Chieftain By Command (Chieftain Series ~ Book 2) by Frances Housden

Author:Frances Housden
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2014-09-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

The next day the riders came back without Andrew Finlay. That settled the matter as far as Magnus was concerned; Finlay had murdered Grogan and run off to avoid punishment. Gavyn wasn’t as certain as his constable. He’d had a conversation with the lieutenant responsible for giving Finlay his orders. He had sent him to relieve one of two mercenaries whose tasks were patrolling the boundaries of Comlyn lands, and the tale that the lieutenant had had from Finlay had been all about getting his silver and settling down with Flora.

To Gavyn’s mind, it didn’t sound like a man out to murder his rival, though the notion of Finlay’s share of the bounty being divided amongst the other mercenaries had put a grin on some of their faces, living up to their names.

While all the mercenaries and clansmen at Dun Bhuird had tasks to keep their hands and minds busy, it wasn’t so bad; it was in the evenings over the meal and too much ale that quarrels broke out. How many heads would he have to knock together until they settled down?

The Highlanders felt their places were being usurped; on the other side of the problem, he had promised the mercenaries who were willing to stay with him that they would have a place to live, to make a home. In return, he had the use of their experienced sword arms. Peaceful as it seemed for the moment, he knew that couldn’t last, and he was ever a man who liked to plan ahead.

Within another day or so, Dun Bhuird settled back into its normal way of doing things. The barley was harvested and the brewmaster rubbed his hands together, forecasting ale of an exceptional quality since the summer had been long and dry. The masons were making progress on the curtain wall; the most noticeable difference was in the rising gate towers. If Gavyn closed his eyes and squinted, he could imagine them standing grey, tall and threatening above the gates with his men guarding the heights against intruders, and as he considered how it might appear to invaders, Harald Comlyn returned to Dun Bhuird.

Waiting by the auld gates, Gavyn watched him ride across the short, dry stubble left by the harvest. There was a manner about him and the way he rode that spoke arrogance—said that he would have taken the same route whether the crops had been harvested or still waved in a sea of gilt in the long glen.

Harald pulled up beside him but didn’t deign to dismount, simply gave a half-hearted salute, a crooked finger to the side of his bonnet like a snide insult. Truth to tell, it took but a moment’s study to realise Harald was a poor version of subtle, so Gavyn replied in kind, “A lot of folk hoped you had decided to stay away from Dun Bhuird, me among them.”

“I’m sorry to thwart their expectations,” Harald smirked. “Nae that’s a lie. It gives me nae end of pleasure to disappoint them all.

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