Page 49 of Kilty as Sin
Of course, if ye’d been in their positions, ye would’ve mocked yerself to next Michaelmas and back again.
True. He had a reputation to maintain, after all.
And ye still have to hear what Drum has to say.
The reminder sent Barclay’s heart back into his stomach again, and as Grace and Craig shot quips at one another, he stole his friend’s ale and took a swig.
Drummond Kennedy was the leader of the Hunters, appointed by Their Majesties to oversee the law-keeping force. He was stern, somber, and scary as hell at times.
And right now, he was giving Barclay’s report to the King.
The thought was nerve-wracking.
After MacGill’seventualdeath, Barclay had given Grace a few days to recover from her ordeal and to reconnect with her father. Their relationship was tenuous at best, but the older man was genuinely sorry for his role in manipulating Grace’s future, and she seemed willing to forgive him.
Or at least, to consider it, which was more than the old man deserved, and he knew it.
Then, knowing his role as a Hunter, Barclay had taken his father’s body home to MacGill land. Grace had insisted on going with him, and to his surprise, Horse—whom she still called Mayo—had insisted on carrying her.
As much as a horse can insist, Barclay supposed.
Being on MacGill land had been…strange. His mother had been born there and had died there, but he had few memories of the place. ‘Twas really quite beautiful, in a haunting sort of way. The mists rolled down from the mountains and sat in the glens in a sort of dream which had made Barclay curious to explore more of the place.
Instead, however, they’d stayed in the castle and helped the clan prepare the funeral feast. It shouldn’t have been surprising that ‘twas an actual celebration, as the news spread among the MacGills that they were free of their laird’s cruelty.
But with no clear heir, no clear laird, the future of the clan was in jeopardy.
They’d stayed with the MacGills for a sennight, helping the steward and housekeeper straighten out the immediate future, and clean up the old laird’s messes where they could. Barclay wasn’t sure how it happened, but somehow the story got around that he was MacGill’s natural son, and soon the servants and the rest of the clan were nodding respectfully to him and calling himmilord.
He suspected Grace had something to do with it.
Ah, Grace.
A sennight alone with her had been miraculous.
He’d vowed to himself not to disrespect her before they were married, but she had other plans. Each night at Castle MacGill, she’d climbed into his bed wearing the thinnest, most enticing chemise, and his resolve had cracked.
He hadn’t fooked her the way he wanted—the way he’d been aching to for weeks—but he wasn’t strong enough to turn her away.
Instead, he’d shown her pleasure. Introduced her to the ways of making love. Allowed her to explore his body as he’d explored hers. They’d both found pleasure in one another’s touches, but as each night drew to a close, Barclay knew he was only torturing himself.
To be so close to the object of his desire and unable to make her his…aye, ‘twas torture.
But soon ‘twould be over.
Drummond had taken Barclay’s report—and his request to be permitted to wed the lady Grace MacDonald—to the King. Soon, he’d return, and—
“Ye lucky bastard,” Drum announced as he pushed open the door and stomped in.
Ah, speak of the devil.
“Lucky?” Payton asked, dropping all four of the chair’s legs to the ground. “Does that mean His Majesty approved Barclay’s petition?”
“It means the King isnae going to have yer head removed for killing one of his lairds.”
Barclay swallowed.
‘Twas Grace who came to his defense. “SurelyHis Majesty understands what a vile man Laird MacGill was? Surely, he understands that Barclay was merely defending my father—whom the King had ordered to help, by sending Barclay after me?”
