winter.”
She smoothed Peter’s hair. “I know you will.”
Caden tipped his head to Bess and held his fist to his heart to Peter, who imitated the fierce pledge.
Nine more homes to visit. He breathed deep to lessen the tightness in his middle and strode to the next door.
Caden counted down each one, answering the same questions and promising food to each troubled face. Ten homes in all. Ten each day. That was his routine. So unlike his sire, who had holed up in the keep, planning sweet revenge and victory no matter what the cost. Caden wanted something different; he wanted peace because peace meant food. Without it, many of his people wouldn’t survive the winter. The Munros had raided most of their cattle the night the fall harvest had been burned. Even though they didn’t take credit for it, the council was convinced it was their most hated enemy’s work.
He knocked on the last door. Hugh Loman answered.
“Get back in here, Hugh,” his wife’s voice called.
Hugh’s eyes pleaded with Caden. “She’s driving me to bedlam,” he said and then grinned.
“Hello, Caden.” Elizabeth Loman came to the door, their infant son swaddled against her chest. “Hugh’s not fit enough to come back to train,” she said, placing her hand on Hugh’s forehead.
“There’s no fever, woman,” Hugh said, and ducked. “Meg took care of it on the way home.”
“That she did,” Elizabeth said, her eyes growing wet. “Thank God for her, then,” she added, and turned toward Caden. “Is the lass well? I would like to pay my respects before you trade her off to those devils.”
Worry, gratitude, determination with a bit of fury all flew across Elizabeth Loman’s face.
“She is well,” Caden answered.
“I will use some of our ration to make her my special bread,” she said. “She deserves more, seeing how she took care of my Hugh.”
“Come to the keep,” Caden said. “Tell Evelyn I want you to have enough grain for your bread.”
“We have enough, Caden,” Hugh said, but Caden knew just how little they had. With a new bairn, Elizabeth needed all the food she had for her family.
“I understand, Hugh,” Caden said. “Tell Evelyn. We have enough.”
Elizabeth dabbed at her eyes before withdrawing back into the cozy home.
“She weeps at everything,” Hugh said to Caden and stepped outside with him. “She’s up most the night.”
“He’s healthy, the bairn?”
“Aye and quite hungry.” Hugh’s laugh turned sour. “I didn’t mean that we don’t have enough, Caden. ’Twas a joke about bairns.”
“I will trade Meg to her uncle soon,” Caden said. “Then there will be enough.”
“I’ve never doubted that you’d find a way,” Hugh said.
Caden strode back toward the bailey. Ten houses finished for another day. When his fury welled inside him, demanding an attack based wholly on revenge, he’d remember the faces of the wives and children. When Meg stared at him with those big trusting eyes and he thought for a moment about keeping her, he’d remember his people. They made him accountable, made him who he was. His people made him The Macbain.
…
“Here it is,” Meg said. She pulled the heavy key from her leather bag and handed it to Rachel. They sat in two wooden chairs close to the dancing flames of the hearth in their room. They sat completely alone since Nickum had begged to escape.
“Isabelle left you this?” Rachel ran a finger over the iron scrollwork in the handle of the key.
“Yes. The pattern is not really a pattern at all.”
“’Tis odd,” Rachel said. “My sister liked to leave clues and guesses about. She liked games when she was a girl.” She focused back on the key. “A chest to unlock, perhaps.”
“I think she secreted the proof away that she mentioned in her letter.” Meg pointed to the parchment lying open on Rachel’s lap.
“Why did your uncle give you your mother’s letter now?”
“Really, it was Aunt Mary, although Uncle Harold
She smoothed Peter’s hair. “I know you will.”
Caden tipped his head to Bess and held his fist to his heart to Peter, who imitated the fierce pledge.
Nine more homes to visit. He breathed deep to lessen the tightness in his middle and strode to the next door.
Caden counted down each one, answering the same questions and promising food to each troubled face. Ten homes in all. Ten each day. That was his routine. So unlike his sire, who had holed up in the keep, planning sweet revenge and victory no matter what the cost. Caden wanted something different; he wanted peace because peace meant food. Without it, many of his people wouldn’t survive the winter. The Munros had raided most of their cattle the night the fall harvest had been burned. Even though they didn’t take credit for it, the council was convinced it was their most hated enemy’s work.
He knocked on the last door. Hugh Loman answered.
“Get back in here, Hugh,” his wife’s voice called.
Hugh’s eyes pleaded with Caden. “She’s driving me to bedlam,” he said and then grinned.
“Hello, Caden.” Elizabeth Loman came to the door, their infant son swaddled against her chest. “Hugh’s not fit enough to come back to train,” she said, placing her hand on Hugh’s forehead.
“There’s no fever, woman,” Hugh said, and ducked. “Meg took care of it on the way home.”
“That she did,” Elizabeth said, her eyes growing wet. “Thank God for her, then,” she added, and turned toward Caden. “Is the lass well? I would like to pay my respects before you trade her off to those devils.”
Worry, gratitude, determination with a bit of fury all flew across Elizabeth Loman’s face.
“She is well,” Caden answered.
“I will use some of our ration to make her my special bread,” she said. “She deserves more, seeing how she took care of my Hugh.”
“Come to the keep,” Caden said. “Tell Evelyn I want you to have enough grain for your bread.”
“We have enough, Caden,” Hugh said, but Caden knew just how little they had. With a new bairn, Elizabeth needed all the food she had for her family.
“I understand, Hugh,” Caden said. “Tell Evelyn. We have enough.”
Elizabeth dabbed at her eyes before withdrawing back into the cozy home.
“She weeps at everything,” Hugh said to Caden and stepped outside with him. “She’s up most the night.”
“He’s healthy, the bairn?”
“Aye and quite hungry.” Hugh’s laugh turned sour. “I didn’t mean that we don’t have enough, Caden. ’Twas a joke about bairns.”
“I will trade Meg to her uncle soon,” Caden said. “Then there will be enough.”
“I’ve never doubted that you’d find a way,” Hugh said.
Caden strode back toward the bailey. Ten houses finished for another day. When his fury welled inside him, demanding an attack based wholly on revenge, he’d remember the faces of the wives and children. When Meg stared at him with those big trusting eyes and he thought for a moment about keeping her, he’d remember his people. They made him accountable, made him who he was. His people made him The Macbain.
…
“Here it is,” Meg said. She pulled the heavy key from her leather bag and handed it to Rachel. They sat in two wooden chairs close to the dancing flames of the hearth in their room. They sat completely alone since Nickum had begged to escape.
“Isabelle left you this?” Rachel ran a finger over the iron scrollwork in the handle of the key.
“Yes. The pattern is not really a pattern at all.”
“’Tis odd,” Rachel said. “My sister liked to leave clues and guesses about. She liked games when she was a girl.” She focused back on the key. “A chest to unlock, perhaps.”
“I think she secreted the proof away that she mentioned in her letter.” Meg pointed to the parchment lying open on Rachel’s lap.
“Why did your uncle give you your mother’s letter now?”
“Really, it was Aunt Mary, although Uncle Harold
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