Free Must Love Kilts by Allie Mackay Page A

heart.
    Only his foes could hatch such a plan.
    His own mind was too filled with his need to sharpen his sword on his enemies’ bones for him to bother conjuring bare-bottomed, pert-nippled females to addle his wits and rob him of his nights’ rest.
    “Come, Frodi.” Magnus frowned when his dog stopped to sniff heather. “The female is a proper pest.
    I want Orosius to banish her.”
    Frodi swiveled his furry head, seeming to grin at Magnus before trotting back to his side. The dog’s swishing tail gave the impression he agreed that the seer could spin such magic.
    If anyone could vanquish the sea witch, it was Orosius.
    Magnus trusted in the seer’s power.
    But his hopes dimmed when Orosius opened the door as he neared the cottage. The seer was known for his moods, and the way he scratched his tattered ear at Magnus’s approach didn’t bode well.
    Orosius had lost much of his ear to an enemy’s sword years ago and believed the injury was the gods’ retribution for using his gift unwisely. He tugged the damaged ear only when he wasn’t of a mood to scry.
    The fierce look he pinned on Magnus was equally telling. His wildly mussed hair signaled that he’d only just risen.
    It was clearly one of those mornings when Orosius desired his peace.
    Magnus didn’t care.
    Letting his own brows snap together, he strode on toward the low, whitewashed cottage. “Orosius! I’ll be having a word with you.”
    “Humph. I knew you’d be coming.” Orosius continued to scratch his ear. “Felt it in my bones, I did.” A huge man with piercing, silvery eyes, a bulbous red nose that had surely been broken more than once, and a great, bushy black beard, he filled the doorway.
    He was also blocking it, deliberately.
    His odd eyes narrowed. “Calum couldn’t keep his tongue from flapping, eh?”
    Magnus forgot his intention to treat the seer with respect. “I’d rather you put such tidings in my own ears before filling Calum’s head with nonsense.” Orosius gave him a chiding look. “As it happens, I meant to tell you. That long-nosed Calum darkened my door before I had a chance.”
    “You could’ve come straight to Badcall.”
    “Harrumph.” Orosius rocked back on his heels and glared at Magnus. “I need to sleep after seeing the like. And with everyone tromping a track to my door of late, I haven’t had my rest.”
    “You can sleep after I’ve had my answers.” Magnus glowered back at him. “What’s this about seeing me dead?”
    “Only what I saw, no more.”
    “You erred.”
    “Be the first time, if I did.” Orosius bristled. “I’m not a storyteller, spinning tales to fill a long, cold evening.” He swelled his chest, looking proud. “I speak true, whether or not my words are pleasing.”
    “Then I’ll tell you what pleases me.” Magnus drew himself up likewise. “Standing in Godred’s blood was more than satisfying. And I’ll no’ be dying until I’ve danced in Sword Breaker’s guts.”
    “Could be that’s so.” Orosius shifted and a waft of peat smoke drifted from the cottage’s dim interior. “I didnae see your end happening. I only saw—”
    “I know what you saw.” Magnus’s gaze met the seer’s. “And it wasn’t me with Liana.” Orosius’s heavy black brows drew together. Instead of answering, he peered at the basket of smoked herring in Magnus’s hand.
    “Be that your tribute for me?” Orosius’s sharp eyes narrowed on the fish. “I still have two strings o’ herring hanging o’er my fire from your last visit. What I need is more peat to burn.”
    “You’ll have your peat.” Magnus turned a sour glance on a fresh curl of smoke whirling out into the cold morning. He knew if he peered around the corner of the cottage, he’d see a peat stack nearly as high as the one that supplied Badcall. “Truth is, you’re better supplied than most.”
    Looking belligerent, Orosius folded his arms over his barrel-sized chest. “If my kettle isn’t kept simmering, there’s