Chapter 25

Several hours later, Morgan was fairly confident the army of Rivenloch was not coming—at least not today. He entered the crowded great hall for supper after a long day of drilling the archers.

The clan had performed admirably. His knights were ready for war. His servants had followed instructions swiftly and with efficiency, despite Bethac’s absence. Even the children had helped prepare for siege.

A siege that had never come. Which was for the best. He didn’t want war with the neighbors.

If the king’s messenger arrived on the morrow, there would be no need for a confrontation at all. He could substantiate his claim and return the Warrior Daughters to their laird. That would be the end of it.

He washed his hands in the basin of water near the screened end of the hall, drying them on the linen cloth one of the maidservants offered.

There was still one complication. Where the devil was Colban? And where was the lass he’d gone after? Without her, any encounter with the Laird of Rivenloch would be volatile indeed, for the laird was sure to blame Morgan for her disappearance.

He didn’t relish breaking the news to the fiery lass upstairs. Indeed, he’d half hoped Rivenloch would come today so he could banish the winsome, troublesome hellion from his household. Even if purging her from his mind might take a bit longer.

Finding his seat at the high table, he looked down at his cup of ale and smirked. Jenefer had half choked on their strong brew. Like everything else here, the Lowland ale was probably a diluted version of the Highland’s, with all the roughness smoothed away.

Except for Jenefer. She definitely had jagged edges. Like a thistle, she was a lovely flower above with thorny spikes beneath.

He glowered into his cup. Why the lass haunted his thoughts, he didn’t know. But he felt it wasn’t right.

Alicia had been gone for but a quarter of a year. Yet even now, he was beginning to have trouble recalling her face.

Instead, his thoughts were full of images of flashing green eyes and a sultry smile, waves of bronze-colored hair and a body to put a goddess to shame.

The way the lass had held Miles…Allison, he corrected…seemed so natural, as if the bairn belonged in her arms.

With a silent curse, he shook the feckless thought from his head. The child had belonged to sweet and gentle Alicia, he reminded himself. Not a sword-toting warrior wench who would sooner hold the bairn up as a human shield than rock him to sleep.

Morgan sighed. The beguiling lass was trouble. He had to be rid of her as soon as possible.

Once the meal was over, he took a platter of food upstairs and sent the guard down to fetch more peat for their fire. Then he knocked on the door, realizing as he did how ludicrous it was to knock on the door of one’s own bedchamber.

“Finally!” Jenefer exclaimed as she threw open the door in dubious welcome. “I thought perhaps you were going to starve us.”

He gathered his brows. “Didn’t a maidservant bring ye a midday meal?”

“Aye,” she said, “but that was hours ago.”

She practically mauled the platter out of his hands and dove into the roasted chicken as if she hadn’t eaten for days.

“Leave some for me, brat,” Feiyan said.

Morgan was fascinated, watching Jenefer. There was something raw and sensuous about the way she ate. She closed her eyes, savoring every morsel and licking her fingers with élan.

Alicia had never eaten like that. She’d always picked at her food with mild distaste, more so when she was carrying their child.

But it was foolish of him to make such comparisons. They were two different creatures, Alicia and Jenefer. Alicia had been like a prize falcon, requiring gentle treatment and careful coddling. Jenefer? She reminded him of a woodland wildcat.

He cleared his throat. “I thought you’d wish to know about your cousin.”

“Oh. Aye.” Jenefer honestly seemed more interested in the coffyns than in her cousin. “What of her?”

Feiyan appeared slightly more concerned. “Did your man find her?”

He shook his head. “He hasn’t returned.”

He caught a quick glimpse of Jenefer. He would have sworn she smiled at that.

“I hope she’s all right,” Feiyan murmured.

Jenefer mumbled cryptically, “I hope your man is all right.”

“If they’re not back on the morrow by midday, I’ll send another man.”

Those were his words. But he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to do that. They needed every man they could spare if a siege was to take place. And the last thing he wanted was to give the Laird of Rivenloch another hostage to use.

He just hoped the king’s messenger would arrive before then to relieve him of all this complicated intrigue.

The guard knocked on the door to deliver a bucket of extra peat.

Morgan stirred the fire and added several thick black chunks. “Ye seem to go through a great deal o’ fuel.”

“No doubt we’ll go through a great deal more,” Feiyan said sardonically, “now that we have no coverlets.”

With that, she brushed past him to visit the garderobe.

Once she was gone, Jenefer confided, “I was watching your soldiers from the window.”

“Aye?” He hunkered down to poke at the glowing coals.

“The knights are quite good,” Jenefer she told him between bites of chicken.

“They’re the best in the Highlands,” he said. It wasn’t a boast. It was the truth.

“That may be,” she said, “but they haven’t faced the knights of the Lowlands.”

“Not yet,” he admitted. But if Lowlanders couldn’t handle Highland ale, they probably couldn’t defend against Highland knights.

The peat caught fire. He leaned the poker against the hearth, dusted off his hands, and came to his feet.

“Your archers, however,” Jenefer said, wagging a chicken bone to emphasize her point, “need improvement.”

Morgan stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded and amused. He folded his arms over his chest.

“Is that so?”

How the wee lass could possibly think he would take military advice from her, he didn’t know.

“The small one needs a lighter bow,” she said, smacking her lips. “He’s not drawing it all the way back.”

That was true. Robert had left his own longbow for his younger brother in the Highlands, and there had been no time to make him a new one. So he was borrowing Colban’s bow, which was far too heavy for the lad.

“Also, that stocky one is flinching when he fires.” She licked her lips. “That’s what’s making his arrows go astray.”

Morgan blinked. How would she know that?

“And the one who keeps shooting to the left of the target? I’d wager he’s squeezing his right eye shut.”

“And ye know this because…”

She tossed the chicken bone down on the platter just as Feiyan was returning from the garderobe. “I’m a master archer.”

His lips twitched, but he forced himself not to smile. “I see.”

“Oh aye, she is,” Feiyan confirmed. “She’s better than all the men in her father’s retinue.”

“And your father’s retinue,” Jenefer said.

“And my father’s retinue,” Feiyan agreed.

Morgan gave them an indulgent smile. The Rivenloch archers must be poor indeed if they could be outshot by a lass.

On the other hand, she did seem to know a great deal about longbows. The weapon Danald had found beside her clothing in the wood seemed well-crafted and well-used.

Still, he couldn’t let her get any ideas about usurping his command. She was already trying to usurp his castle.

“Perhaps I shall call upon your counsel then, master archer, when I fill out my army at Creagor.”

That he’d audaciously claimed Creagor as his own didn’t escape her. Green fire flared in her eyes. She was still sputtering when he inclined his head in farewell and made his exit.