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her most unusual in looks.
Black hair, long and full with waves and curls, framed a lean face
with sun-kissed skin. The woman's high forehead rose above striking
black brows, slightly slanted dark eyes with thickly lashed
eyelids. A thin nose and wide, red lips accented her angular
jaw.
    Deep brown eyes studied first Grunda then
Muriele. A hesitant smile flirted with her full lips. She carried a
beige smock and brown kirtle draped over her arm.
    "I thought this may have belonged to you?"
She handed the clothing to Muriele and glanced uneasily at the
door. "We are near alike in height. I was told to discard it afore
the next sun."
    "Thank you. 'Tis most kind to return it to
me. I feared I'd have to stay wrapped in a blanket until my kirtle
dried enough to mend it."
    Grunda stared at Muriele as if she saw
something far away then scowled.
    "
He
is a fool, Esa."
    Esa's gaze darted to Grunda and back, but she
ignored the blunt statement as if she had not heard it. She looked
hopefully at Muriele.
    "Per chance when this fortnight ends, we
might talk together?"
    The sounds of a male striding past outside
made her stiffen and back against the wall. She held her breath
until the footsteps passed the hut. When her gaze returned to
Muriele, Esa reminded her of a hare lifted into the sky with a
raptor's claws piercing its back.
    "Aye. 'Twould be most agreeable." Muriele
felt drawn to the woman who seemed in dire need of kindness.
    Her words barely faded before the girl
glanced though one of the door cracks then opened it to slip
silently out and disappear in the shadows.
    "How strange. Why was she so afeared of
someone seeing her here?" Muriele rubbed her hand over the familiar
clothing, remembering the smooth feel of it. 'Twould be comforting
to again wear something soft and finely made.
    "She lives in a small room in the keep's
north tower. Away from the others." Grunda shook her head. "I
believe 'tis the golden angel she fears, though I have never seen
him with her. 'Tis whispered most of the year she is happy and
outgoing. When he arrives, 'tis not long before they dinna see her
at all. The first few days after he leaves, she wears clothing
which covers her skin from neck to toe."
    "Perchance it is the Ruthless one who
mistreats her?"
    "I thought the same. But never has anyone
seen Magnus near the north tower. During last year's visit, the
blacksmith's daughter returned through the postern gate late of a
night. Hearing the tower door ease open, she ducked behind a tree.
Moonlight glinted off a man's pale hair."
    "Could it not have been one of the men here?
Many look like their Danish sires from long ago?"
    "Nay. Only
he
strides with such
arrogance. Any other would walk calmly away."
    Grunda banked the peat fire and they moved to
sit at the small wooden table to drink cups of hot broth.
    "We must rise afore the sun if ye are to
receive yer new duties. The master will go with the early patrol at
first light to show all the villagers his sons are here."
    They unrolled the two pallets and placed them
close to the cook fire for warmth. Though it was summer, the
Highlands were never warm of a night. Exhausted, they rolled
tightly in their blankets and slept.
    o0o
    Olaf lounged back in his seat at the high
table with Magnus and Feradoch, the two young men he had forged
together to protect Clan Gunn for the next generation. Everything
had gone as he planned. Since the blood oath, the Gunns had
prospered, adding more and more of their neighbor's lands to their
own.
    It was quite canny of him to have arranged
for the powerful Morgans to be at his beck and call whenever he
felt the need for extra warriors. Of course, the casualties of war
were mostly from the Morgan ranks for he placed them in the most
dangerous positions.
    Olaf always reported to Magnus' father Angus
that as many or more of the Gunn warriors were lost in battle. To
make sure the Morgan chief never learned the deceit, he had those
'lost' men stay hidden until after the Morgan