to her spot on the floor. “Is that when the people were freed?”
“Aye, lass, that is when the people were freed.”
She nodded approvingly. “Good.” Grabbing up another wooden toy, she asked, without looking, “Have ye ever slayed an infidel?”
He scratched his stubbled jaw and pretended to think about it. “One or two, I suppose.”
Worried over where the conversation or story would go next, Keevah left the bed. “Mayhap it is time to eat?”
“Auntie Bess gave us sweet cakes,” Brigid told her.
“Auntie Bess?” Keevah asked.
Lachlan was still smiling warmly at the little girl. “The cook. She and Brigid have become fast friends.”
“I see. Well, mayhap yer auntie Bess will give us a sweet cake?” She held out her hand to Brigid.
“It is awfully busy below stairs,” he said hoping she’d catch on. Getting to his feet he said, “I will go.”
“Really, Lachlan,” she said. “Do ye nae think I dunnae ken what goes on here?”
He leaned in and whispered, “I ken ye do. But should Brigid?”
She supposed he was right. “Verra well, I shall go below stairs. Ye stay here with Lachlan.” Before leaving, she gave him a stern look of warning that said, no more terrifying stories of death or killing infidels.
The conversation he so desperately wanted to have with Keevah hadn’t taken place as he’d planned. Murdoch had returned in time for the evening meal, fell onto a pallet and fell asleep almost instantly. But first, Keevah had made him promise to tell her everything that had transpired after she and Lachlan had left that morn.
Keevah washed Brigid’s face and hands and combed her hair until it shined. They talked for at least an hour before they too, fell asleep.
In the morning, he told himself. When this place is quiet.
While everyone else slept like the dead, Lachlan could not. He had far too much on his mind. Most of his thoughts surrounded Keevah and their future together. He wanted her as his wife, his partner, the mother of his children. He wanted her in every good sense of the word.
As he lay in the dark of night, he imagined their keep filled with children running about, happy, content, and protected. Should anything ever happen to him, he had no doubt that Richard and Aeschene would take care of them.
He imagined Keevah lying in his arms in their own bed, a soft fire crackling in their hearth. Warm, soft furs draped across warm, soft skin. Their nights filled with loving and passion. Their days busy, filled with all the good things life had to offer.
A scraping sound floated up from the alley below, breaking his quiet reverie. Stealthily, he leapt from the cot, silently withdrew his sword as he pulled back the fur.
A dense, heavy fog filled the night sky.
Someone is out there. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as his pulse quickened. Straining his eyes, he quieted his breathing to listen.
A long, tense moment passed by before he heard another sound. The soft footfalls of boots across cobblestone. Slow, careful, measured steps.
Quickly, he slid his feet into his boots, grabbed his cloak and made his way down the stairs. Ignoring the noisy, boisterous goings on in the bedchambers, and even noisier events taking placing in the greeting room, he went to the kitchens and slipped out the back door.
Standing in the foggy alley, he paused to listen. The sounds of raucous laughter coming from the brothel and the tavern next door were the only sounds he could now hear.
Stealthily, he made his way to the end of the alley, paused and listened, scanning the area all around him.
After a long while, he felt certain whomever had been here was now gone. Just as quietly as he had arrived, he went back inside and slid into his cot.
He didn’t sheath his sword, instead, kept it right beside him.
His gut told him the footfalls were a harbinger of things to come.
Chapter Thirteen
If he had ever possessed a doubt about the rightness of his work, it was immediately relinquished the moment he saw Keevah step out of the brothel and into the alleyway.
Oh, he’d been watching, waiting, learning to see how long it took before Forveleth’s dead body had been discovered. The faster the body was discovered the more exciting the game was. Tempting fate? He thought not; ’twas all part of the game.
He’d been just another face in the crowd as he’d been the previous times. Just another nosy onlooker. He’d even commented once or twice,