Wild Highland Magic (The Celtic Legends Series Book 3)(48)

So she banished Lachlan from her mind and focused more keenly on the man on horseback just coming into view through the scrim of trees. That man’s thoughts were quiet like the rustle of a squirrel in the litter, but she could tell he was mentally ticking off a list of anxieties.

She caught his name through the mind of the man on the next horse. She blurted, “It’s Callum Ewing.”

Lachlan stiffened beside her, but she resisted the draw on her attention. The man called Callum was hungry, she realized, but not for food. Some greater trouble gnawed at him.

She said, “He’s off to see the Lamonts.”

“The Lamonts?” Lachlan blurted. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am,” she said. Lachlan may have muddled her mind a bit with last night’s lovemaking, but she’d been reading men’s thoughts for most of her life. “Whatever Ewing is planning, he doesn’t want to be doing it at all.”

“The Lamonts are bitter enemies. No Ewing would ever have dealings with them.”

She glanced his way, found him running his fingers through his short beard. Uneasiness made her concentrate harder, but the name Lamont came up, over and over, through Callum Ewing’s mind as well as through the minds of the others.

“He feels forced to go there.” Her temples throbbed with the effort. “He’s concerned about how it will affect his clan and his family.”

There was something else there, something important, but her attention was pulled away by a curious Angus striding toward them. The black-haired merchant directed his attention to Lachlan as if she were no more sentient than a nearby sapling.

Angus asked Lachlan, “Can you read the heraldry from here?”

“It’s Callum Ewing,” Lachlan said. “The chieftain of the Ewing sept, bound to my father.”

“I know Callum. I’ve broken bread with that warrior in your father’s own house. What luck that we come upon him.” Angus took a step down the slope. “Come, let’s—”

Lachlan seized his arm. “Callum is on the road to meet the Lamonts.”

“That’s nonsense.” Angus shook off Lachlan’s grip. “How can you even know that? Roads go two ways, and the Lamonts are—”

“—enemies to the MacEgans. The Lamont castle seat is six miles further down the coast road, with no paths off it, in the same direction that those men are moving.”

As Angus digested this, the merchant’s gaze slid to her. He’d never liked the fact that Lachlan had insisted on taking her on this journey. She felt the waves of his wariness like a hot torch. His thoughts kept whispering witch.

“That can’t be right.” Angus pulled his attention back to Lachlan. “Callum Ewing never struck me as a foolish man, nor a man hungry for power. Certainly not a man who would have anything to do with murdering his overlord.”

“Our world has changed, Angus.”

“Then let’s stop him here and find out what he knows.” Angus gripped the hilt of his sword. “We’ll make him speak the truth.”

Lachlan seized Angus’s sword arm when the blade was only half out of the scabbard. “I won’t make enemies out of those who could be friends.”

Angus blew a huff of air. “This journey to Loch Fyfe will not be bloodless, lad. You know that.”

“Callum is riding like he expects an attack. They have at least twenty well-armed men on horseback. We are a half dozen men, and one woman, on foot.”

“We have the advantage of surprise.”

“We stick to the plan, Angus.” Lachlan released his cousin and fingered the hilt of his own sword. “You’re here with your clerics and a few porters to pay your respects to my father’s family. You’ve brought gifts of wine to make sure the trade arrangements between Derry and Loch Fyfe are still in place with the new chieftain, whoever he may be. Once we are sure we know who the assassin is, only then will I reveal myself.”

“If you truly believe that Ewing is off to deal with the devil Lamont,” Angus argued, “that’s enough to mark him an enemy—”

“Callum Ewing,” she interrupted, “is no enemy.”

Angus glared at her with fiery eyes. His annoyance was tempered only by Lachlan’s expression of growing interest.

“He misses your father.” Though the impression was frustratingly fuzzy, it was strong. “He is not the one responsible for his death.”

Angus made a scoffing noise. “By God, Lachlan, what does this woman know of—”

“Are you sure, lass?”

Maybe it was the withering blast of Angus’s distrust that made her hesitate. Or maybe it was because of the men around them, nervous and excited all at once as they clutched their short swords. Or maybe it was the strange wooliness of her gift this morning. Whatever the cause, uncertainty bit at the edges of her confidence.

This was the first time in her life when her ability to read someone’s mind really mattered.

“I’m sure,” she said, her nod more confident than she was. “Callum Ewing is an ally.”

“Then we go greet him. Peacefully.” Lachlan nudged Angus forward and pulled his cowl over his head. “Let the farce begin.”

***


Lachlan hung back with the other men as Angus hailed Callum and stepped onto the road, his hands empty and spread wide. The chieftain of the Ewing clan pulled back on the reins, though his horse fought against the restraint.