25 AN OVERSIGHT
DELIGHTED SQUEALS OF laughter drifted in through the open window of the solar, making Liza look up from the ledger she’d been writing in. Moy had just had two wagonloads of grain delivered—oats and barley—and she was making note of the number of sacks they’d carried into the granary, and the coin she’d paid. In truth, Rae’s arrival had flustered her, but she was determined that he wouldn’t find anything lacking in her lairdship.
“There’s nothing like the sound of a happy bairn,” Kylie said, her lips lifting at the corners wistfully. Her sister sat by the fire, mending one of Craeg’s tunics. It was a chore that Liza usually did, but ever since stepping into her new role, she didn’t have the time. Indeed, she’d barely set foot inside her lady’s solar—a smaller chamber next to this one, where she’d once whiled away many hours sewing or at embroidery or weaving.
“I agree.” Liza got up, stepped away from her desk, and crossed the chamber to the window. “Let’s see what they’re up to.”
Peering out, she saw the grey clouds that had been gathering all afternoon were now overhead. The air was warm yet charged, and thunder rumbled in the distance. However, those in the barmkin below paid no attention to it.
A group of the Guard looked on, cheering as a tall fair-haired man parried with a wee lad. They both gripped wooden swords, and every time the man lunged at him, the boy gave a squeal and smacked at his blade with his own. In response, the man grinned, his eyes alight with joy.
Liza stilled, the smile upon her lips freezing.
Rankin and Craeg.
She then breathed a curse under her breath.
“What is it?” Kylie asked, no doubt marking her reaction.
“How dare he?” Liza growled, turning on her heel and stalking toward the doorway.
“Who?”
Liza didn’t answer. She was already flinging open the door and crossing the landing. Then, picking up her skirts in one hand, she descended the stone steps two at a time.
Emerging into the barmkin a short while later, she found Rankin on his back upon the cobbles with Craeg sitting on his chest. The lad was waving his toy sword in the captain’s face.
Rankin was laughing, the rich sound drifting across the barmkin.
“Mercy!” Rankin cried out, while the men surrounding them grinned. “I surrender!”
Vaguely aware that Makenna was amongst the crowd, and that she too was smiling, Liza strode across the yard toward the group.
“What do ye think ye are doing, Rankin?” Her angry voice cut through the humid air.
Both the captain’s and Craeg’s gazes snapped her way, surprise flickering across their faces.
“Liza,” Rankin murmured, his smile fading. “Is something amiss?”
“Aye.” She halted before them. Leaning down, she hauled Craeg off his chest. Her son’s body went rigid in her arms, yet she was too busy glaring at Rankin to focus upon him right now. “Ye have no right to take such liberties with my son.” she ground out.
Rankin cocked an eyebrow and rolled to his feet. “Liberties? We were just play fighting.”
“I don’t care what ye thought ye were doing … ye will not lay a hand upon my son again. Is that clear?”
Rankin’s face tightened, his gaze shadowing.
“He wasn’t hurting Craeg,” Makenna stepped forward then, her expression wary. “They were only—”
“Ye should have put a stop to it immediately,” Liza turned on her sister.
Makenna’s lips thinned at her venom.
Liza’s heart was slamming hard against her ribs now, even as something clenched deep inside her chest. They were all acting as if she was making something out of nothing. None of them understood what she and Craeg had been through.
“Liza.” Rankin’s voice was surprisingly soft, yet his familiarity—one she’d already warned him about—just made her ire rise further. “I didn’t mean any harm.”
“Of course, ye didn’t,” she snarled back. “ Men never do … until it’s too late.”
Liza caught sight of Rae Maclean’s tall figure then, standing on the walls, and she froze. Rae’s brow furrowed as he watched her. An instant later, a lump of ice settled in the pit of her belly. Christ’s teeth, he’d just witnessed her loss of control.
Nausea rolled over her. What have I done?
She was supposed to be demonstrating her leadership qualities and proving that she was a worthy laird. But instead, she’d just made a spectacle of herself. Loch wouldn’t want her staying on as laird after this.
A sob caught in her throat then. Turning on her heel, and still clutching a rigid and teary-eyed Craeg in her arms, she ran indoors.
Craeg started to cry as they entered the tower house, soft sobs as if he was afraid of how she might react if he made a noise.
Her throat began to ache. Of course, Leod had taken to cuffing his son around the ear if he wept. He was scared she might do the same.
She wouldn’t.
Instead, she felt like smacking herself around the face. For frightening her son. For acting like a hysteric out there, in full view of everyone .
“I’m sorry, love,” she murmured as she carried Craeg up the stairs. “I’m not angry at ye.”
“Captain Rankin didn’t scare me, Ma.” His voice was small, cowed, and it cut her to the bone.
“I know … I know,” she replied, her voice soothing now.
The damage had been done though—it was too late for her to repair it.
Aye, it had been obvious it was nothing but innocent play fighting. She should have been pleased to see her son so happy, so comfortable with adult men. But instead, panic seized her.
Rae Maclean’s arrival had put her on edge—but she couldn’t blame him for her reaction. Suddenly, she hadn’t been in the present, but in the turbulent past, facing off against her husband after he’d just snarled at their son, or raised a hand to him. She’d been Craeg’s protector for so long, it was an old pattern. Ingrained. Hard to break.
Her vision blurred then, and her throat started to ache.
Curse ye, Leod . Her husband might be dead and buried, but his shade still dogged her steps.
“Someone has tried to break into the strongroom!”
The news, delivered by a breathless kitchen assistant, made Liza turn from where she’d been talking to a shepherd. It was two days after Rae Maclean’s arrival, and she’d taken him into the village to show him the wall she was having built.
The chieftain of Dounarwyse had been listening as she agreed to build a winter enclosure for the shepherd’s sheep. Lochbuie gained most of its income from the wool trade. As such, they needed to ensure their sheep were well looked after during the colder months.
Captain Rankin had been standing a few yards back, observing the meeting with a shuttered expression. But upon hearing Dougal’s announcement, he stepped forward. “Did they steal anything?”
The lad shook his head, his chest rising and falling sharply. “No,” he gasped. “Murdo sent two of us down to the cellar to fetch some cider … and we heard the rattle of a chain. But when we went to investigate, whoever it was had fled.” He paused then, his gaze shifting to Liza. “They left behind a pair of blacksmith’s pliers.”
Liza’s belly clenched. “God’s blood,” she muttered. “I can’t believe we have a thief inside the castle.”
“It’s not that surprising,” Rae rumbled. “News of Leod’s hoard will have spread … and some folk can’t resist the lure of coin.”
Liza nodded, even as her pulse quickened. He was right of course. Even so, she’d had to force herself to meet the chieftain’s eye. She’d largely avoided him after the scene in the barmkin—as she had Rankin too—taking her meals in her solar and making excuses to avoid any meetings. But she couldn’t stay away from either man forever.
On the way down to the village, she’d made light conversation with Rae, but all the while, she’d felt Rankin’s gaze upon her back.
Aye, sooner or later, she’d have to talk to him. However, she couldn’t face it today. Right now, she had other problems to deal with.
“I’d better get back to the castle.” She gave the shepherd an apologetic nod, gathered her woolen cloak about her—for it was unseasonably cold this morning—and headed east down the path that would take her back to Moy.
Inside the cellar, they found the abandoned pliers next to the trap door.
Liza watched as Rankin hunkered down beside it and examined the chain. “There are a few nicks out of the iron,” he observed. “But it’s secure.”
She let out a sigh. “That’s a relief.”
Meanwhile, Rae was glancing around the shadowy space, brow furrowed. “Ye will need to post guards down here from now on.” He paused then. “In truth, ye should have done so before now.”
Liza tensed, her gaze cutting to Rae, only to find him looking at Rankin.
Her pulse started to thud in her ears, and she cleared her throat. “ I make such decisions, not Captain Rankin.”
“But the Captain of the Guard needs to take the initiative,” Rae replied cooly, shifting his attention to her.
“He’s right.” Rankin’s voice was uncharacteristically gruff. “It was an oversight on my part.” His gaze flicked to Liza. “I shall ensure a guard is posted down here at all times from now on, Lady Maclean.”
Their eyes met, for the first time since she’d railed at him over Craeg in the barmkin, and heat flushed over Liza. Rankin’s expression was stern, his jaw set. She didn’t like that he’d shouldered the blame for this—or that Rae likely saw them both as incompetent.