feeling of pure contentment.
“I will say ye’re a damn sight happier than ye were when I left.” Magnus held up his arm and waited.
A piercing cry split the air, then the small grey-blue bird of prey landed on his forearm, cocked its head at Sutherland, and emitted a series of chirrups as it settled its wings.
“Greetings to ye too, wee buzzard.” Sutherland winked at Magnus. “I am quite content, thank ye. The role of husband has turned out to be quite to my liking,” he admitted with a quiet laugh. “Never would I have thought it possible.”
“I wouldna have laid odds on that either,” Magnus retorted as the falcon walked up his arm and perched on his shoulder.
They meandered across the stretch of wall at the front of the keep, turned at the first tower, and continued along the side of the protective barrier overlooking the sparkling waters of the River Spey. Magnus motioned toward the inner courtyard below. “Is that not yer lovely wife there pawing through the dirt with Mistress Jenny?”
Sorcha and Jenny, kneeling on paths of straw carefully spread between the muddy turned rows of the kitchen garden, were bent to the task of sowing seeds and transplanting tender young sprouts that had been nurtured in bowls in the steamy heat of the kitchens.
“Aye, that be her. She wanted to help with getting the garden started before we left for Tor Ruadh after the celebration.” Thank the saints the stubborn woman had relented and not worn those damn trews of hers. They had argued quite the while this morning about her attire, but he had, at last, convinced her that the cleft of her fine round arse was for his viewing pleasure alone. He stopped walking and gave the gardeners his full attention as Garthin Napier joined them and interrupted the ladies’ labors. “What the hell does that bastard think he’s doing now?”
Garthin squatted on a patch of straw spread one row across from the women, smiling and chatting with them as they worked. His attention appeared more focused on Sorcha, which ignited an immediate raging possessiveness in Sutherland.
“He and his mother need to be shed of this place before I fertilize that garden with his bones,” he growled, leaning farther over the wall to better observe Garthin’s every twitch.
Head tilted, Magnus watched the scene below with a look that annoyed the hell out of Sutherland. “Since when have ye been a jealous man? I’ve never seen ye like this. Are ye that unsure of yerself now that ye’re married?”
“I am not jealous.” Sutherland resented the implication that he felt threatened by the insignificant Garthin. “Nor am I unsure of myself!” He stabbed the air, pointing down at Garthin. “Sorcha doesna like that fool. Nor does she trust his mother. She wants them both gone, and I agree wholeheartedly. The keep would be much improved with their leaving.”
“Shall I send Merlin to fly over and shite on the man’s head?” Magnus offered with a grin.
Still perched on his handler’s shoulder, the bird softly chirruped at the mention of his name. He fluttered his wings, eying Sutherland as though waiting for the command to strike.
Sutherland didn’t grace either the bird or the man with a response. Instead, he paced back and forth a short distance, watching Garthin and waiting for the bastard to make the slightest insulting move.
“Not to defend the man,” Magnus said after a long, tensed silence of stalking the gardeners below. “But he does seem to be discussing the ways of growing things.” He motioned down at them. “Look. He’s helping them with the spacing of the new plants.”
“He should be helping his mother’s maid pack their things so they can get the hell out of here.” Sutherland would tolerate no generosity toward Garthin. Not when every word that fell from the man’s lips was either antagonistic, petty, or insulting. He doubted the fool possessed the ability to hold a civil conversation with anyone. He hadn’t witnessed the man getting on well with a single person at the keep other than Jenny, and that hardly counted. Jenny befriended one and all.
Sutherland relaxed somewhat when Heckie stepped out of the shadows and joined the trio digging in the dirt. Oddly enough, Heckie glanced up at him and even lifted a hand in a hesitant, awkward greeting. Sutherland nodded in return. He hadn’t shared more than a few words with Sorcha’s strange friend since he had knocked him on his arse, but the man didn’t appear to