Logan grinned. “How did you know?”
Connor scoffed. “She’s your daughter, Ramsay.” He got up and wandered across the hall toward the bairns. He then took a chair in front of the hearth, watching his grandbairns play. Nothing calmed him as much as that sight. They were all too young to be thinking of anything but what made them the happiest. He sat back and took a long draw of the fine Rankin brew, rolling the amber liquid over his tongue before swallowing it and sighing when it finally hit home.
He wasn’t there long before wee Tora came over to set her hands on his knees, exactly the way she did when she needed his full attention.
“Grandda, dinnae wowwy. Alasdaiw will save Aunt Kyla. Alasdaiw and him.” She pointed to a person seated at the table, whispering into Merryn’s ear.
Connor glanced over his shoulder to make sure he knew who she pointed at.
Then Tora climbed onto his lap and cupped his face to turn him back, so he faced her directly, something she did whenever she was about to impart important information. How he adored her sweet face.
“Bwoc save his mama. Bwoc and Alasdaiw. Gwanda Alex said so.”
Then she hopped down and returned to Sandor’s side.
Connor could only pray she was right. His sister’s life was at stake.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Merryn and Broc
Later that night, Merryn crept out of her chamber and headed toward the parapets. She grabbed a long fur to wrap around herself. For some reason, she needed to get outside, and the parapets were the safest place.
She let the door close slowly so as not to awaken anyone. Then she turned around, taking in the gorgeous view of the sea in one direction and the mountains in the opposite. She sighed, tearing up at the beauty of the isle.
Only once had she been on the curtain wall of her uncle’s castle, and she’d been quite young, only noticing trees that went on forever.
But here on Mull, it was different. The half-moon lit up enough of the area for her to see far across the water, the rhythmic lapping against the rocks below calming her. She tipped her head back in the breeze, the cool air refreshing.
What was to become of her? Of Shealee? Of Tristan and Broc and Simone? All the people she cared so much about, yet she feared something awful was about to happen.
Had Kelvan built up enough of a force to take over the isle and send the Grant warriors back to the Highlands?
She jumped at the sound of boot heels, smiling when she caught sight of Broc coming toward her. “What are you doing here?”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her soundly. “I might ask you the same thing, lass.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” She snuggled close to him, taking in his heat, the hardness of his body that made her feel safe and …
“You’re blushing.”
“I know.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“You. Us. We. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I like the feel of you against me.”
He bent down and whispered in her ear, “I like the feel of your soft curves against me. You are the prettiest lass on all of Mull, Merryn MacClane.”
“I think you are seeing things. There are many far prettier than I am.”
“Nightmares?”
“Nay, I’m just worried.”
Broc sighed and found a stool to sit on, settling her on his lap as he wrapped his arms around her. “You’re cold.”
“Not with you next to me,” she whispered.
