The Chieftain's Curse (Chieftain Series ~ Book 1) by Frances Housden

Author:Frances Housden [Housden, Frances]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780857990242
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises Pty Ltd, Australia
Published: 2015-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

As if walking on air, Nhaimeth almost skipped across the bailey in the direction of the stables. He had a kerchief filled with food from the kitchen along with a flask of wine that he hadn’t had to ask for—he and Rob being heroes, so to speak.

Rob, at least, was treated like a hero by one and all, with slaps on the back and offers of ale that had got a bit much for the lad. He wasn’t wont to drink ale that hadn’t been watered down and, in no time at all, Morag was chasing Rob off to the stables while his legs still held him.

Nhaimeth’s own case was slightly different. Folk who knew him managed a pat on the shoulder, but others, most of Ruthven ilk, laughed at the notion that a wee Fool had the temerity to imagine he could take on a Comlyn rogue intent on harming the McArthurs.

If only they knew.

He’d had a wee laugh up his sleeve at that one, and an ale or two besides, but kept away from what the lowlanders called whisky, and highlanders had named, uisge beatha, water of life.

At the foot of the steps leading to the loft, he shouted up to Rob, “Are you awake up there?”

The Rob peeped over the edge. “I am that, Nhaimeth. After the day we had, I’m too excited to sleep.” He could see the lad eyeing the bundle. “If that’s food you’re carrying, come up and welcome.” Then he laughed, “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse, even Diabhal.”

“I think the McArthur might object,” said Nhaimeth, his foot on the first step of the ladder. Two from the top he tossed the bundle up to the lad who lay back comfortably on the hay.

“Never mind the McArthur, Diabhal would eat me first,” he chuckled as Nhaimeth settled beside him in the hay and Rob untied the kerchief. “A meal fit for Canmore himself. ’Tis a while since I dined so well.”

“Dinnae blame that on the McArthur. You would eat better if you came into the Great Hall for your supper instead of scrounging in the kitchen,” he said, with a lift of an eyebrow. Nhaimeth knew better than most that everyone was welcome at the laird’s table, even a wee Fool like himself.

“It’s because of Morag. She would be embarrassed.”

The confession shocked Nhaimeth. “By her brother? I very much doubt that. She thinks the world of you.”

“Ach that’s not what I meant,” Rob mumbled over the top of a leg of roast capercaillie. “I feel she would be embarrassed for me to see her sitting at the high table at the McArthur’s left hand.” He flung himself back against the hay to clean the rest of the meat from the bone. For all his size, Rob was more sensible to the feelings of others than many his age. Young Alexander was a perfect example.

Nhaimeth looked down at the flask of wine in his hands and pried open the top with his short thick fingers before taking a slurp.

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