Free The Knight's Temptress (Lairds of the Loch) by Amanda Scott Page A

sat at the high table with a mug of ale and some documents before him.
    The three younger men went to join him, and Ian shouted for ale on the way.
    Thunder boomed outside as they took their seats. The two greyhounds raced across the hall, onto the dais, and dove under the table.
    Ian laughed, but Colquhoun said, “Don’t laugh at them. They’re just showing the good sense to avoid unnecessary danger.”
    Eyeing him speculatively, Ian decided his father had meant only what he had said, with no hidden meaning for a reckless son.
    “I ken fine that you sent a messenger to Dumbarton yesterday, sir,” he said. “Dare we hope that James Mòr has sent a reply?”
    “I know only that our gillie went, returned unmolested, and did deliver my message,” Colquhoun said. “The lad told me James Mòr promised to send a reply by evening today or tomorrow. So, you see, he has not refused to meet with me.”
    “I doubt we’ll hear from him in this weather,” Ian said.
    “Likely you’re right. But tact and conciliation take patience.”
    After a quick glance at Ian, Adam said to Colquhoun, “Did you inquire about the well-being of the lady captives, sir?”
    “I did not. I merely requested a meeting with him. In such ticklish matters, Adam lad, the less said, the better. One is less likely to cause friction.”
    Ian held his tongue, with effort.
    Then he remembered Lina’s startled look that first day and the speed with which she had composed herself. So quickly had her expression altered that he doubted Lizzie had noticed, let alone Patrick Galbraith. It would have been another matter had it been Mag rather than Patrick. Little escaped Mag’s eye.
    Just thinking about Lina’s being able to recover so quickly in such a place at such a time calmed him. If she could do that, he could keep his contentious thoughts to himself and avoid unnecessary conflict with his father.
    He had great respect for Colquhoun. Like most sons, he wanted to please his father. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint him.
    One day, if the Fates willed it so, he would step into his father’s place as Laird of Colquhoun and chief of their clan. The position had long been a lofty one, carrying great power even now when factions divided the Scottish nobility.
    Clans warred with clans and Highlander fought Lowlander. Both fought Borderers and the English. In the case of Clan Farlan and others, clans divided and fought amongst themselves. Meantime, Colquhoun kept the peace in Clan Colquhoun and with its neighbors. His skill in doing so demanded respect.
    Even so, Ian thought as he nodded for a gillie to pour him more ale and watched Colquhoun sign the documents before him, at times only by daring could a man achieve a difficult goal. If one refused to take risks…
    Colquhoun glanced up and met his gaze with a lifted eyebrow as if to ask if aught were amiss. When Ian replied a slight shake of his head, Colquhoun’s lips twitched, making Ian wonder if his father had somehow read his thoughts.
    Shaking his head again, this time to clear it, he told himself that thinking of Lina MacFarlan must have led him to imagine that his father had magical powers. Many people believed the blethers that Andrew Dubh and others had spewed over the years about Tùr Meiloach being a magical place that protected its rightful residents, even suggesting and some of its residents possessed such powers.
    Ian had visited Tùr Meiloach, and he disbelieved most of it. As for knowing what others thought, only the gods and perhaps the Fates could do that. Then he recalled certain events involving Mag’s wife, Andrena…
    Rob cleared his throat loudly.
    Giving him a look, Ian said, “Did you think I was ignoring you? My thoughts just went a-roving.”
    “You said you wanted to discuss how to wrest Dumbarton from James Mòr.”
    “In troth, I don’t have a plan yet,” Ian said frankly.“Something will present itself, though. It always does. Recall how it was when Jamie told