symbolically take it for herself. Jenny sat to the right of her brother’s seat and across—for the first time in months—from her mother.
Lady Mackintosh had not come down to eat with the clan in so long that Jenny couldn’t clearly remember the last time. This time, her graying chestnut hair was swept up into a knot atop her head, with curling tendrils framing her face. She wore a plain gown but a gown nonetheless, a whale-boned bodice and full skirts over panniers. Though dark circles still graced the undersides of her green eyes, her skin was no longer sallow but held a note of life. She sipped delicately from her spoon and then tore off a hunk of bread to dip into the bowl of cold pea soup.
“Mama,” Jenny started, hoping she wasn’t asking too much of her mother too soon. “Do ye want to walk in the garden after we sup?”
Lady Mackintosh set down her spoon and glanced up at her. “Aye, that would be—”
A loud knock silenced her mother, and every head in the great hall swiveled in the direction of the archway that led to the front doors.
Her brother’s men must have come early.
“Show them in,” Jenny ordered the guards who stood sentry. They nodded, leaving the great hall along with her appetite.
Jenny set down her spoon and smiled tightly at her mother. “Hamish’s men will be on their way shortly, Mama. Go ahead and finish your meal.”
Jenny stood from the table, prepared to meet the men in the entry hall and offer them sustenance before showing them their wagons. Ideally they’d be willing to turn and leave right away, but they’d likely prefer at least a night of rest. But as she drew closer to the archway, the voices she heard did not sound like those of men, but rather…a lass. A lad. And…nay. It couldn’t be!
What the devil?
Jenny quickened her pace, concern and fear ripping into her chest. Her footsteps drew to a halt in the dimly lit entryway when she saw exactly who’d come through her door with Mac at his side. Toran MacGillivray Fraser.
Standing behind him was another stranger flanked by two adolescents. But she had no interest in those. Staring at Toran, she felt like she’d been punched in the gut. The last time they’d spoken, they’d been threatening to kill each other, and then he’d disappeared.
A day’s worth of growth peppered his cheeks, giving him that rough look she found both intimidating and intriguing. The corner of his mouth twitched as though he wanted to smile but couldn’t allow himself to do so. And his eyes…oh, the danger in those eyes as they swept over her. His look sent unwanted chills of excitement racing over her skin. This was wrong. Very wrong.
Jenny allowed herself half a moment more to study him before shifting her gaze to the individuals he’d brought inside her keep and Mac.
At Toran’s side were a lad who appeared to be his spitting image and a lass who looked very familiar but whom she was certain she’d never met.
Her gaze was drawn back to Toran’s. Blast it all, but his damned blue eyes made her melt and rallied her ire at the same time.
“Mac, what is he doing here?” The harsh words snapped out of Jenny’s mouth despite the fact that she was actually pleased to see he was still alive, if only because she wanted to be the one to kill him.
After her conversation with Dirk, the memory of those ice-blue eyes and the fear that he’d come back and bring with him a horde of dragoons had stolen away her sleep the past few nights.
Seeing him now, her palms slickened enough she wanted to slap herself into sanity.
“He’s brought us Simon Fraser, Mistress.”
“Ye’re in the Mackintosh castle,” Toran interrupted Mac’s explanation with a cock of his head, but before she could retort and admonish her guard for having brought the enemy into their midst, he continued, “’Tis good to see ye too…my lady.” The last bit was drawled in his scratchy brogue, as though he weren’t certain how to address her.
Och, but why did he have to do that? She was grateful for his caution and irritated all the same.
“What are ye doing here, Fraser?” she asked again. “And who are the ragamuffins ye’ve brought with ye?”
The lass pouted in turn, and the lad puffed his chest. His frown mirrored Toran’s, causing Jenny a flicker of guilt. The man beside them all who looked a wee