Page 38 of Katie's Highlander (Highland Protector 3)
Ramsay rinsed away the suds with the wet rag, grabbed a generous-size linen that was folded beside the basin, and turned to Gordon as he dried off. The man just stood there. Staring back at him. Looking like he was waiting for Ramsay to run him through with a sword.
Hell’s fire and demon’s bollocks.“Friend or foe, man? Are they a danger to the Heartstone?” That question should damn sure get the stubborn fool talking.
Gordon’s entire persona shifted as he vehemently jerked his head back and forth. “Nay, m’chieftain. Clan Ross is true t’the blessed stone and the goddesses. I swear it.”
Ramsay yanked on the freshléinethat one of the maids had carefully laid across the bed. “Then what the hell is wrong with Clan Ross?” The black short coat was next, then he completed the ensemble with his kilt, boots, dagger, and short sword. He didna care t’wear a pair of this century’s trews. Snugging his belt in place, he glared at Gordon. “Answer me afore I choke it out of ye.”
Gordon gave him a thoughtful look then shifted in place with the uneasy shuffling of a man struggling with an embarrassing confession. “They live closest to the ancient MacDara lands. They tended the broch and all that was left after the men of the north…” His voice trailed off and he looked away, unable to face Ramsay any longer.
It was obvious that Gordon didna wish t’bring up the one time that the clans had failed in their oath to fight alongside and support the guardians of the stone. ’Twas a shame all the druid clans shared. ’Twas only by the benevolent stepping in of the goddesses that the stone wasna captured.MáthairandAthairboth had oft spoken of it. Even the druids of the twenty-first century repeatedly apologized for their ancestors’ failure. ’Twas time for Ramsay t’speak the words he’d oft heard his parents say.
“All things happen for a reason, Gordon.” Ramsay walked over and clapped a hand on Gordon’s shoulder. “We all are nothing more than mere mortals, struggling t’do what’s right and true. Sometimes, we fail.” He squeezed Gordon’s shoulder and gave it a friendly shake. “But what matters—is that we tried.”
Gordon bowed his head.
“Aye,” he finally whispered then lifted his head and gave Ramsay one of his rare looks that was the closest the man ever came to a smile. He dipped his chin with a decisive jerk then yanked open the door and waited beside it. “To the feast, m’chieftain.”
“To the feast.”
Chapter 16
May the goddesses leave us here forever.This place, this time—this was where he belonged. He felt the truth of it in every fiber of his being. He could already see himself sitting in this same chair, years and years from now, with Katie sitting beside him, and they’d be flanked by their many strong sons.Aye. This is m’home. Surely, she’ll learn t’love this time as much as I.
Ramsay reached over and covered Katie’s hand with his, contentment filling him even more when she turned to him and smiled.
“Again, yer breathtaking,” he said in a low tone to protect their conversation from the ever-inquisitive ears of the servants lined up along the wall behind them.
And she was. The rich deep blue of her gown made Katie’s ivory skin glow—he couldna wait t’free her from it and lend an even fiercer glow to the tempting mounds of her bosom swelling above the low neckline of the dress’s tightly laced bodice.
“Thank you,” Katie replied before sipping from her bronze goblet and returning her attention to the crowd in front of them that was filling several benches in the great hall. She leaned closer and held the goblet in front of her face to hide her words. “Is there anything I need to know about this Clan Ross? Flora was tightlipped the whole time she was dressing me. That issonot like her. Is something weird going to happen since they arrived to share Clan MacTavish’s feast?”
Ramsay had wondered the verra same thing himself because of Gordon’s odd behavior regarding the arrival of Clan Ross. But before he could answer, Gordon MacTavish rose from his seat at the far end of the chieftain’s table. In a booming voice that echoed across the hall, he lifted his glass and turned to Ramsay. “High Chief. Bearer of Scota’s spear. Mighty protector of the blessed stone…bid ye that we welcome Clan Ross and allow them entry to join us in this feast?”
Odd.A dread-laced premonition sent a shot of adrenaline through him. If a guest was no’ an enemy, permission need not be requested to enter the great hall and seek counsel with the chieftain. Ramsay lifted his own cup. “Aye. I bid Clan Ross welcome.” Then he feigned a sip of the mead—if something ill was about, he didna need alcohol fogging his senses. No sooner had he set his cup back on the table, than one of the servants at the wall behind him hurried to top it off.
The crowd of men and women seated at the tables running lengthwise in front of the main table, which was centered on the wide dais, all raised their glasses and responded in kind, “Aye!”
The double doors at the other end of the room swung open, revealing a small group of no more than ten or so men. One of the men at the back of the group stood a head taller than all the rest. His brawny, broad-shouldered appearance made the other men beside him appear small and diminutive. But it was also quite apparent that this man, this young man who looked as though he had the potential to be a fierce warrior, was determined t’lag at the very back, waiting until all the others had entered, as though he had no right to expect anything different.
A white-haired man, bent in form and with hands slightly trembling, bearing the broach of Clan Ross on his shoulder, led the men through the maze of tables in the hall, and brought them to stand directly in front of the chieftain’s table.
With head bowed and holding tightly to his staff, the elderly man lifted his hand over his head in a submissive gesture. “Forgive me, Protector, for no’ takin’ a knee. If I do, I fear I’ll ne’er rise again. But I assure ye, Clan Ross reveres ye like no other.”
The rest of the group quickly dropped to the floor, obediently kneeling behind their leader.
Ramsay stood and placed his fist to his chest. “I’m honored by Clan Ross’s presence. Join us in Clan MacTavish’s feast.” Judging by the age of Clan Ross’s elderly chief, the man had probably knownAthairwhen he was in his prime. Ramsay wanted to put the Ross at ease. Have him regale them with stories of their history.
The Ross men remained on their knees and bowed their heads even lower, but their chief lifted his troubled gaze. He visibly flinched when his attention settled on Katie. With a sad shake of his head, he bowed again.
“Forgive me, m’chieftain,” the old man muttered loud enough for Ramsay to hear. “Forgive me,” he repeated, then turned and held out a hand to the double doors that were still wide open. “This matter must be seen to first. Enter and speak yer claim,” he called out in a deep voice that belied his years.
A woman, short and slight in frame and form except for her more than generous bustline, rushed in through the doors and trotted through the assembly to take her place beside Clan Ross’s chieftain. She came to a stop, lifted her chin, and smoothed down her faded dress. With a smile that left no delusions as to her intent, she snugged both hands up against her tightly cinched bodice and arched her back, effectively presenting her large breasts for all to admire.
Her greasy blond hair was streaked with gray and her poor attempt at a bun on the back of her head had the wispy strands falling down about her neck and shoulders. She had a round face with reddened cheeks that glowed even brighter as she beamed up at Ramsay. With an exaggerated swing of her hips, she sashayed closer to the dais, curtsied in front of Ramsay, then bowed low, giggling as she tucked an escaped nipple back inside the low neckline of herléine.
“Wow,” Katie murmured in a low voice meant for Ramsay only. “All she needs is music and a pole.”
A pole?Before he could comment, the woman rose and held out a hand to the impressive young man included in the ranks of Clan Ross’s kneeling men. The lad remained on bended knee with his head bowed. “M’fair chieftain…nay, my wondrous lover of years past, I present t’ye—yer son.”
