Free The Thief by Allison Butler

profile. Even after a score of years living as an honorary Elliot and one of Lachlan’s most trusted friend’s, Duff had never grown comfortable with praise, no matter how deserved. The man lived to do his duty with honour. Failure wasn’t possible.
    ‘Any losses?’
    ‘None I’m aware of,’ Duff replied. ‘The guards are rounding up the cattle now.’ Distressed lowing echoed eerily in the night.
    ‘See to any injured and get the men to move the herd down to the winter enclosure.’
    ‘Aye.’ Duff galloped off to do Lachlan’s bidding.
    Lachlan stared in the direction the English had fled. They’d been lucky, but the attack gave him more reason to marry Kenzie tonight. He needed to increase his clan’s security as swiftly as possible and a union with Kenzie meant he could count on Irvine’s aid and support, just as Clan Elliot would give the same in return.
    Kenzie’s soft sigh snared his attention. He looked on as she lifted her steady hands to push her hair out of her face. Moonlight caressed the dark waves as lavender suffused the air.
    Lachlan watched her calm movements as she tugged her cloak more securely about her shoulders. No frightened tears, no hysterical ranting. Even with the clanging and clashing of steel over her head, she hadn’t panicked. Unexpected admiration unfurled within him.
    He sheathed his sword and nudged De Brus into motion. ‘You act as if you’ve been caught in the middle of a skirmish more than once.’
    ‘I’ve witnessed several skirmishes, but have never been involved in one. Nor have I been sprawled atop a horse during one.’
    The hint of mirth in her tone sparked his humour. ‘A first for each of us, then.’
    ‘You’ve never been involved in a skirmish before?’ Disbelief coloured her tone.
    ‘I’ve fought my share of skirmishes but never with a woman so wantonly draped between my thighs.’ Lachlan ignored her gasp and smiled. His soon-to-be-wife was a mixture of worldly wisdom and naive innocence. An interesting combination, the latter an area he suddenly longed to tutor her out of.
    His mount carried them down the grass-spattered slope and they rode into the pool of light created by the flaming torches, positioned every few feet atop the curtain wall. A guard on the battlements shouted a greeting as one side of the massive wooden gates opened wide.
    The last of the tension riding his shoulders ebbed as they rode through. He was home.
    Caelan greeted them inside the bailey. ‘A nasty night’s work, brother.’
    ‘Aye, Caelan. But the English scum left as they’d come, empty-handed. Some will have trouble finding a peaceful rest this night.’
    ‘Iona is ready and waiting to tend those of ours who are injured.’
    ‘Good. Duff’s checking for any wounded as we speak.’
    Lachlan dismounted and tossed the reins to a young stable lad. Securing his hands at Kenzie’s waist, he turned and addressed his brother. ‘I have my suspicions, Caelan, but tell me why Castle Redheugh is lit like a beacon?’
    He lifted the cause of his suspicions from the saddle to the ground, but didn’t release her. He wasn’t letting her escape a second time. She squared her shoulders but didn’t attempt to move away.
    ‘Aye, well. It seems someone went missing, Lachlan.’ Caelan cleared his throat. ‘Right after a fire broke out in the chamber we keep for special callers.’
    Lachlan stilled and looked at Caelan. ‘Was anyone hurt?’ The lithe body within his hold stiffened. She’d experienced an English raid and barely flinched, but turned as rigid as a warrior’s pike when he asked his brother a few questions regarding her escape.
    ‘Thankfully, nae.’
    Relief washed through him like a cool balm to a fiery wound. His palms absorbed Kenzie’s shudder of relief. She hadn’t caused the skirmish, but the fire …
    ‘And the chamber?’
    ‘The bedding’s in ashes. One stone wall is blackened and the timber floor scorched, but the chamber is sound