Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Och, this old lady has plenty here, son,” she says and Cairstina nods.
“Right, then, be back in an hour.” They don’t even respond, they’re that eager to “talk” to one another.
Something inside me says this isn’t good, that this is problematic, but I ignore it as I head back outside.
We assemble in the dining room, congregating around the large table as the staff serves lunch. I give a brief account of what happened the night before, explain why Cairstina is in my care, and ask if anyone has more news for me.
“I do, Leith,” Mac says, as he takes a large bite of his sandwich. I blow out an impatient breath, waiting for him to chew and swallow.
“I know I’ve seen that lass of yours somewhere before.”
One of the men to my left makes a comment under his breath to Clyde, whose cheeks turn ruddy with the effort of not laughing out loud.
“Something to say, William?”
He shakes his head. “No, sir.”
“You did just a moment ago, though, didn’t you?”
Bloody hell, are they making comments about Cairstina?
“Said nothing, sir, about yer lass so much as about where Mac might’ve seen ‘er.”
The laughter dies down at the scowl I give him, and he looks suitably ashamed.
“I’m serious, Leith,” Mac says, chewing thoughtfully. “Do we know how she lost her voice? Was she born this way?”
“I’ve gotten some feedback from her but not the whole story yet.”
“Seems familiar to me, too,” Clyde says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I’ll look into it and let you know if we find anything. I thought so last night but thought I could’ve been mistaken with darkness all around us and the odd evening it was.”
“Get back to me with that. Now, then, we need to talk about this month’s accounting.”
This is my least favorite part of my job, where I ask the men to show what they’ve earned for the Clan in their respective jobs. Men have been released from our Clan for not holding their weight in the past, but since I’ve stepped into this role, I haven’t had to give so much as a warning to a soul.
One by one, I check the records, pleased to see all men doing their jobs properly and promptly.
“Do you know the name of the man we killed?” Tate asks, returning to our first topic, the one I can’t forget myself. I appreciate his use of the word “we.” He doesn’t want to disrespect me in front of the others.
Mac nods. “I do. ’Twas Gil Aitken. Not very high ranking, but perhaps blood relation to Banner Aitkens himself.”
Bloody hell. The men discuss our options, and where we go from here.
“I’ve seen nothing that indicates anyone saw or heard us,” I tell them. “Does anyone have intel we were overhead or seen? William?”
As our tech support, he’s the one who’s deeply involved in our online presence and rumors that come our way, the chatter among the people of Inverness.
They shake their heads. No one’s heard a thing.
“I want it clear, I’ve got no fucking qualms about making damn sure the Aitkens were punished for what they’ve done. I want it clear we aren’t cowards who hide behind our actions. What I do want is the Aitkens looking over their fucking shoulders, wondering what will happen next, who will strike.”
Tate meets my eyes and nods, and I can see his steadfast loyalty and conviction in the way he meets my gaze. Mac, for all his swagger and attitude, gives me the same firm nod.
“Aye, Leith, and I think we did that well.”
“Agreed,” Clyde says, leaning over on his chair with his elbows on his knees. “And we made it bloody fucking clear they stay the hell away from MacGowen.”
“But will they return, is the question?” William asks, shaking his head. He leans back in his chair, scowling, his dark brows drawn together.
“We’ll have to watch, won’t we?”
The men talk amongst themselves, and I realize I’m not paying as close attention as I should. My mind is elsewhere, focused on a pretty little lass with haunting eyes who’s holed up Nan’s chalet. The way her eyes met mine in unabashed curiosity when she slipped on the ice. The way she held onto me to steady herself, such a slight little thing. She may not speak out loud, but humans communicate in so many more ways. And I can tell, just by the way she—
“Leith?”
I blink, bringing myself back to the present.
William’s looking at me strangely, like he doesn’t quite know what to make of me. “Did you hear the question, Cap’n?”
Christ, I’m so preoccupied with thoughts of Cairstina, I’m doing precisely what I’d berate my men for doing. I shake my head.
“Sorry, William, what was that again?”
“Do you know anything about the girl’s family?”
I shrug. “I know she’s the sister of Dougal Reilly, that her brother’s an abusive arse. That’s all I know.” I look to Clyde. “I want you to find out everything you can and report back to me. Understood?”