Page 28 of Tair

“I’m never too weary for our lasses,” Cath told her, tugging up her skirts and putting his hand between her thighs. She had already grown wet and ready for him, and that eagerness sent a surge of hot blood to his groin.

Cath went to work. Facking Sheona until she reached her pleasure took only a short time, and that made him spill. He then held her as she shook from the shock of finding her bliss, for he knew well that mortal females enjoyed a show of tenderness. When he helped her to her feet she embraced him, smiled and slipped out.

We’re all selfish bastarts, he thought, shamed by her generosity.

He finally ended up in the garrison hall, where the patrol captains waited to report to him about their nightly duty. After listening to the usual dull accounts of an uneventful night, he sent the men to their rest, and then went to walk the island’s shoreline in an effort to work up some desire for food. His sire’s old admonition of you must eat like mortals do here, or you shall dwindle down to a sack of bones no longer frightened him. He’d wearied of this long and ugly life of his, and if not for his brothers he would have found the means with which to end himself before they’d ever built the stronghold.

Mayhap the cluet reckons the same, Cath thought as he started back toward the great hall. ’Tis made to fulfill wishes. Only why did the thing choose to do thus now, here?

If Lucy Brooke had the answers, he intended to get them.

Chapter Seven

After confronting Beinn about his fake scar, Lucy went downstairs and entered the great hall. She had to quickly dodge around three clansmen who were shoving each other as they growled in Gaelic. Along with the Beinn encounter her day usually began with such preludes to a brawl, so she’d learned to anticipate them. She ducked to avoid a mug tossed her way by a fourth man, and walked over to the currently empty table where the senior men gathered for the morning meal.

“Fair morning, Mistress Brooke.” Playing waiter as he always did, Sgathan came to place in front of her a mug of something hot and fragrant. He also invaded her space just a degree too close for her comfort. “I trust you spent a restful night.”

“It’s nice that you’re so trusting.” As he came close enough to brush his arm against hers Lucy shifted away from him on the bench to break the contact. “Garia needs to have a bathe with lots of soap, and then see your doctor to get treatment for body lice. The wee white bugs,” she added when he frowned at her.

“Och, ’tis a common complaint during the winter and spring,” the seneschal told her, making a careless gesture. “I cannae force our vassals to wash.”

“Then everyone she has contact with will become infested,” Lucy said. “That includes that guard who takes her with him every night.”

“Halley.” He regarded her with a frown. “Why should you care what we MacRune suffer, Mistress?”

“Oh, you know. I’m not a jerk like you.” She sipped the brew, which tasted of honey, mint and something floral, and then eyed the overflowing platters of food on the table. She appreciated the fact that Ronan always provided plenty of food at mealtimes, but she’d soon discovered that facing yards of sausage dripping with fat this early was a bit too much for her appetite. “Where’s the laird?”

Sgathan’s expression blanked. “Alas, no’ here.”

“Could you be more specific, please?” When he didn’t reply Lucy sighed. “Right, that’s confidential info, like everything the man does. I forgot.”

“Fair morning.” Lochran, his eyes covered with his daytime blindfold, sat down on the bench across from Lucy. “Need you something from our lord, Mistress Brooke?”

As if she’d confide in the disabled guy, who in his own way was trying to scam her as much as the rest of the clan. “Plenty, but that can wait.”

The Chief of the Night Watch had been joining her in the great hall for breakfast each morning, which she was fairly sure Tair had ordered him to do. She’d learned only that he had a mysterious eye condition that made sunlight blinding for him. Since there was no real medical care in this time, he coped by covering his eyes during the daylight hours. Despite that, Lucy noticed that he made his way through the castle with ease, as if he were silently counting steps as he moved through the passages and rooms. A guard shadowed him everywhere during the day as well, probably to help him avoid trouble with things that unexpectedly got in his path.

Lucy had already decided to make a show of befriending Lochran so that he thought she was as sincere as he was pretending to be. “How was your night, Chief?”

His roofbeam shoulders moved. “No one slain, naught stolen, and the keep yet stands intact. I live to serve another night.”

“Smashing.” She saw two of the men who had been bickering earlier were now shoving each other. Both went down and rolled toward her, which meant they were probably going to get her newly-washed clothes dirty. Her patience finally ran out, and she stood up. “Excuse me for a minute.”

She heard Sgathan call her name but ignored him, and grabbed a pitcher of something cold from a serving maid’s hands as she approached the brawlers. Tossing the contents of the pitcher on them stopped the fight, and the pair stared up at her in shock.

“I would like to have breakfast today without being splattered with someone’s blood,” Lucy told them as she slammed down the pitcher on the nearest table. Aware that all the men in the hall were watching her now, she pointed toward the arch. “Take it outside, boys, or settle down and tuck in.”

“Dare you command us, wench?” the bigger of the pair demanded as he hoisted himself up from the floor.

“Yes, this is me, daring.” Their intimidating act had scared her at first, but after Beinn had failed so miserably to scare her it had just gotten annoying. Lucy went toe-to-toe with him. “Will you please grow up?”

He peered down at her and bellowed, “Do you think us veg, woman?”

“No, I think you’re men,” Lucy shouted back, silencing him and everyone else in the hall. “Why don’t you act like it?”

Just as she hoped, both brawlers exchanged confused looks before they limped over to a table and sat down with sulky expressions. The other clansmen stared at her as if they’d never before seen a woman stand up to a man, which they probably hadn’t.

“Idiots,” she muttered as she marched back to her table.