Free Highland Master by Amanda Scott

bigger boats an ye let a pair of our gillies row it.”
    “I don’t mind the rowing, and all three of us can swim,” she said, confirming Fin’s earlier deduction.
    Mackintosh turned to him. “Can ye no manage a pair of oars yourself, then?”
    Fin smiled. “She would not let me.”
    She said, “With Boreas in the stern, as he must be, Fin is too heavy to—”
    “Ye should properly call the man Sir Finlagh, I’d wager,” Mackintosh interjected, turning back to Fin. “Ye
have
won your knighthood, aye? As puffed up as your master is in his own esteem, I doubt he’d trust any lesser man with his messages.”
    “Who is this puffed-up master of his?” Lady Annis asked her husband.
    “I’ll tell ye that later an I tell ye at all. Now whisst, and let the man talk.”
    “I do have the honor to hold a knighthood,” Fin admitted.
    “And, nae doots, ye won that honor on the battlefield,” Mackintosh said. “Thus earning the name by which others do call ye.”
    “That’s right, sir,” Fin said, wondering if the old man would demand a list of the battles he had fought. He devoutly hoped that he would not.
    Before the Mackintosh replied, Lady Ealga said, “If you two mean to walk the shore of the loch, you should tell someone to fetch some apples and other food to sustain you until our midday meal. One always gets hungry, rambling about.”
    “I havena said that I approve this outing,” the Mackintosh reminded them all.
    To Fin’s surprise, Catriona said, “You do know that you can trust Boreas to protect me, sir. If Sir Finlagh should prove dangerous, that is.”
    Mackintosh chuckled. “Faith, ye do well enough protecting yourself. Ye may go, aye. Just bear in mind, lad, that I see more and ken more than ye think I do.”
    “I had deduced as much, aye, sir,” Fin said with increasing suspicion that the old man
did
know exactly who he was.
    Mackintosh said, “I’ve put out the word to send your lads here when they show themselves. Nae doots, they’ll arrive by suppertime if not afore then.”
    Fin thanked him and returned his attention to his food.
    While he finished his meal, he tried to recall all that he had heard about the Captain of Clan Chattan. Men had called him canny and shrewd. Others spoke highly of his integrity. All said that his word was his bond and that no one had known him to break it. But the same was true of most Highland lairds.
    A Highlander who broke his word lost the trust of neighbors, friends, and family, let alone that of any enemy clan with whom he might have to parley.
    No one had suggested, either, that the Mackintosh played the verbal games that some men played when they did give their word, such as arranging their words with care so they could draw on that phrasing later to prove that what
seemed
to be breaking a promise was not. Such men were likely to earn more scorn than respect.
    Fin decided that Mackintosh would be fair with him when he learned that he was a Cameron. If he was fair, he would not erupt in fury or order Fin hanged or thrown into a pit (doubtless water-filled if it lay in a dungeon at Rothiemurchus).
    Recalling his safe conduct from Rothesay, Fin sighed. He would do better to depend on the old man’s reputation, considering what Mackintosh thought of Davy.
    “Do you want to go at once, Sir Finlagh?”
    Lost in thought, aware of little beyond a hum of low conversation, Fin started at the sound of Catriona’s voice. He had not realized that she had risen from her stool and walked behind the others to speak to him.
    He said, “I must fetch my sword. Have you aught to do before we go?”
    “Just to fetch some apples and Boreas. He’ll be in the kitchen, because our cook is his most favored friend. But I’ve only to shout down the stairs for him.”
    “That thin dress won’t keep the chill off,” he pointed out. He noted that the cheerful yellow kirtle fit her body sleekly and looked soft to the touch. It delineated her delightful curves even better