"There you are!" Blaine hissed the second Saeran walked into the kitchen. Saeran paused, looking at her sister uneasily.

"I didn't take too long, did I?" she asked, adjusting her cap. In truth, she'd taken much less time than she would have preferred. Half-way through her bath, she'd felt the oddest sensation of eyes gazing upon her. Though she hadn't seen anyone who would have been watching, the thought had her leaving the creek.

The cool water had done its job. Her aching muscles were soothed, and it was easier to walk on her leg. She'd nearly cried when she saw how red and angry it looked, but she had held back the tears. No one would have to see it, and it would heal on its own. The trews had created a barrier between the hoof and her body, so no skin had torn. Thankfully, there was no a chance for infection. It would only create more problems with Blaine if she suddenly took ill.

"Yes," Blaine snapped. "You did! The laird has arrived, and you were not here to greet him. Because of the embarrassment you caused, I could not make myself face him."

Saeran grimaced. "I'm sorry, Blaine. I didn't mean to take so long, I swear it. I was kicked by a horse today—"

"I don't care about that!" her sister said, incredulous. "I care that my own darling, little sister wasn't here to support me in my time of need! How would you feel if we switched places and I was not there for you, eh?"

Saeran stared at her sister, silent.

"Exactly. Now that I see you've cleaned yourself up, accompany me to the dining hall. We will have to make up for your lapse in responsibility—once again—and greet the laird. Do not act so selfish in the future," her sister chastised. Shaking her head in disappointment, she bustled out of the kitchen. Saeran followed at a slower place. She felt like she had just been slapped in the face.

She'd gotten hurt, and her sister hadn't cared. The horse could have killed her had she been but a space forward. Luckily, it had only clipped her thigh, but the fact that her sister didn't care...

Her throat tightened.

No, she chided herself. My sister is under a lot of pressure. She is justified in feeling that way, and I shouldn't complain. She's making a huge sacrifice to keep us together.

Still, it didn't stop the hurt from assailing her as they came into the great hall. Unprepared for her sister's abrupt stop, she almost ran into her.

"What has happened to my hall?" a thunderous voice shouted. Saeran flinched.

She expected Blaine to simper, but she strode forward with a confidence that was purely Blaine. Her sister's wide body swayed with her movements, and fearful for her life, Saeran followed after her.

"Laird Shaw!" Blaine greeted warmly. "I'm so glad to see you have returned." Saeran peered in front of her sister—or at least tried to. Men were filing into the hall, all wearing equal expressions of disgust.

"What happened to my hall?" the dark voice demanded again, this time his voice deadly soft. It was so chilling that Saeran shivered.

"I would like to introduce myself. Blaine Sinclair," she said, curtseying. He only gave Saeran a fleeting glance. "And my dear younger brother, Saeran Sinclair."

"I demand an answer, Blaine Sinclair. What happened to my hall?" he roared. Saeran grabbed her sister by the arm, reacting purely on instinct, and pulled her behind her back.

There was a silence, deathly enough to make Saeran pale. She didn't want to look at the barbarian who was going to marry her sister, but it was the proper thing to do, so she lifted terrified eyes to his—

And stilled.

Her breath stuck in her throat.

The Lion was not a handsome man—but he had a raw, brutal presence that commanded all attention to be centered on him. He was the largest out of all the men in the hall. Brodrick's head reached his neck, and she could imagine that being placed next to him, she would appear half as tall as he.

His shoulders were bare and thick, wide enough to fill the doorway. The light from the hall slashed across his face, giving her a perfect view of bright, furious green eyes.

His hair was dark and wavy, reaching just past his jaw and setting off the hard, rugged lines of his face. His eyes were a blazing green. Whether the blazing part was from the fury in them, or the vibrancy of his eyes, she didn't know—and didn't care.

He was the kind of man one heard about in legends, whether he was the foe or the hero. He had a body that was built for strength and dominance, and the stance of his shoulders showed clearly that he knew who had the control.

He was...masculine. Not handsome—no, he didn't need to be handsome. The strength that exuded from him spoke for itself. Even though his face was brutal, there was a look in his eyes as he stared down at her.

She didn't know how to describe it, how to describe him, with words. Danger and power oozed out of him in waves, yet the masculinity he possessed robbed her of breath.

He also held…passion. As he stared down at her, his body vibrated with the strength of his anger. She felt the passion within him rise and lash out, like a strike of lightning to her gut.

"Saeran," Blaine hissed from behind her. "What are you doing? Get out of my way!" Saeran was snapped out of her stupor as her sister pushed her out of the way, coming forward to graciously bow in front of the laird again.

Saeran thought he'd lop her head off with his claymore, but he surprised her. All he did was sneer at the two of them.

"We've opened the hall, aired it, replaced the rushes, and ordered new tables, my lord. Does it not look lovely?" she asked serenely, holding her hands to her round face.

Her happiness didn't do anything to soften his furious features.

"Who's paying for all of this?" he growled.

His questions served in making Blaine stutter. "I... I had assumed that you would want to return to a clean home."

"It was perfectly fine beforehand. Brodrick," he snapped. "Find someone to get all of this back to the way it was. Now."

"Aye, my laird." Saeran watched her tormenter exit the room...just as Sabia came rushing out of the back, her two children close behind her. When they were standing in front of the laird, beside Saeran, she tensed.

He didn't look happy to see that he had more guests.

"Who are they?" he snapped, jerking his head toward them. The children began to tremble next to her, and she frowned.

"Your new cook and her children. They prepare, serve, and clean up the meals now," Saeran said before her sister could say anything. She didn't like the way this brute of a man was eyeing them. He stared at them as if they were the lowest, most disgusting thing he'd ever seen in his life.

The children subtly moved behind their terrified mother's skirts.

"I don't need a cook," he said harshly. "Send them home."

"Laird Shaw—" she started, hating the paleness on Sabia's face. She'd been through enough, and all of her problems were centered on the man in front of her.

"I want them gone," he snarled, slashing a hand out in front of him. "I want everything that was changed in my absence to be returned to its original state. Every speck of dust, every servant, every rush. All of it."

Saeran felt a burst of anger well inside of her. Sabia didn't have a home or a man to provide for her.

"Sabia's husband died in your service, and she has no home," Saeran snapped. She was too angry to care that she was acting completely out of character. She was supposed to be quiet and unassuming.

Blaine stiffened beside her, and she knew she was going to catch hell for this. She didn’t care. Saeran couldn't let Sabia be homeless with two children.

When the laird didn't say anything, she continued. Softer this time, but with just as much force.

"She is an excellent cook. This keep is in need of one, and she has two growing children that do what is asked. Throwing her out would be a travesty—"

"Quiet, Saeran," Blaine finally snapped, rounding on her. Her eyes blazed. "If the laird wants the woman gone, then she'll be gone. You," she said, pointing at Sabia. "Pack your belongings and—"

"Nay," the laird said suddenly.

Blaine paused. "No, my lord?"

"Nay." That was all that needed to be said. Sabia gave her a tearfully grateful nod, and then hurried from the room. Saeran felt a moment of relief, then realized the laird was staring at her. Dread settled in her gut, but nevertheless, she met his eyes.

"Who are ye?" he asked, squinting at her.

She swallowed thickly. Mayhap stepping into this man's line of fire hadn't been a wise idea. Regardless, she did not regret her decision. She had saved three lives by it.

"Saeran Sinclair," she said, the pride in her voice clear. If only she were introducing herself as the woman she was.

"And this is yer sister?" he asked, gesturing to Blaine with a nod of his head. Blaine started to open her mouth, but he gave her a quelling look.

"Aye," Saeran said uncertainly. She wasn't supposed to be doing the talking. Blaine should be doing this—Saeran was a terrible liar—always had been.

"Where is the other sister?" he asked, narrowing his eyes on the two of them. The look on his face made her blood turn to ice in her veins.

"Other sister?" she echoed hollowly, heart starting to race. He was staring at them as if he knew she wasn't who she claimed to be.

"Aye, the other sister. I ken there were two lasses, no' one and a brother."

Blaine once again tried to open her mouth, but the laird held up a hand. "I'm no' speaking to ye', lass.”

"I am the king's cousin!" she burst out, offended. Saeran wanted to wring her throat. Couldn’t her sister, just this once, take the hint that she shouldn't speak? "I am a guest in your home! I can speak for myself, my lord."

"In my home, a lady knows her place. Ye' clearly do not. Come, lad. We'll discuss this elsewhere." With one last look at Blaine, he walked from the room. Saeran gave her sister a pleading look. The only thing she got in return was a face that said, "If you go, you're in big trouble."

For some reason, she was more terrified of the laird than her sister.

With heavy feet, she went after the laird. Men began to restore the hall to its former infamy.

* * *

Kane was not a pleased laird.

He'd seen Gwen on the way to the keep and hadn't felt a stir of desire for her. Her kisses, naughty whispers, and touches had not done anything to ignite the same hunger he'd felt for the lass at the creek—that was the first part of his problems.

His second had introduced itself right after. The stallion, a gift from the king, had gone berserk. Not even Brodrick, the proclaimed horse whisperer, could get the beast to calm down. The animal had harmed a stable boy, as well. He would work with the beast for a fortnight, but if there was no improvement, he'd get rid of it. He had too much to work to be concerned with such a minimal task.

The third problem was the hall. What woman in her right mind would barge into his home and change his hall without his permission? And to top it off, he'd been guilted by a lad half his size into keeping a woman and her two children at his keep! Then that Blaine chit was just the last straw...

He sighed heavily, pushing open the door to his study. The room was dark and cold, having been vacant for over a month.

"Close the door behind ye'," he commanded the boy, going to the fireplace and setting a flame. Then he went to the window and yanked the curtains aside. Light flooded the room, revealing the interior. The sight of the wee lad cowering against the door like he was a meal being served to a lion almost made him laugh. Almost.

"Blaine does no' have a sister?" he asked, getting right to the point.

The lad shook his head. The cap moved to the side, but it stayed atop his head. Hair darkened by shadow peaked out of the hat, and intelligent blue eyes stared at him from beneath a mask of grime.

He narrowed his eyes on him.

"Aye, just me, her brother," the boy said quickly, looking at the ground. Kane lost his train of thought at the abrupt answer.

"The king said there were two sisters. Yer not a lass."

Small shoulders shrugged. "Aye."

A memory pricked him, something the king had said. If only the king had given him the name of the other sister. Now that he thought about it, he realized he didn’t know the other sister’s name. Despite the brief mention of the other one, he’d obviously favored Blaine more when he spoke of her.

Mayhap the king had been confused, and there really was one woman.

"Then what is yer purpose here?"

Kane watched as the boy struggled to get words out. He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.

"Squire—I'm here as a squire. I believe the king might have gotten his subjects mixed up," he said, laughing. It was forced. He’s lying.

"I already have a squire," Kane said, waving a hand. He turned to the fire, facing the flames and watching them dance. There was something wrong with the lad, something...strange. He was lying, aye, but what about? Blaine was no doubt the cousin of a king—she had the conduct of one for sure. The king often mixed his subjects around, but these were his "dear cousins".

Kane grunted. The king had many “dear cousins”. Mayhap he was confusing Blaine's brother as someone else from his extended family tree. That had to be it.

"The king sent me here to be a squire," the boy insisted. Kane looked over his shoulder to see that he'd finally stepped away from the door, hands clenched at his sides. There was a determination to his eyes. Kane noted the surprise there, as if the boy couldn't believe he was being so bold.

"I can send you to be the squire of another laird. There are plenty in need of one. So many Lowlanders are taking to court rather than battle," he said, disgusted.

"You can have more than one squire, my lord." Kane faced the boy fully. His lips were pressed together. The glance at his lips led Kane's eyes to his jaw. His eye twitched.

Why was he noticing that the lad had a surprisingly elegant jaw?

Kane shook his head mentally, clearing away the thoughts.

"I have enough with Connor on my hands—"

"Talk to Brodrick. He'll vouch for me." The boy crossed the space between them, staring up at him with a fire he hadn't expected from such a small body. It was small, but slender. Very slender.

He had to shake the thoughts out of his head again. "I have no need of another squire—"

"I—"

"Enough," he snapped, slashing a hand through the air. The lad flinched, as if Kane was going to strike him. Kane sighed. "I'm tired of yer interrupting' me, lad. I'm laird here, not ye'. Remember who yer speaking to. If I say I donna need another squire, I donna need another squire."

"My sister needs me," he said quickly. "If I left her, she'd...she'd..."

"What, run around throwing flowers all over the place? Ye' ain't verra good at controlling her, lad. Ye' saw the state of my hall—what kind of man wants to return to a bonny hall like that?"

"I was busy with training when she took over the hall, my lord," he whispered.

Kane grunted.

"Yer askin' me to let ye' stay here so ye' can babysit yer sister," he said bluntly.

"Aye. She needs me. She has...problems and—" He cut himself off.

At least the lad didn't deny that he was staying to watch his sister. That showed the amount of loyalty he had. Hell, he'd even dragged the chit behind him when Kane saw the state of his hall.

"I donna ken a single brother who would stay behind for his sister," Kane said, shaking his head. A hint of amusement entered his voice. Even when Annalise and he had been close, he preferred training with the men to playing childish games with her.

"She's special," Saeran said, nodding. "Very special." Then his face paled. "She'll make a perfect bride, though—she's very good at...at—"

"I get ye', lad. Fine. Ye' can stay to watch yer sister." As silly as it sounded.

A hopeful look entered his eyes. "Does that mean no more training?"

Kane narrowed his eyes on him.

"Nay. More training. Yer too thin and..." He searched for a word that would properly describe the boy and found none. He shrugged. "Slim. Yer too slim. If yer going to be staying in the Highlands, ye'll need to toughen up a wee bit. Mayhap ye’ should get some meat on yer bones, then return to training."

His small shoulders slumped. The boy could definitely use some toughening up, Kane thought, leaning on the edge of the table.

"Find yer sister and watch her. Try to keep her out of my way."

"My lord?"

Kane sighed, swiping a hand over his face. "I'd like some time to myself before I have to face her again."

The boy wore a knowing look on his face while he nodded. He turned to leave.

"Saeran," he called out, a thought coming to him. He watched the boy's back tense.

"My lord."

"Have ye' seen a lass around? Blonde, verra small, about yer size, but thinner?"

"There are many women around who look like that," the boy said easily, not turning around to meet Kane's eyes. His hand was still on the door.

Kane sighed. Mayhap it was just his imagination, a conjuring created by the spirits. That sounded more likely, he thought, rubbing his temples. "Thank ye', lad. Send Brodrick to me if ye' see him."

"Aye, my lord." With a short bow of his head, the boy left him in silence, with only the sound of the crackling fire heating up the spring-cooled room.

Now that the Sinclairs were somewhat taken care of, he took the time to go through the accounts, reading all of the missives that Brodrick had made for him. They had a lot to discuss.

First and foremost being the figment of his imagination...