what matters now, Callan. Yers, and Adam’s, and the clan’s. Ye’ll find happiness again, I swear it.”
The memory of the dream flashed in Callan’s mind. He saw himself, holding the lassie with the crutches, his arm around the beautiful woman who held Adam. They’d been happy. They would be happy.
He’d be happy.
The keep was bustling around Callan as he made his way across the great hall. He hooked his thumbs in his belt and ducked his head, hoping no one would notice him. He had plenty to think about and didn’t need a distraction.
Alas, it did not work.
“Callan! ’Tis good to see ye.”
The familiar—and unexpected—voice snapped Callan’s attention to the tall, broad-shouldered newcomer striding across the hall toward him. His auburn curls weren’t tied back but floated around his face as he pushed back the hood of his cloak and lifted a fist in greeting.
Callan’s face split into a grin, not minding this interruption as much as he might’ve thought. “Tavish MacLeod, as I live and breathe! Ye’re visiting for Yule?”
The men reached one another in the middle of the hall and clasped forearms heartily.
“Nay!” Tav shook his head, sending a spray of snow falling to his shoulders. “I’m visiting for Hogmanay, but decided to come early.” He grinned unrepentantly. “I kenned ye wouldnae mind.”
Tavish was the nephew of Aunt Citrine’s husband, Rory MacLeod. He and his twin sister were not related to Callan by blood, but that didn’t matter; they’d grown up together as much as the rest of the families bound by the Sinclair Jewels.
“Ye kenned correctly.” Callan glanced around, noting the bag Tavish had dropped and the men who looked like they might be sailors, spreading out in the hall. “Did ye bring Charlotte? Or just this moldy band of pirates?”
Tav’s grin slipped a little. “Just the lads.”
Callan peered at his friend. He had enough on his mind right now, but ’twas hard to deny that Tav looked…out of sorts. And Tavish MacLeod never looked out of sorts.
“Is aught amiss?” Callan dropped his voice. “Anything I can help ye with?”
Not that he could imagine how he could help. Although no one in the family ever discussed it aloud, ’twas commonly assumed that Tav had taken up the black kilt when his Uncle Rory had married, and now masqueraded as the terror of the Minch, the Black Banner.
Nay, there’s no’ much I could do to help a pirate.
But Tavish blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand across his face. When he dropped it, his wry grin was back in place.
“Thank ye, nay. I’ve just been…” He shrugged. “Charlotte was sent to Finlaggen earlier this year to marry John MacDonald. She’s no’ happy, and keeps trying to find a way out of the betrothal contract before she’s forced to marry the bastard.”
Callan winced. “Yer father can do naught?”
“Will do naught, more like it.” Tav’s smile looked more like a grimace as he slammed a hand down on Callan’s shoulder. “But dinnae worry. If Da willnae put a stop to this marriage, I will.”
“As her twin brother?” Or as the North’s most notorious pirate?
This time Tav’s smile was wolfish—or would it be shark-like?—when he nodded, obviously hearing the unspoken question. “As her brother, who happens to be a close personal friend of the Black Banner.”
Chuckling, Callan shook his head. “Best of luck to ye, and let me ken how I can help. In the meantime, I can see why, with our mutual Uncle Rory being at the Sinclair keep, and yer sister being at Finlaggan, ye’d be looking for anywhere else besides Lewes to spend Yule.”
Tav’s teeth flashed as he bent to scoop up his bag. “I’ll take that as an invitation to stay as long as I want?’
“Ye and yer men are welcome.” Callan’s eyes swept the hall. “Celebrations start this evening, and as long as they behave, yer men can sleep here in the great hall.”
“They’ll be the best-mannered pirates ye ever did meet.” Tav swept a courtly bow. “And now, for me…”
Chuckling, Callan jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Jaimie is upstairs in our solar, and I dinnae ken where the rest of the bunch is. The women have been gathered in their solar, speaking of sewing and arts and marriage and whatever else women speak of when they’re no’ rushing about, planning menus and celebrations.”
Tavish nodded. “I’ll pay my respects to yer uncle first.”
“Ye recall Beck and Nolan?”
“Two of Sutherland’s notorious band of bastards?” Tav and his sister might share an uncle with the Sinclair