal men.” Flynn sighed with relief. If danger was afoot, it settled him to know that he would have a trustworthy band of men to protect her.
Desmond chuckled. “Och, she’d already done that when we first met her, and she were snipin’ at ye like a fox kit. It isnae often we see someone who can hurl a few witty barbs at our Laird, nor someone who can cling onto their humor after they’ve been set on by ruffians.” His expression turned serious. “She’s a tough lass, M’Laird. Ye can see it in the way she holds herself.”
“My ma was a tough lass, and that dinnae stop the worst from happenin’ to her.” Bitterness flooded Flynn’s chest at the cruel memory. His mother had been a true warrior, respected and lauded throughout Scotland for her ferocity, her sense of justice, and her beauty. And though she had died with her broadsword in hand, alongside her husband, her fate could not be changed. She had not lived to tell that tale at a feast, cheering her people with a goblet raised.
Desmond’s eyes narrowed slightly. “M’Laird… is there somethin’ I should ken?”
“She has become dear to me,” Flynn replied, before hastily adding, “for all she has done for me brother, I mean. I wouldnae see her harmed. She’s… important to us.”
A slight smile of understanding formed upon Desmond’s lips. “Aye, M’Laird. But it isnae just yer brother. There’s been a change in ye, an’ all, and I couldnae be happier to see it.”
“There has?” The revelation surprised Flynn.
“Daenae forget—I’ve known ye all me life.” A sadness entered Desmond’s voice. “Since yer ma and da died, ye’ve been a shadow of yer former self. And though ye’ve kept us all prosperin’, I think ye forgot how to be joyful, and how to enjoy the fruits of yer labor… ‘til she came here.”
Flynn gazed down at the flagstones of the battlements, hearing the truth in Desmond’s words. Somehow, Autumn had breathed life and vitality back into him, giving him the vigor and will to find pleasure in the smallest of things; a walk, an ale with his soldiers, a horse ride, a pleasing book, a snippet of poetry, a stolen kiss. In truth, he had rarely visited his library until he had thought to offer Autumn the use of it. Since then, he had read more, laughed more, engaged more, smiled more, and felt more alive than he had in years. Perhaps ever.
His smile reflected Desmond’s. “Ye’re only sayin’ that ‘cause I’m drinkin’ with ye again, and ye get the good ale from me private stores.”
Their fond conversation was cut short by a pair of guards sprinting up the stone stairs and onto the battlements, barreling along until they reached Flynn and his man-at-arms. They had their hands upon the hilts of their swords, their eyes wide with a fear that only another warrior could recognize as they clattered to a halt.
“What’s wrong?” Flynn said sharply, knowing that look.
One of the soldiers pointed a finger toward the westbound road. “One of the lads just rode in from the western outpost.”
Flynn narrowed his eyes in the direction of the soldier’s fingertip and spotted the faintest wisp of a dust cloud rising up beyond the dense canopy of trees. “What did he see?”
“Armed cavalry,” the second soldier panted. “A small battalion of infantry alongside.”
Anger sliced through Flynn’s chest. “Were they wearin’ colors? Any crests?”
“None, M’Laird,” the first soldier replied. “The scout said they were draggin’ a batterin’ ram with ‘em.”
Nae now. Nae in broad daylight, ye Sassenach vermin.
He shocked himself with the violence of his thoughts, but this was no longer Flynn Duncan thinking. This was Laird MacLennan, transforming into a military leader, with a mind to match. If he did not act quickly, and without hesitation, his people would suffer.
“Sound the bells!” Flynn whirled around, bellowing to the guards in the watchtowers. “Give those in the woods five minutes to return, then lower the portcullis! Anyone left out there will have to hide themselves!”
The castle sprang into action, soldiers running hither and thither to follow Flynn’s orders, as the first warning peal of the bells shuddered out. Below, in the courtyard, he saw mothers grab their children, hurrying them inside. No one screamed, no one shouted, no one panicked. They had all done this countless times before.
“M’Laird?” Desmond tilted his head southward. “What do ye want me to do about Miss Montgomery?”
Conflict seized Flynn. On the one hand, she would be safer at her family’s manor, away from whatever was coming. On the other, he did not trust in her being truly safe unless she was at his side, where he could defend her himself. Especially after Desmond’s worrying revelation about the provisions.
