Highland Barbarian. Hannah Howell

      “Ye best tell me exactly what happened today.”

      Artan blinked, groped for the linen cloth on the floor by his bath, and wiped the soap from his face. He looked at the plump, middle-aged woman standing by his bath, her hands on her hips and a fierce scowl on her round, pretty face. How she had gotten into his bedchamber he did not know. He had not heard a thing. Either she was very skilled at stealth, or he had been dangerously lost in his thoughts.

      “And who are ye if I may be so bold as to ask it?” he asked.

      “They call me Old Meg. I was Cecily’s nurse and many another thing until that she-wolf Anabel threw me out of Dunburn.”

      “Ye obviously didnae go far.”

      “When I heard that my wee lass was to be married off, I came back. I ken weel how to get in and out of this place without being seen.”

      “Why did Lady Anabel throw ye out?”

      “I caught her thrashing the lass until the blood ran. The bitch quickly proved that she can wield the stick but cannae bravely face a taste of it herself.” She nodded in approval at the look of fury on the young man’s handsome face. “’Tis said old Angus MacReith sent ye.”

      “Aye, he did.”

      “Why? He hasnae had aught to do with the poor lass since her da and her brother were killed.”

      “Ah, now there is an odd thing. He claims he has often written to her asking her to come to him at Glascreag.” There was only a moment’s look of confusion on the woman’s face before fury hardened her pleasant features. “Now if ye would be so kind as to turn your back for a wee moment so I can get out of this bath, dry myself, and put some clothes on, we can have ourselves a fine long talk about all of this.”

      By the time Artan was dressed, it was obvious by the tapping of her foot that Old Meg was losing all patience. He quickly poured them each a goblet of wine and handed her one. In between sips of the hearty wine, he told Old Meg all of his suspicions, the attacks that had been made on him, and what had happened at the burn. However, he did not tell her about the kisses and the bargain Angus had offered him. Such things had nothing to do with the trouble facing Cecily now, and he believed they should remain private, strictly between him and Cecily. The faint hint of suspicion in her dark eyes told him she knew he held something back, but to his great relief, she did not press him for more.

      “It seems they dinnae want any emissary of Angus’s here,” Old Meg murmured. “They have done their best to see that old Angus has naught to do with the child. Ye are right to think there is something they are hiding. I have always thought so. I have ne’er believed Cecily’s father would leave her with naught. He was the type of mon to leave verra careful instructions and to make sure none of his family were left at the mercy of others. Nay, and he ne’er liked or trusted Anabel and Edmund either. So what do ye plan to do?”

      “Find out their secrets.”

      “But they mean to wed her to that worm, and e’en ye think he has had his hand in this somehow.”

      Artan nodded. “And Cecily willnae be marrying him.”

      “How can ye stop it? Ye are but one mon.”

      “If I have to, I will bind and gag the lass and take her to Glascreag flung o’er my saddle.”

      Old Meg studied him intently for a moment, then nodded. “If that is what is needed to save her, I stand ready to help ye.”

      Artan smiled and touched his goblet to hers in a silent toast, welcoming his new ally.