what the future may hold. Afraid of lots of things. Everyone is afraid of something.â
It warmed Lanaâs heart to see Fiona attempt a smile. âWh-what are you afraid of?â
She chuckled. âEverything.â She wouldnât mention the loch, not to this girl. Not now. âBut when youâre afraid of everything, nothing holds any true terror. Donât you think?â
Fiona observed her with wide eyes, and then nodded.
Lana took the shivering child to the kitchens, where it was warm and there were bannocks cooling. They nibbled on themâthough they were hardâand sipped tea as they recovered. Then Lana left Fiona with Morag, who clucked over her like a mother hen, and made her way to her rooms to change.
As she crested the stairs, her sister bustled toward her, but, wrapped in her thoughts, Hannah didnât see her. Her features were drawn into a sour pucker, and her fingers were entangled. A sure sign of agitation. When Hannah finally noticed her, she stopped short and blinked. âOh. Lana.â A distracted murmur. Then her eyes widened as she took in Lanaâs dishevelment. âWhat happened to you?â
Lana fluffed out her skirts, which were still damp. âI went for a stroll ⦠in the loch.â
âOh, lord.â Hannah knew she avoided deep water at all costs, and why. âAre you all right?â
âI am, but Dunnet needs to have a talk with John Robin. He was dunking Fiona. Mercilessly.â
âWhy, that rotter.â
âAye.â Lana nodded. âHe needs a firm hand.â
âOn his backside.â
Lana couldnât help but snort a laugh.
âI will have Dunnet see to it.â Hannahâs brow wrinkled and Lana was once again struck by her sisterâs preoccupation. She could feel the tension humming on the air. Something was wrong and Hannah was trying to hide it.
âDo tell me what has happened,â she said they hooked arms and headed for Lanaâs rooms.
Hannah frowned. âWhat makes you think something has happened?â
Lana merely quirked a brow. Hannah should know. She should know by now.
âOh, right.â Hannah blew out a breath and shook her head; her inky black hair caught the light. âDunnet has had word from the Duke of Caithness.â
Something unpleasant curled in Lanaâs belly. Sheâd never met the duke, their powerful overlord, but sheâd heard of him. By all accounts, he was a pompous, self-important popinjay. A Scottish laird who had neglected his clans for decades, preferring the decadent entertainments of London to the tedious business of ruling and protecting his people.
Heâd only recently returned to his homeland, but in that short time, heâd swiftly validated the reputation that preceded him. Last month Dunnet had gone to meet the man in his castle in Ackergill, and it hadnât gone well. The duke had announced he expected Dunnet to clear his land, to evict his tenants and import sheep. It was a horrifying prospect. Thousands would be homeless, with nowhere to go. Hundreds would starve. It had happened in the south, to Fionaâs mother in fact.
That the Duke of Caithness was planning the same here was ghastly.
Naturally, Dunnet had refused outright.
No laird with a conscience could agree to such an atrocious act.
Theyâd all been waiting, on tenterhooks, to see how their overlord would respond to Dunnetâs refusal. Clearly, judging from Hannahâs expression, the duke had issued his response. And clearly, it wasnât good news.
âWhat did the duke have to say?â she asked through a tight throat.
Hannahâs tension heightened. The subsequent buzzing in Lanaâs head increased. âHeâs coming,â Hannah whispered. âHeâs coming here.â
Lana stared at her sister, her heart aching. For she knew what the duke was bringing with him.
He was bringing death and destruction.
Â
CHAPTER