To Desire a Highlander by Sue-Ellen Welfonder Page A

claimed the lad pointed his dirk at the sea when trouble was coming.
    Roag almost snorted. For sure, the sprite had the rights of it, except for one minor flaw.
    The problem was no longer at sea.
    She’d already arrived and was mounting the keep’s turnpike stair. Worst of all, before the night ended, he was obliged to follow her.
    It was the last thing he wanted to do.
    He refused to acknowledge how much he was anticipating it.

Chapter Nine

    G ood lad, only a few more steps and we shall have our peace.” Gillian praised Skog as they rounded the last turn of the narrow stair and the shadowed landing finally came into view. The old dog’s slow, careful gait made the breath lodge in Gillian’s throat. It hurt to see her once robust and powerful companion so feeble. Even so, she kept her voice bright, didn’t let her sadness show. She owed that to Skog’s pride, always doing what she could to maintain his dignity.
    Hurrying ahead, she opened her door so he could enter the small room without her needing to fumble with the rusted iron latch.
    She’d struggled with the door earlier, the delay causing Skog to sink down onto his haunches to wait. With his back legs and hips so age-weakened, even the simplest movements could pain him.
    Stepping aside, she watched as he trundled past her and made for the bed of soft plaids and furs she’d preparedfor him near the chamber’s only source of warmth, a tiny coal-burning brazier.
    Guilt clawed at her for exposing him to the rigors of the sea journey. Now he had to suffer the dubious comforts of this half-crumbled tower.
    But it couldn’t be helped.
    She didn’t trust her stepmother, Lady Lorna, to take proper care of Skog in her absence.
    Having him with her was better for them both.
    Especially now, trapped here as she was, little more than a captive, while her family sailed home to Sway without her.
    “No matter, sweet one, this, too, will pass.” She followed Skog across the room’s wooden floor, knelt to pull his favorite fur covering about him after he circled a few times and settled himself on the plaids. “We shall enjoy an evening of quiet before we’re disturbed. Then”—she smoothed a hand over Skog’s head, smiled into his cloudy eyes—“we shall be away again soon.
    “Not to Sway, but somewhere better.” She pushed to her feet, brushed down her skirts. “A grand place with many people, great houses, inns, and shops, more ships and bustle than we’ve ever seen. There’s even a magnificent cathedral. You’ll find plenty of dogs to keep you company, perhaps a few cats as well. For sure, there will be butchers offering the finest meaty bones. We’ll have a new home with my mother’s uncle. He’ll greet us gladly…”
    She let the words trail away as Skog had fallen asleep, his snores already filling the darkened room. Their small, sparsely furnished chamber smelled of old stone, rain, and the sea, and that was infinitely more appealing than thegreat city of Glasgow ever would be, much as she’d put on a brave face for Skog.
    She didn’t want to live in Glasgow.
    Such a place would suffocate her.
    Yet now, suspecting what she did, she also had little desire to return to Sway.
    Sadly, it was important that she didn’t.
    At least, for the now.
    Hoping she was wrong, she set a hand against her hip—she was exhausted—and took a closer look at the two large crates she’d spotted as soon as she’d opened the tiny room’s warped, rusty-handled door. Unfortunately, even as tired as she was, she’d seen rightly.
    The crates were from Castle Sway.
    And as she hadn’t seen them anywhere aboard her father’s galley on the voyage here, she could only surmise that they’d been hidden from her.
    Indeed, she was sure of it.
    She also had a strong sense of what the crates contained.
    And who’d packed them.
    “Oh, Skog…” She glanced at her sleeping dog, her heart clutching to see how the light from the brazier and the room’s one oil lamp picked