Chapter Five
“Sir, I must insist you return to your regiment with haste!” Alasdair MacIain’s wife thrust her finger toward the door.
Kier turned redder than the ball of scarlet yarn in Skye’s basket. “I beg your pardon, miss.” Shooting her a flustered gaze, he dipped into a curt bow then hastened out the door.
Skye gulped and shifted her attention to her mistress. “Forgive me. I have no idea what came over me.”
The woman’s features pinched with outrage. “I should say not. Do you realize that man is a Campbell?” Mistress NicGilleasbuig spat out Kier’s name as if it were a vile curse.
Skye pressed her palms together and tapped her lips. “’Twasn’t what you think. I—”
“What I think? Tell me what isn’t scandalous about a wee maid swooning in the arms of a dragoon with her lips fused with his?”
“But—”
“Make no bones about it, we may be extending hospitality to Glenlyon and his mob of upstarts, but when they march out of the Coe, that will be the end of it.” Mistress NicGilleasbuig threw up her hands. “I must speak to your mother at once.”
“No. Please, no. Do not make more of this than it is.”
“Exactly what did I miss? You were swooning in the man’s arms!”
“It was merely the moment. I-I had a lapse in judgement.”
The older woman shifted her fists to her hips. “I ken you’re young and impressionable, and that braw warrior turns heads everywhere he sets foot, but you must always remember your roots. You must put clan and kin afore a bonny face such as his.”
“Aye, Mistress.” Skye wrung her hands. “But, please. Can this remain between us?”
Mistress NicGilleasbuig sniffed and narrowed her eyes. “Only if you promise not to let that man’s braw looks mar your judgement in the future. I ken you to be a sensible lass, but if I catch wind of one more inappropriate act, I shall have no choice but to have words with your mother.”
Drawing her hands over her heart, Skye dipped into a curtsey and bowed her head. “Thank you. Thank you ever so much, Matron.”
“But—I will mention it to Hugh. He’s near enough to the lieutenant in age. I’ll have him issue a warning.”
Skye gulped, her shoulders tensing. Hugh? “Do you think it necessary? I—”
“Of course it is necessary! I wouldn’t have said so if I didn’t believe it to be true. That dragoon needs to be forewarned.” The lady gestured toward the loom. “Now set to work. You’ve idled away enough of this day already.”
Standing shoulder to shoulder with his men, Kier tossed the dice into a cup and rattled them around. “Come ye bloody sixes.”
Though there was no formal alehouse in Glencoe, like all Scottish settlements, there was a brewhouse where ale was made and stored in casks. With the arrival of the regiment, it didn’t take long for the brewhouse to become a place for the soldiers to congregate after long days of marching.
He rolled the dice onto the top of the barrel the men used as a makeshift table and groaned. “A pair of miserable twos.”
“Luck’s not with you this day, is it?” asked Hugh MacIain, sauntering through the crowd. He bellied up to the barrel, scowling at the two dragoons Kier had been playing with. “Give us a moment, would you?”
Kier knew exactly why MacIain had sought him out. It hadn’t taken the blighter long. “Had a word with your mother did you?”
“I did.”
Taking a drink of ale, Kier pondered his response. “I have no quarrel with you.”
“No?”
“No.”
MacIain inched a bit closer. “You should have thought about that afore you kissed Miss Skye.”
Aye, and Kier had been kicking himself ever since. “I won’t disagree with you there.”
“And what are your intentions?”
“Bloody hell.” He threw up his hands. “It was but a kiss.”
“Was it now?” Hugh rapped his knuckles atop the barrel. “Without her father’s consent? You ken as well as I a wee kiss leads to more.”
Kier pursed his lips. “It will not here.”
“It had better not.”
“Understood.”
Hugh picked up the cup and plunked in the dice, then shook it. “You ken if you hurt the lass, you’ll pay tenfold.” He rolled a pair of sixes.
Kier raised his cup. “It appears your luck is a mite better than mine, my friend.”
Grabbing his forearm, Hugh leaned in. “We’re no friends and I want your word you’ll stay away from the lass.”
Kier narrowed the gap, his nose but a hair’s breadth from MacIain’s. “That’s a bit difficult given I’m staying with her kin.”
Hugh squeezed his fingers.
The lieutenant met the man’s dark-eyed stare for a moment. It wasn’t so long ago they were on opposite sides of a battle, the guards of their swords locked in a duel of strength. If he weren’t in the Coe on army business, he might just invite the scrapper outside for a spar. “Och, you ken the lass is safe with me.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Hugh released his grip.
Kier’s shoulders tensed. On second thought, perhaps he ought to give the heir a bit of a rib. He grasped MacIain’s upper arm and gave it a squeeze. “I see you haven’t gone soft since we last locked swords.”
Hugh yanked his arm away. “Swinging an ax will do that to a man.”
“We could use a fella like you in our ranks.” Leaning in, Kier waggled his eyebrows.
“And that will happen when hell freezes.”
Kier laughed. “I always did like you, MacIain. You were never one to mince words. Mayhap we can go a couple rounds for the captain—I’d wager he’d recruit you on the spot.”
“And you’re full of shite.” Hugh thwacked him on the back. “Just remember your promise.”