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damage within the keep itself was far less pervasive than it was outside the curtain walls, leading him to believe that the fire came from within. The damage inside was oddly disproportionate. One section of buildings below the parapets had caught fire, but the rest of the bailey appeared untouched. In his experience, even the most well aimed incendiary arrows did not discriminate. If the attackers had let loose a barrage of burning missiles, the entire bailey would show signs of the blaze. But that was not the case here. In fact, it seemed almost as though some careless lug on the parapets had simply mishandled his flame, dropping a lit arrow onto the thatch below.
    Moving on to the gates, there seemed little evidence of forced entry there, and based upon the testimonies of those he spoke with, the attackers had gained entry through tunnels below the donjon—a bungled attempt, engaged with little forethought, which only led Jaime to believe that rushing the castle had not been not their intent all along. It seemed as though they must have received word of Jaime’s approach and rushed to make a move. Clearly these were not trained warriors. They were simply men.
    Who was the girl?
    He wanted to know, but forced his attention on more pressing issues, realizing that these Highlanders were a stubborn, irascible, opportunistic lot. They would not simply give David this stronghold, nor would they relent until they wrested it from his control. But Jaime was not stupid enough to leave himself or Keppenach vulnerable. As soon as he had an opportunity, he would inspect the tunnels below, and in the meantime he would fortify the guards with his own men.
    Considering the sizable job to be accomplished, he heaved a sigh. His breath hung in the air as his gaze skimmed the parapets—a jagged rampart smiling heavenward like an old man with missing teeth.
    By most standards, Keppenach was a mean keep, hardly worth fighting for, and yet Jaime understood the castle’s worth. Seated at the base of the corries, atop a hillock nestled against the mountain, the land sloped gently downward into a valley surrounded by pinewoods. It was an ideal location, affording its laird the protection of the mountains and woodlands and the rich yields of good farmland below.
    Once upon a time this had been a sturdy stronghold and Jaime would like to see it so again.
    He examined the foundation, which in some places remained more than six feet thick. Centuries old, the ancient Roman stonework was far superior to the crude mortared wood that came thereafter and Jaime fully intended to capitalize on this discovery. Little by little he would rebuild the curtain wall and keep. And there were a number of crucial design changes he intended to employ, not the least of which was to dig a moat at the base of the hill. A castle’s defenses were weakest at the entrances and this one was no exception.
    His squire found him surveying the gates, examining the wood and every last bolt. “My lord,” he said. “The prisoners have been secured.”
    Jaime bent to slide his fingers across the rotten wood along the bottom. “Good,” he said absently. The portcullis itself was iron, but the mechanism was rusted and old and needed to be oiled. In fact, the entire rig needed new bolts, and he might coat the planks with a treatment he’d devised to preserve the wood. With enough men, and good weather, he didn’t believe the task should take more than a day. As it stood he didn’t believe it could withstand a battering ram and it was much to their good fortune that the enemy’s numbers had been so small. Given a bigger army, the castle could have been quickly overrun.
    “My lord,” Luc persisted. “I’ve taken the liberty of requisitioning the laird’s chamber for you. Is there aught more you would have me do?”
    Jaime realized the lad was working hard to prove himself in the absence of his first in command. He peered up at the youth. “How did it go with MacLaren’s