The Betrayal - By Ruth Langan Page 0,36

eager for the comfort of its stable. They clattered into the courtyard and almost at once the doors were thrown wide and a handsome young man came rushing outside. Though not as tall as Grant, he was much wider both in shoulders and in girth. A spark of merriment lurked in his gray eyes as he shouted, “Grant. You’ve been gone too long.”

“Aye, Dougal.” Grant slid from the back of his mount and embraced the sunny-haired young man.

“Was the journey difficult?”

“It was. But well worth it.” Grant turned and lifted Kylia from the saddle, keeping her within the warmth of his arms. “For look what my journey yielded.” He caught her hand and led her closer. “Kylia, of the clan Drummond, this is my brother Dougal.”

“Dougal.” Kylia smiled shyly. “Your brother speaks lovingly of you.”

“And well he should. For I’m his staunchest admirer.” The younger man chuckled at his little joke. “Welcome, my lady.” He pointed to the bundle tucked into the crook of her arm. “And what is this? Have you brought your bairn?”

That had both Grant and Kylia laughing.

“Not a bairn, but a wee pup.” She opened the wrap to reveal the sleeping creature.

Dougal stepped closer, then looked startled. “A wolf?”

“Aye. He was wounded, and I couldn’t leave him at the mercy of predators.”

“She’s named him Wee Lad. And I warn you, Dougal, she’s begun thinking of the pup as a pet.”

They looked up as Hazlet, wearing her usual nun’s garb of black gown and veil, stepped into the courtyard.

“Aunt Hazlet.” Grant crossed the distance between them to press a hand to her shoulder. “As you can see, my journey was successful. Come and meet the young woman who agreed to leave her Mystical Kingdom to aid in my search for the traitor.”

The smile on his aunt’s face faded as she lowered her voice. “You’ve actually brought a witch here to our home, Grant?”

“She isn’t what you’d expect, Aunt. Come. Help me make her welcome.” He placed a hand under her elbow and led her across the courtyard. “Kylia, of the clan Drummond, my aunt Hazlet.”

Kylia’s smile was warm. “Your nephew has spoken lovingly of you. How lucky he and Dougal are to have you in their lives.”

“Indeed.” Hazlet caught sight of the pup in her arms. “Is that what I think it is?”

“A wolf pup, Aunt. His name is Wee Lad.” Dougal couldn’t hide his delight as the hounds circled Kylia’s feet, sniffing at the hem of her gown. One of the bolder ones actually stood on hind legs to sniff at the bundle in her arms, until Grant ordered it down. “I must warn you, my lady, that your pet could well become a tasty morsel for the hounds.”

“Then I shall have to keep special watch to see that doesn’t happen, Dougal, until he’s big enough to do the same to them.” Kylia watched as the servants gathered around Grant, bidding him a warm welcome home.

After greeting them with affection, he began the introductions. “I present the lady Kylia of the clan Drummond. My lady, this is Mistress Gunn, who has been housekeeper of Duncrune Castle since my father was a lad.”

Kylia nodded toward the stick-thin little woman who dropped a curtsy as though meeting the queen.

When she straightened, Grant added, “Have the servants prepare the western wing for our guest, Mistress Gunn.”

“The western wing? But that would put your guest in the chambers beside yours.”

“Aye.” He saw his aunt’s stern gaze sharpen.

“This is our cook, Mester.” Grant turned to a woman as round as she was tall, with a stark white linen apron tied around her ample middle. “Mester, the lady Kylia.”

The cook bowed her head before wiping her hands on her apron and taking a step backward, as though afraid to get too close to a witch.

“Our stable master, Gresham.”

Tall, gaunt, wearing his plaid tossed over a saffron shirt with voluminous sleeves, the man looked more like a preacher than a Highland stable master.

He doffed his cap and greeted Kylia with a long, assessing look, before saying, “Welcome, my lady.”

He took up the reins of their horse and led it across the courtyard.

“And the man who has fought beside my father, and my father’s father. Finlay MacCallum is a cousin to me, and a trusted friend.”

Kylia’s smile was as warm as sunshine. “Finlay.”

“My lady.” The old man’s smile was equally warm. “I bid you welcome to Duncrune Castle.”

“Thank you.”

“Come inside and warm yourselves.” The housekeeper pinched one of the serving wenches, who held the