Page 6 of Highlander’s Lesser Evil

“Lady Gemma! Lady Gemma!”

At the sound of young Rufus’s voice, Gemma turned and caught the young boy just as he threw herself into her arms. Tears were streaking down his face.

“Rufus, sweetheart,” she said soothingly as she fell to her knees so she could hug him tight. “How many times do I have to tell you that I am not Lady Gemma? I am just Gemma.”

“Ye are Lady Gemma,” he cried stubbornly. “Ye are the daughter of a arse-ticrosy.”

Gemma tried not to snort with laughter. The child’s pronunciation was probably more telling than he knew. The world of British nobility meant little here in the mountains, but she didn’t remind him of that. She also didn’t mind. Here, she was freer than she’d ever been as the fourth daughter of a duke.

“Why are you crying, my sweet? Did you injure yourself?”

“No, ‘tis ye. I heard the new guards at the border talking. Graeme Fletcher is nearby, and he’s on his way. He’s coming for you!”

3

It was a two-day ride across his land to reach Loch Moran. Leading a small band of men, he arrived just as dusk was settling over the large port of water. The orange glow from the sun reflected off the calm surface. The last time he was there, the waters were rough; a show of nature’s strength. Even now, watching the water, he wasn’t fooled. Beneath that calm surface was a current that could carry a person away.

Loch Moran was beautiful but deadly. Her residents knew it was for ships only and not for swimming or bathing. A moment of rest could instantly turn into a fatal drowning if one weren’t careful.

The first stop was at the patrols he’d put in place. Loch Moran was vulnerable right now, but he had a feeling no clan would ambush so soon after the king’s command to leave it to Theo.

Still, he would take no chances.

“Report.”

“They just finished up a shipment of goods to go out. ’Tis small, and they’ve requested goods in trade. Boots, fabrics, a few spices, and some tools. All has been peaceful.” He hesitated. “Graeme MacSeaver has been here for a couple of days.”

Theo growled, but there was nothing he could do about Graeme. “Is he causing problems?”

The guard shook his head.

“Excellent. I’ve brought some supplies to replenish ye for now. If anyone wishes to return to the keep, let me know, and I will work out some substitutes.”

The guard looked surprised but nodded. Theo couldn’t afford to ask for volunteers, so he’d chosen the guards with no families, but some still had lasses waiting for them. He was willing to change the guards out every two weeks to make certain that they could still spend some time at home, until he could think of a more permanent solution. There were outlying villages on MacDougal land that survived just fine without constant supervision, but Loch Moran was different, and Theo couldn’t take any chances.

There had been no abandoned shelters when Theo took over Loch Moran, which showed its first weakness. MacSeaver hadn’t bothered building guard posts or cottages to stay while he visited, most likely because Fletcher MacSeaver thought himself too important for menial work like that.

Theo hadn’t made that mistake. Shelters were the first things built. He wanted to ensure that his guards had roofs over their heads, and that he and his men had a place to stay.

His men were already getting settled and setting up a small camp outside. There were fireplaces in the cottages and a small kitchen, but they were comfortable making their meals outside and would eat together before they turned in.

As usual, the fire drew a crowd, and the MacSeavers came out to offer them food for their meal and chat.

Not MacSeavers, Theo reminded himself. They are MacDougals now. They’d sworn their allegiance to him by staying, and soon he would be handing out colors. Most highlanders didn’t switch clans easily, and Theo wasn’t sure he could trust a group of people that did, but one look at them proved that Fletcher hadn’t taken care of them.

Even as he walked up, he could see that some of the children were racing around with bare feet. No wonder they were trading for supplies. Why hadn’t they asked for his help the last time he was there?

Why hadn’t he noticed?

“Laird MacDougal,” one older man greeted respectfully before he frowned. “My apologies...I should simply call ye Laird now, shouldn’t I?”

He knew his reputation was still that of his father’s reputation, but these people had no direct contact with his father. They weren’t haunted by nightmares, and it was nice not to see fear lurking in the depths of their gaze.

“It will take time. I understand. What are ye called?”

“I am Harris. My wife is the fair lady handing out biscuits to yer men. They’ll taste nothing finer. She goes by Agnes,” Harris said proudly.

“Harris.” Theo frowned. The name sounded familiar. “Ye helped with the construction of the guard stations. My men say that ye are a fast and honest worker. I appreciate ye helping to get the structures up so quickly.”