Free Susan King - [Celtic Nights 01] by The Stone Maiden Page A

bowed. But his keen, sky-blue eyes were sharp with concern.
    "I am fine," she said. Lome grasped her hand, and nodded thanks to Sebastien. Then he walked past them to kneel beside the fallen boar.
    Giric came near them and murmured thanks in Gaelic to Sebastien. While he spoke, he held Alainna's hand, and she smiled down at him. She saw Sebastien cast them a small frown. Lome returned, holding the javelin that he had pulled free. He wiped it clean on his plaid and handed it back to Sebastien, who dropped it into a saddle loop.
    "Clan Laren thanks you, sir knight," Lome said in English. "You killed a boar as fierce as the one who took down the mighty champion Diarmuid in ages past. You have saved our beloved girl. We are forever in your debt."
    Alainna stared in amazement. She was not surprised to hear formal words of thanks from Lome, but she was startled by his use of English. Lome rarely used the southern tongue, regarding it as inferior to Gaelic. That demonstration of respect went far beyond his words of gratitude.
    "'Twas an honor to help the demoiselle," Sebastien said.
    "My thanks as well, sirrah," she said, although she would not declare herself indebted forever, as Lorne had done. She swung her leg free to scramble down from the horse.
    Sebastien grabbed her arm to help her down, and held her wrist once she stood beside the horse. Even through the thick leather of his glove, she felt the comforting strength of his grip. She pulled away.
    "I hope some fresh boar meat will help to make up for the loss of the deer," he said.
    "It will," she answered, then stepped back.
    "Good meat, and a fine champion to thank for it," Lorne said, smiling. "You and your men are welcome to share our meal at Kinlochan, of course. It was your kill, after all."
    "We are grateful for your generosity," Sebastien said. "Some of my men will help you tie up the boar. My lady, I am glad you are safe." He nodded briefly to her, and guided his horse toward his men.
    Safe. The word echoed in her mind as she watched him ride over to speak to his comrades. Safe. He could not know how essential safety was to her. No champion, even if he slayed a monster at her feet, could vanquish the fear that haunted her daily—that her clan would disappear forever.
    She sighed and passed her hand wearily over her head. Lorne circled an arm around her, and she leaned gratefully into his sinewy embrace. As they walked away, she wondered how truly safe any of them were now that the king had sent Normans to Kinlochan.

 
     
     
    Chapter 6

     
    "We would like one of our guests to tell the evening story now that our supper is done," Lorne said from his chair beside the central open hearth. "Sebastien le Bret, tell us a tale from your own country, if you will."
    Sebastien took another sip from his cup of ale to cover his surprise. The men and women of the clan, most of whom seemed as elderly as Lorne, looked at Sebastien from their seats around the hearth. His own men, seated on benches alongside two trestle tables, stared at him also.
    His impulse was to refuse. He paused. The fire in the circular stone hearth cast a reddish glow that reflected on the waiting faces, and a hot crackle filled the silence.
    He glanced around the room, a large chamber that showed solid construction and simple comfort. Kinlochan's main hall was a long, raftered room made of stout timbers, with wooden piers dividing side aisles into bays that flanked the central area. A thick layer of clean dry grasses and flower petals on the floor added a clean fragrance. The planked walls were hung with lengths of wool woven in colorful patterns, and various weapons and large shields studded in bronze were suspended around the upper walls.
    Seated on benches and stools were a host of Highlanders, Norman knights, and the squires who had accompanied the king's men. All of them looked expectantly at Sebastien. He cleared his throat, and sipped from his cup once again. He had sometimes told stories to his