In Bed with a Highlander (McCabe Trilogy #1)(12)

Two of the McCabe women hurried forward and each took an arm of the woman still standing by Alaric.

“Careful now,” Alaric cautioned. “Her injuries are still paining her.”

The women removed their hands and instead gestured toward her to precede them into the keep. She looked nervously around, and it was clear she had no desire to go in. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth until Ewan was sure she’d draw blood if she didn’t cease.

Ewan sighed. “I’m not ordering your death, lass. You asked for a bath and food. Are you questioning my hospitality now?”

She frowned, and her eyes narrowed as she gazed sharply at him. “I asked for a horse and food. I’ve no need of your hospitality. I’d prefer to be on my way as soon as possible.”

“I’ve no horses to spare, and furthermore, you aren’t going anywhere until I’ve sorted this entire matter out. If you have no wish for a bath, I’m sure the women would be happy to show you into the kitchens so you can eat.”

He finished with a shrug that signaled he didn’t care whether she bathed or not. That had been Alaric’s idea, but didn’t all women jump at the chance to wallow in a tub of hot water?

She pursed her lips as if to argue but evidently decided restraint was a better idea. “I’d like a bath.”

He nodded. “Then I suggest you follow the women upstairs before I change my mind.”

She turned, muttering something under her breath that he didn’t catch. His eyes narrowed. The contrary lass was sorely trying his patience.

He looked around for his son only to see him running behind the women toward the keep.

“Crispen,” he called.

Crispen turned around, anxiety over being kept from the woman etched on his small brow.

“Come here, son.”

After another moment’s hesitation, he launched himself toward Ewan, and Ewan caught him up in his arms once more.

His heart raced frantically as the sheer relief of holding his son again overwhelmed him. “You frightened ten years off me, lad. Don’t ever scare your father like this again.”

Crispen clung to Ewan’s shoulders and burrowed his face into Ewan’s neck.

“I won’t, Papa. I promise.”

Ewan hung on to him far longer than necessary, until Crispen wiggled to be set free. He hadn’t thought to see his son again, and if Alaric was to be believed, he had the woman to thank for it.

He looked over Crispen’s head to Alaric, demanding answers from his silent brother. Alaric shrugged.

“If you’re wanting answers from me, you’re looking to the wrong person.” He gestured impatiently at Crispen. “He and the lass refused to tell me anything. The cheeky little brat demanded I return them both to you so that you could protect her.”

Ewan frowned and looked Crispen in the eyes. “Is this true, son?”

Crispen looked decidedly guilty, but determination sparked in his green eyes. His lips twisted mutinously, and he tensed as if he expected Ewan to launch into a tirade.

“I gave my word,” Crispen said stubbornly. “You said a McCabe never breaks his word.”

Ewan shook his head wearily. “I’m beginning to regret telling you of things a McCabe doesn’t do. Come, let’s sit in the hall so you can tell me of these adventures of yours.”

He leveled a glance at Alaric, silently commanding his presence as well. Then he turned to Gannon. “Take your men and ride north to find Caelan. Tell him Alaric has returned Crispen home. Return as quickly as you can.”

Gannon bowed and hurried away, shouting orders as he went.

Ewan set Crispen down but kept a firm grip on his shoulder as he herded him into the keep. They walked into the hall amid a chorus of cries and exclamations. Crispen was soundly hugged by every passing woman and slapped on the back by the men of the clan. Finally Ewan waved them away so they were left alone in the hall.

Ewan sat at the table and patted the space next to him. Crispen hopped onto the bench while Alaric sat across the table from them.

“Now tell me what happened,” Ewan commanded.

Crispen looked down at his hands, his shoulders drooping.

“Crispen,” Ewan began gently. “What else did I tell you McCabes always do?”

“Tell the truth,” Crispen said grudgingly.

Ewan smiled. “Indeed. Now begin your tale.”

Crispen sighed dramatically before saying, “I snuck out to meet Uncle Alaric. I thought I’d wait at the border and surprise him when he came home.”

Alaric glared across the table at Crispen, but Ewan held up his hand.

“Let him continue.”

“I must have gone too far. One of the McDonald soldiers took me and said he was going to take me back to his laird to ransom me.”

He turned pleading eyes on Ewan. “I couldn’t let him do that, Papa. It would shame you, and our clan can’t afford a ransom. So I escaped and hid in the cart of a traveling merchant.”

Ewan tensed in rage at the McDonald soldier, and his heart clenched at the pride in his son’s voice.

“You could never shame me, Crispen,” Ewan said quietly. “Now go on with your story. What happened next?”

“The merchant discovered me after a day and he chased me out. I didn’t know where I was. I tried to steal a horse from men who were camping but they caught me. M—I mean she saved me.”