Page 40 of Tair

“I wished beg your pardon, Mistress.” He shuffled his boots in the leaf debris on the trail. “’Twasnae kind for me to torment you.” He hesitated and then added in a low whisper, “I didnae wish to, you ken. Seneschal ever claims ’tis my duty to scare the outsiders.”

“I see.” Lucy would have to deal with Sgathan when she returned. “It’s all right, then. Why don’t we be friends?”

The big man tilted his head as if unsure of what she’d asked. “Why should you wish a friend that torments you?”

“Because it’s better than having you as an enemy. You’ll stop now, right?” When he nodded she held out her hand. “Give me your hand.” When he did she clasped and shook it. “This is a custom in America, the country where I was born. When we shake hands it’s like saying we both agree to something. Now we’re friends.”

Beinn looked at his palm when she released his hand. “You dinnae wish shed blood or dance about a fire to seal the pledge?”

“Not today, why?” she asked, keeping a straight face.

He scratched the back of his head. “’Tis a pact, our handshake. In my croft when two made such, ah.” He glanced past her, bowed and then turned and ran back toward the stronghold.

As he came to stand beside her Tair watched the big man disappear into the trees. “You’ve bewitched the lad.”

“No, I was just nice to him. You should be, too.” She glowered back at the stronghold. “Just so you’re aware, I’m going to have words with Sgathan when we get back. Many words. Many, many harsh words. There may be some shin kicking involved.”

He nodded. “Keep your back to a wall when you do.”

She considered ramming her elbow into his side, but she’d probably get herself locked up in the dungeons again. “Ready to sail?”

The boat that waited for them at a very rough-looking dock had two guards sitting on benches inside it; both were holding oars. Tair jumped in first and then turned and lifted her off the dock before she could do the same. He carried her over to the bench at the front of the boat and sat down there, plopping her on his lap. When she tried to shift off him he wrapped an arm around her waist.

“We’re not crossing an ocean,” Lucy said. “Can’t I sit by myself?”

“No.” He turned his head and nodded at the guards, who cast off and started rowing them away from the island.

For the first time since she’d dropped into this world Lucy got a good look at the castle, which was much larger than she’d realized. Made of massive blocks of dark gray stone, it seemed like something from a dark fantasy movie, a villain’s castle, with a long-haired princess locked up in the highest tower. The logistics of how the MacRune had built the place defied logical explanation. What had they used to transport all that rock across the loch? The waters seemed very deep, and this oversize rowboat couldn’t have handled the weight of even one big block.

As they moved farther away from the island Lucy saw more of the intimidating way the stronghold had been designed, with only slits for windows and two high walls surrounding it. Like the few that remained intact in her time, it had been constructed to safeguard a lot of people from an attacking enemy—and for good reason. There were plenty of wars coming over the next hundred years or so as the English kings tried to press their claims to the northern country.

“Warfare is a way of life for the clans here in this time,” she murmured, recalling James Talbot’s many stories about the fiercely independent Scots. “Is that why the MacRune stay on the island? To try and avoid the conflicts?”

Tair grunted, which was his favorite response whenever she asked him something he didn’t want to answer.

“Why don’t you want anyone from the outside world coming to your castle?” Lucy looked back at him, hoping he would finally admit to his clandestine raids, but saw that he was becoming aggravated. Shadows fell over them as the clear sky overhead suddenly grew cloudy. “Why does the weather change so fast here?”

“Do you reckon I’ll spill all of our secrets to you?” he countered.

He sounded different now, more on guard, as if she’d poked him in a sore spot.

“You seem to have a lot of them.” Lucy discovered she was leaning back against his chest and stiffened. “You’re not going to shackle me to you while we’re at the market, are you?”

He tucked his arm around her waist. “Mayhap I’ll but tie you to me.”

As the storm clouds grew darker the guards rowed like their lives depended on crossing the water in record time. When they reached the shallows Lucy couldn’t see any dock, and then yelped as Tair scooped her up, stepped off the boat and waded to the bank with her, dropping her on her slippered feet.

“Thank you.” She looked down at his sodden trousers and boots. “Why don’t you build a dock on this side?”

“The vassals did, over there.” He gestured to the other side of the loch. “I dinnae show myself leaving Gealladh so readily. Our enemies would attack me here.”

Lucy wondered if he really thought she’d believe his nonsense. “Because all they do is wait for that sterling opportunity?”

As lightning crackled overhead Tair folded his arms. “Do you wish see the folk at the village market, or no’?”

“Lead on, please.” Lucy was startled when a man came out of the trees leading two horses with wooden saddles. “Ah, I haven’t ridden in ages.”

“’Tisnae for you.” He took hold of the reins of one horse while one of the guards came and got the other. He then boosted Lucy up into the front of the saddle before swinging up behind her.