particularly funny but because it eased the worry and tension that wound them both so tightly.
A soulful howl came from outside the door after Fiona had departed, and Jenny went to open it, letting in old Dom. Her father’s hound padded across the floor and went to curl up beneath her father’s desk, a task that was quite a feat for his size. Jenny crouched low, stroking a hand over the hound’s back.
“I miss him too,” she murmured.
Seventeen
Toran looked up just in time to see a massive wool sack hurtling toward his head. He caught it before it decapitated him and let out a grunt at the weight and impact against his chest.
Dirk stood before him, lifting another sack and tossing it toward him as though he were throwing snowballs and not woven sacks packed full.
Again Toran caught it and placed it on the pile. They’d been doing exercises like this all morning, lifting and tossing the sacks to hone their muscles. Today it was sacks of wool; tomorrow might be cabers or boulders. It seemed as though Dirk was trying to challenge him in this exercise instead of another all-out fight.
Toran was willing to take that challenge.
Dirk threw the next sack a little harder, the impact taking Toran’s breath. He chucked it onto the pile. The next one caused him to take a step back. Rather than toss it onto the growing mountain, he chucked it back at Dirk, hard as the man had thrown it at him. If he wanted to challenge him, fine, but Toran didn’t have to take the abuse.
The man looked surprised, but then he grinned and threw the same sack right back at Toran. He leapt back to catch it, a grin of his own matching Dirk’s. So this was how it was going to be. He was ready.
They danced in a circle, tossing the sack back and forth until they were both sweating and a ring of men had formed around them.
Then Archie leapt into the center, arms outstretched to catch the sack in midair as it hurtled toward Dirk. He tossed it to Angus, who tossed it to Camdyn, and around and around they went. Toran picked up another sack, passing it back to Dirk, until it was stolen. Again and again until half of the pile they’d previously stacked was flying through the air and the bailey echoed with shouts of laughter and calls for men to pass.
But just as suddenly as the game began, it ended. Jenny appeared, dressed in her trews and frock coat, light-golden hair braided down her back. She was frowning yet utterly beautiful. Her face was drawn, and she scanned her gaze over the men.
“I’ve a need to have a word with ye. Both of ye.” She pointed at Toran and Dirk and then turned to head back to the castle without explanation.
Toran tossed his brother the sack he’d been holding and hurried to catch up with Dirk. Seemed they were both in trouble if she was calling them inside together. Hell.
Perhaps that had been Dirk’s plan.
The logical part of Toran’s brain denied both those ideas. Jenny was clearly disturbed by something, and it wasn’t the men throwing bags around.
She led them up the stairs to a dimly lit study with shelves lined with books.
“Shut the door,” she instructed.
Toran did as she asked and followed Dirk to the center of the room, mimicking his posture of standing with his hands behind his back at attention.
“I’ve had some news that will change some of our plans,” she stated. “We’re still going to Glenfinnan, so dinna try to argue that point. But it would seem the prince has arrived with few reinforcements and no provisions. He is spending time at Kinlochmoidart and also sometimes on his ship.” She told them about what she’d learned from her courier. “I canna know more until we go and meet with him, but I do know this. We haven’t come this far to give up. We didna sacrifice so much of ourselves and have others give their lives for us to pack it up now.”
Toran nodded, but Dirk was shaking his head.
“Dinna speak yet,” she said, holding up her hand. “I’m no’ finished. We will go to Glenfinnan, but we will not bring the supplies as originally planned. And we will go with a small group so as to avoid raising suspicion with the dragoons. When I thought we might be leading those bastards to an army of Frenchmen, that was a