Page 22 of The Chieftain
“I have business with the chieftain,” the stranger said as he rose to his feet. He was a tall man, and he held himself taller.
“Our chieftain is away, but he would want me to bid ye welcome.”
“Who are you?” he asked. “His wife?”
The man was rude.
“No,” she said. “My name is Ilysa.”
His sharp green gaze swept over her, making her recall her brother’s warning that her role in the castle would lead men to assume she was the chieftain’s mistress. She could almost hear this stranger wonder why the chieftain had chosen such a plain lass.
“My mother was our chieftain’s nursemaid, and my brother is his best friend.” She had never felt the need to explain herself before, but the stranger’s scrutiny made her self-conscious. “The chieftain and I are nearly sister and brother.”
“Nearly?” He raised one eyebrow.
“Verynearly,” she said in a firm voice and held his gaze. “If you’ll come sit at the table, I’ll have refreshment brought for ye.”
She was a trifle annoyed that no one had brought him anything already. It was midway between breakfast and the noon meal, but a traveler usually arrived hungry—and even a rude guest merited hospitality.
When she sent a meaningful look at one of the serving maids, the lass went scampering to the kitchens. The trestle tables were taken down between meals, so she directed him to sit at the end of the high table. By the time he settled himself, the maid was returning with a cup of ale and a bowl of steaming stew. Ilysa gave her a grateful smile.
“Sit and keep me company,” the stranger said.
Ilysa was dead on her feet, but she could not rest until she learned more about him.
“I’ve told ye my name,” she said sliding onto the bench beside him. “Will ye do me the same favor?”
“I am Lachlan.”
“Are you the Lachlan who has been leading raids against the MacLeods?”
“Mmmph,” he grunted in what she took as an assent and leaned down to scoop a spoonful of stew into his mouth.
So this was the warrior everyone thought Connor should make captain of his guard.
“This is tasty. Things have improved since I was last here.” When he was halfway through his stew, he paused and said, “Since ye know our new chieftain so well, beingnearlya sister to him, tell me about him.”
Ilysa did not like his sarcasm. “Is there something in particular ye wish to know?” she asked.
“Is he a man worth serving?”
This Lachlan was direct, even for a Highlander.
“He’s your chieftain and that should be sufficient,” Ilysa said, sounding prim to her own ears.
Lachlan gave her a bored, sideways glance and resumed eating his stew.
“Ye shouldn’t need a better reason,” she said, letting her disapproval show in her tone, “but I’ll tell ye that Connor MacDonald is as fine a man as any to walk this earth.”
Lachlan set down his spoon and turned to look at her. “So that’s the way of it.”
“Ye misunderstand,” Ilysa said and felt her face grow hot.
He gave a noncommittal shrug and commenced eating again. What an annoying man. Ilysa wanted to set him straight that she was not Connor’s mistress, but continuing to protest was likely to have the opposite effect.
“How good a warrior is our new chieftain?” Lachlan asked.
“There’s none better, save for my brother Duncan.”
