then quickly narrowed to slivers.
“Ye brought the Black MacLeod back with ye?” he asked Lady Roberta in a hissed whisper, as if Gregor weren’t standing right there.
“Aye,” she replied evenly. “That was exactly why I went to the Games in the first place—to find a warrior to help us with the Gunns.”
Lamond eyed him. Gregor had no idea what the gossips said about him behind his back. He was strong, though, which usually engendered either fear or respect—and in either case, a fair bit of exaggeration.
Gregor crossed his arms over his chest, staring Lamond down. Whatever the captain thought, it didn’t matter. He was no longer in charge. Gregor was.
“Birdie!”
The excited squeal interrupted the two men’s silent standoff. A lass with hair a few shades lighter than Lady Roberta’s burst from the keep, her arms wide.
Birdie? Gregor watched as the two women embraced. Their resemblance was unmistakable. This must be the younger sister Lady Roberta—or Birdie, at least to her family— had mentioned on their ride.
The younger lass began peppering her sister with questions about her trip, the Games, and her early return. While the women talked, Gregor eased a step closer to Lamond.
“Why did ye let Lady Roberta go to the Caithness Games without a proper escort?” he murmured, quietly enough to be sure the lady in question didn’t overhear.
“I didnae let her,” the captain replied through gritted teeth. “I insisted on accompanying her, along with a contingent of twenty men, but she refused.”
“Why?”
“The Laird is also away,” Lamond muttered. “She didnae think it wise to leave the castle with so few men to defend it should the Gunns grow overbold.”
Gregor considered that. It was probably wise on the lass’s part not to leave the keep underguarded, especially in these tumultuous times. Still, Lamond’s decision-making was faulty if he didn’t understand the need to protect this gem of a woman—his Laird’s eldest daughter no less.
“And ye let her tell ye what to do, when it is yer job to ensure the safety of no’ only the castle, but also the Morgan Laird’s family?”
“Ye keep using that word, let,” Lamond said, lifting a sandy eyebrow at Gregor. “Ye must no’ ken Lady Roberta verra well if ye arenae aware that such a word doesnae apply to her.”
Gregor frowned at the captain. “I’ll be doing things differently from now on, Lamond.”
“Ye arenae needed here, MacLeod. Morgans can handle their own business.” Lamond kept his voice low, but it was edged with sour resentment.
“Apparently no’.”
At Gregor’s flat jab, the man opened his mouth for a retort, but they were interrupted by Lady Roberta’s melodic voice.
“Gregor MacLeod, meet my sister, Lady Tessa Morgan. Tess, MacLeod will be helping us keep Morgan lands safe.”
The younger lass looked from her sister to Gregor, taking him in from his boots to his head. As she progressed, her hazel eyes grew increasingly rounded.
Gregor was used to causing such a reaction in lasses—shock at his size, usually followed by trepidation at his ever-present grim scowl. Which made his first encounter with Lady Roberta all the more astounding.
To Tessa’s credit, she didn’t step behind her sister or shrink back in fear.
“Pleased to meet you,” she said faintly.
“Come inside, everyone,” Lady Roberta said, her voice carrying an easy yet unquestionable authority that was usually reserved for a Laird.
Lamond and Gregor fell in behind Lady Roberta and Tessa, with the guards who’d accompanied them from the Caithness Games lowering the portcullis and dragging the doors closed after them.
The castle’s great hall was modest in size, yet tidy and well appointed. A wooden table with seating for only six sat atop a raised dais on the back wall. As the hour was late, the trestle tables and benches had been pushed to the sides of the room. The walls were hung with tapestries and the Morgan coat of arms, and lined with finely wrought iron sconces holding lit torches.
“Is Father back yet?” Gregor overheard Lady Roberta ask Tessa as they strode across the hall.
“Nay, no’ yet,” Tessa replied.
Lady Roberta cast a glance back at Lamond, who silently confirmed the Laird’s absence with a nod.
Her brows pinched. “I suppose an introduction—and an explanation—will have to wait, then.”
Something in her tone of voice set off a warning bell in the back of Gregor’s mind. She was nervous to face her father. Mayhap even afraid. Involuntarily, Gregor’s gut clenched. He would be sure to be there when the Laird returned to the castle.
“It is better to ask forgiveness than beg permission, Birdie,” Tessa said, giving