Page 9 of Kilty By Association
Craig had already leaned forward, one hand braced against the desk. “How? When?”
“Early this morning two fishermen pulled a body from the loch.” The other man stood and crossed to the window where he rested his palm against the sill and stared out, unseeing. “Obvious foul play—his hands were still tied and his neck broken—so the sheriff sent word here.”
“And ye happened to be on duty?”
Drum glanced over his shoulder at the small cot in the corner, his normally dour expression a little rueful. “I was up late with His Majesty, planning another mission.”
Craig shook his head. “Ye need to rest sometime.”
“Nay.” The Hunters’ leader turned back to the view, his words harsh. “I can sleep when I’m dead. There’s too much to be done.”
Craig hadn’t been a member of the King’s Hunters as long as some of the men, but he knew a bit of Drummond Kennedy’s history. He understood why the man felt driven to hunt criminals and fight injustice.
He also understood why the man had an inherent distrust of women.
Craig optednotto explain where he’d been last night.
After that—frankly—mind-numbing kiss, he’d escorted Elspeth home. Or at least, he’d tried to. The woman’s scent, and the feel of her lips under his—hellfire, the feel ofherin his lap, rubbing in all the best ways!—had made it difficult to walk. His cock had complained for a good fifteen minutes after they left the tavern.
By that point, they were near the palace, and Craig hadfinallyfigured out that meantshelived there as well. He had abed in the Hunters’ barracks, but she must’ve been a lady indeed, to warrant an apartment near the King and Queen.
Unfortunately, right around the time he turned to ask her this, Elspeth had disappeared.
He’d searched everywhere for her, but the lass was good at hiding. For a while he was afraid she’d been snatched, but saw no evidence of it. Eventually—when he found her delicate tracks in the mud of one alley—he had to conclude that she’d returned to her home, and just hadn’t wanted him to know where that was.
Makes sense. She thought ye were a bandit, after all. That kiss changed naught.
Mayhap it changed naught for her. It had changedeverythingfor him. If Craig had been free, he would’ve immediately offered his sword to her as a guard, for however long she needed.
But he was a Hunter, and he had been in the middle of a mission.
One which was apparently over.
His hand rose to scratch at his overgrown beard, glad he no longer needed the disguise. “I guess I can start shaving again,” he mused. “Any ideas who killed Barthold?”
Drum stirred. “Nay.” Slowly, he turned, folding his arms across his chest and propping one hip against the sill. “Whoever did it performed a favor for the people of Scotland,unlessthey’remoredangerous. This could be as simple as a robbery gone wrong, or revenge from a victim…or it could be as complex as a complete reorganization of Barthold’s gang under a new, more vicious leadership.”
Craig winced at the idea as his friend sighed and dropped his head back against the stone of the wall.
“Either way, Craig, it’ll be my problem, no’ yers. Ye have a new assignment.”
His brows rose in surprise. “The one ye just planned withthe King? Ye should take that one. Unless…ye dinnae trust me with the bandits?”
Aye, that was likely it. If Drum suspected this was actually a coup from within the criminal band, then he’d not want a dobber like Craig to muck it up.
But Drum sighed and scrubbed his hand down his face. “’Tis no’ like that, Craig. His Majesty has requestedyebe given this new assignment. Or rather, I got the impression theQueenwants ye on it, although I dinnae ken why, so dinnae ask.”
Well, if Drum was confused—and obviously irritated at that—then Craig was even more so.
“What’s the mission?” Mayhap it involved lifting large barrels full of-of-of…something very heavy? Or—oh! “Is it blacksmithing? They need something smithed?”
Drum pushed away from the wall. “I thought ye didnae miss smithing? Ye told me ye were glad to have given it up to join the Hunters?”
Since his leader’s tone meant it was a serious question, Craig didn’t brush it off. But he did shrug and stare down at the vellum spread across the desk so he didn’t have to meet Drum’s gaze.
“I became a smith because it was the easiest. My grandda was the clan’s Commander, and my da after him. But da said I didnae have the brains to lead, and we already had a brilliant Commander. So, I became the blacksmith because I didnae mind horses and heavy shite.”
“Ye’re happy as a Hunter?” Drum asked quietly.
