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a capable bunch, brawny and straight.
    “First, we set up housing. One structure, a simple one that serves our needs fae now. We are more concern wit plantin’.” Oran pointed toward the fields.
    “Why did you leave the Grants?”
    Brenna sent him a sharp look. The men squirmed.
    Oran straightened, the top of his head reached Caelen’s chin. “I codna build a life there. The clan hadna forgotten the tales of my mother being a witch.”
    “A witch?”
    “Aye.” He kept his head up. “Before my birth, the crops had failed. Someone said my mother was in the fields the night before a terrible storm that drowned the crops. So, she was branded a witch.”
    Oran tensed with each word. He finished his telling through clenched teeth.  
    A witch’s son—that would stir up problems. Caelen didn’t believe in witches. Failing crops, sacrifices, death, and other nonsense was nothing more than the tales of a weak mind. Thanks to Scottish weather, crops were ruined. Animals were killed. People died.
    That wouldn’t stop others from fearing it especially Gilroy. If there was a potion, amulet, or another foolish item to ward off the evil eye, he carried it on his person and filled his home with it. That meant Tavish would learn of this.
    Brenna tried to catch Caelen’s eye. Instead, Oran met his hard regard. His nostrils began to flare. His ears reddened. Oran lowered his sight.
    When Oran swallowed, Caelen asked, “Can you fight?”
    “Aye an’ I will wenever I am called upon.” Conviction deepened his voice.
    “These men,” Caelen asked.
    Oran moved to his side and presented each man. There were ten and six men. All were young and healthy. That meant problems. Men became restless and could start fights with their pent up energy, and they needed wives. Chasing MacKenzie lasses could stir up more problems with the clan. Another problem to add to his growing list.
    “I served the laird,” one of the men said as Caelen spotted Oran and Brenna off to the side but near enough not to appear suspicious. Oran was talking. Brenna shook her head. Oran emphasized his words by jutting his chin after each one. She put her thumbnail in her mouth and then dropped it when she noticed Caelen watching her. She crossed to his side, a carefree look erasing the worry lines.
    What secret was she hiding?
     

 
     
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
    The horse wandered away again. Oran walked along the green. The loch was nearing and still he hadn’t found the horse. Every time the stupid beast was out in the field, he walked away. That animal was too important to their existence and these searches took time from the men’s day. Lucky for him, this was his day for the horse hunt.
    He halted as he spotted the cottar. The horse stood there as a woman stroked his long face. Oran hurried over.
    He slowed before he spooked the horse. He called out, “Good eve.”
    From around the animal, a face peeped out. The most beautiful face…Oran’s mouth fell open. That was the only part of him that moved. He didn’t even blink. Riot of reds—sparking copper, sunset reds, to firing bronzes—were scraped back and revealed her cool skin. Her skin was unmarred, and she had a beautiful, creamy complexion that made the flush pink of her full mouth seem even more plump. She lifted her brows and he knew she was real.
    He cleared his throat before he stammered a greeting. “I see ye hae found my horse.” He came forward, putting a swagger into every step.
    “He was stealin’ frae my garden.”
    He watched her wide mouth move. Her teeth were white and straight. She looked out the corner of her eye. The ghost of a playful smile twitched her mouth. He felt heat through his cheeks. She had caught him staring. He blinked. His mouth parted but he said nothing.
    “Have ye come to join him?” Her sweet tone rang, and it even had the horse’s ears twitching.
    Oran shook his head so rapidly his brain shook. “Nay. Nay. I wod ne’er.”
    Her hand rose to cover her