Free Taming a Wild Scot: A Claimed by the Highlander Novel by Rowan Keats

village for a time.”
    “With the lass?” Leod asked.
    “Aye.”
    “Bloody hell,” Cormac grumbled. “Our lot is becoming sorrier by the moment. You get the battles
and
the lasses.”
    “’Tis not so merry a tune as you would sing,” Niall said. Now would be the time to share what he’d learned of Ana’s crime, to tell them about the poison. But he did not. “She has red hair.”
    “And a fiery disposition to go along with it?” Ivarr asked, grinning.
    “Aye.”
    “Freckles?”
    Niall shook his head. “Nary a one.”
    “At least, none that you’ve yet seen,” Cormac added slyly.
    The others laughed. Niall got lost in the vision of Ana lying naked in his arms. He’d happily spend a few hours exploring her skin for evidence of a freckle. Not that she was likely to let him look. He’d be lucky to see her hair unbound. “I’ve located the baron’s coffers, but the lock on the door will not be easy to breach.”
    Ivarr grimaced. “Only a miserly man has need of a lock.”
    “Would a hammer and chisel do the deed?” Leod asked.
    “Only if I had a mind to rouse half the manor with my efforts,” Niall responded. “The chamber is in an oft-used passageway. I’d prefer a saddler’s needle and a hoof pick.”
    “Why those?”
    “Properly inserted into the keyhole, they can release the lock catch.”
    Leod blinked. “Truly?”
    “Truly.” It had been many years since he’d picked a lock, but with a little luck and bit of time, he could open it.
    “Dare I ask how you acquired such a nefarious skill?”
    The years before his father claimed him were not ones he cared to talk about. Most other warriors came from well-to-do families. They knew nothing of the desperation inspired by going days without food. “Not all of us were raised on milk and honey.”
    Niall crossed the camp to the lean-to where their gear was stored. Digging through his horse tack, he located the tools he needed. A square of soft leather wrapped around them prevented rattling.
    “Is it a simple task?” Ivarr asked. “Releasing the latch?”
    Niall shrugged. “It requires patience and a deft hand.”
    “Pardon me for saying such, but if speed is of the essence, should we not consider robbing the steward?”
    His query met with silence.
    “He carries the key to every lock at his belt,” Ivarr reminded them.
    “He’s also a prominent figure whose absence would be swiftly noticed,” Cormac pointed out. “We’d not have much time before the alarm was raised. . . .”
    The faces of all were grim. No one was eager to attack an innocent man, but stealing the key was an option that must be considered.
    Niall stuffed the lock-picking tools, his two spare lèines, and a black brat into a burlap bag. 
    “We cannot be certain the necklace is in the baron’s coffers,” he said. “If we rob the steward, we’ll lose our chance to search the rest of the keep. For now, we stay the course.”
    He added a few more items to his bag, then heaved it over his shoulder and turned to face his men. “If I fail to return in two days’ time, consider me lost.”
    “And the necklace?” Leod asked.
    There was no need to exhort them not to give up. They’d each sworn a lifelong vow to protect Dunstoras and its laird. “Do what you must.”
    The warriors nodded.
    Niall studied each of their faces again. He could not see a traitor in any of them, but the knot in his gut said he wasn’t wrong. He’d need to be especially wary until he sorted the faithful from the wrathful. Leaving Jamie in the camp was risky, but he had to believe the real threat was to the necklace, not the lad. There was no place for the boy in the village.
    “Leod, take a water pouch and go in search of young Jamie.” To the two other men, he said, “Question the thieves. I’ll return anon.”
    Then he headed home to his wife.

Chapter5
    A s Ana passed through the torchlit courtyard, she glanced at the kirk.
    The arched oak door was open, and the flickering light