Page 51 of An Allusive Love
He looked over his shoulder. Her hand slid a little farther up his leg, and he heard her breath catch. She stood quickly and pushed the bottle of oil into his hand. “Apply more when this soaks into yer skin. With any luck, it will be gone in time for the cèilidh.”
Her hand lingered in his, and he pulled her against him, heedless of the wet wool of his kilt. “Marry me. Let’s be done with this charade.”
Kirsty hesitated then looked him in the eye. He thought he saw regret, and it tightened the knot in his stomach. “I’m no’ quite ready. Perhaps the next time ye ask.” And she ran into the house, Charlie on her heels.
Brodie stood there barefoot, his mouth open.Not quite ready?Those words didn’t sound like Kirsty. In fact, the response had sounded almost… practiced.
“Maybe there’ll be no next time,” he yelled at the closed door, yanking on his stockings. He tucked the oil in his sporran and collected his horse. Something smelled foul, and it wasn’t the dye. Time to have a talk with the MacNaughton women.
*
Dunderave
The day hadstarted so brightly. Ross Craigg replayed the afternoon in his head, trying to figure where, precisely, his plan had gone wrong. The entire MacNaughton family was visiting the village today, even the MacNaughton’s Sassenach-loving daughter. What was her name? Maeve. If he remembered correctly, she’d had eyes for Rory MacDunn as a lass. Shaming MacDunn in front of her would have made his fall from grace that much sweeter. But now it was all falling apart.
Ross brought his sheep into Dunderave, deposited them behind Reverend Robertson’s cottage, then explained to the minister there had been foul play.
The reverend hadn’t wanted to bother the chief.
“MacDunn stole my sheep, altered the lug marks to make them look like his own, and ye dinna want to bother the mon?” He’d spat at the ground. “It’s his responsibility to settle this dispute. MacDunn should be on his way. I’ll wait behind yer house with the beasties.”
“The sheep could have easily wandered into yer flock. It’s happened before,” Reverend Robertson disagreed. “But if it will end yer complaint, we’ll have the MacNaughton decide.”
Calum had arrived with two mangy hounds and his English nephew. Ross had rolled his eyes as the reverend explained the basics of sheep farming to the eejit welp.
“We use common pasture and have two ways to identify the sheep. Keeling—a paint on their wool—distinguishes from a distance who owns the sheep or lug marks can be cut into their ears. Each farmer has his own particular notch.”
“Mine is oneV, and MacDunn’s mark is two overlappingVs.” Ross had wanted to get on with it.
Calum had inspected the animals and frowned. “It’s no mystery to me. They all have the MacDunn lug marks.”
“The second mark was added.” Ross had enjoyed the worry on his MacDunn’s face. “Look closer, ye’ll see one of theVs is more recent.”
Calum had rubbed one ewe’s ear, his eyes narrowed. “MacDunn, what kind of thievery is this? Do ye think my brain’s no bigger than this sheep?”
“I swear to ye by all that’s holy, I didna add that mark,” the accused had bellowed, panic in his voice.
Craigg had been careful to keep the smile from his face, tasting revenge. It was one thing to argue over livestock that had been mixed together. It was another to steal. If the marks had been added, it was proof of deceit. Men had been hanged for such an offense. The best-case scenario was flogging. Either way, Craigg would have won. Until the English pup interfered.
“You’re saying you never tampered with those ewes, and no one under your employ touched them to add a mark?” the mealy-mouthed grandson asked.
MacDunn shook his head.
“He’s a liar! He did it, and he’ll hang for it, by God.”
But Calum had played Almighty. “Imake the judgments here. We are in Scotland, not England. I’ll no’ hang a man for a bit of wool, but I’ll flog him myself if he’s lying.”
“The MacDunns have a reputation for pilfering. Ye’d take his word over mine? My cousin Alisabeth lives under yer roof, and ye side with this common criminal?” Craigg had sneered. “Or are ye getting weak in yer old age and afraid the MacDunns will retaliate?”
“I take offense on both counts, Craigg. Our clans have been at peace for too long for ye to speak such filth.”
Craigg had seen the warning signs of MacNaughton’s temper. He’d decided not to risk a huge fist in his face. Then the reverend, MacNaughton, and the Sassenach had gone back into the cottage to confer. Craigg had stayed behind, guarded by Calum’s black hairy beast. The Death Dog. And in ten minutes, his plan had gone awry. He and MacDunn were ordered to return with their children.
Now, he gave Nessie a sideways glance as they stopped in front of the minister’s house. “Someone will pay for this,” he muttered at her bent head. “And keep that shawl pulled tight, ye hear me?”
She nodded and pulled the length of material around her belly.
“Keep yer mouth shut and let me speak for both of us.”
