Page 43 of The Laird's Masked Passion

“Send Morag. She has sense enough tae speak gently and strength enough tae stay after.”

“I’ll see it done.”

“His funeral is tae be arranged at once. Full honors. His widow is tae have coin from me purse, nae from household accounts. Food, firewood, whatever she needs. The widow and child will never beg under me roof or on me land.”

Breac’s face softened by the smallest degree. “I kent ye would say it.”

“Then why are ye still standing here?”

“Because I also ken ye would ride before hearing the rest.”

Colin’s fingers closed around the sword belt. “There is more?”

“Tracks. More than one man. Murdoch says at least six, perhaps eight. They crossed in and out near the ridge. The rain muddied some of it, but nae all.”

Colin buckled his belt.

Breac watched him. “If they entered the land?—”

“They have.” Colin reached for his cloak. “Gather Murdoch and twelve men, but dae it quietly. I want nay panic in the castle.”

He fastened the clasp.

“Ye will stay here.”

Breac’s brow lifted. “I am more useful at the border.”

“Ye are more usefulhere.”

Understanding moved across Breac’s face. “Ferher.”

“Fer the castle,” Colin corrected.

Breac, wisely, did not smile. “Aye. The castle.”

“If any stranger comes through the gates, hold him. If any servant behaves oddly, watch him. Nay one leaves without yer permission. Nay one enters without mine.”

“And Lady Elspeth?”

Colin looked toward the door, as if she might be standing beyond it with some insolent remark prepared to make him regret every order he had ever given.

“She is nae tae wander alone.”

Breac’s mouth twitched. “Have ye toldherthat?”

“Nay.”

“Then I wish ye courage.”

Colin gave him a flat look.

Breac was on the verge of chuckling. “I’ll keep watch.”

Within minutes the courtyard filled with controlled movement. Men tightened straps, checked blades, and murmured to one another in low voices. Colin crossed the stones with Murdoch at his side, and the dark mood that had plagued him since morning sharpened into something cleaner.

This he understood, the idea of an enemy bold enough to step onto his land. There was no confusion in that, only threat and answer.

Murdoch swung into his saddle. “Munro?”