another skirmish between the two sisters. They had always been at odds, locked in a constant battle for supremacy in the kitchen. It was difficult for Una to accept the fact that Morag had won. After a fashion. She was the only one who could still cook. Una could only supervise. And even then, in silence.
âTell her sheâs using too much salt,â Una barked.
Lana sent her a reproving frown. She didnât like being ordered around by the dead. Aside from which, Morag wasnât using too much salt. Her bannocks were perfectly seasoned. âIâll be back later,â she said, giving Morag a kiss on the cheek. âIâm going to check on the dogs in the stable.â
âAch. Wait.â Morag hurried into the larder and returned with a bundle of scraps. âHere.â
âThank you. They will appreciate this.â She shot her friend a smile and made her way into the bailey and to the stables. Several days ago, Hannah and her husband had rescued a dog that had been attacked by her vicious owner. In the melee, Dunnetâs hound Brùid had been injured as well. Lana made it a point to visit as often as she could and try to soothe their spirits.
It was a sad thing when a creature was savaged. Though she was hardly an angel, Lana tried to do what she could to bring peace to the world. She liked to think it was her purpose on this earth. And if it was not, it didnât matter. It was the purpose she chose.
She sighed as she stepped into the stable, greeting Beelzebub, her sisterâs stallion, with a welcoming pat on his velvety muzzle. Then, as she made her way down the long line, the other horses poked their heads out for a pat as well. They were such fine creatures, Dunnetâs mounts. A beauty, every one.
Though she didnât ride, Lana loved the stables. The familiar peace soothed her spirit. She loved the snuffle of the horses, the smells of hay and animal musk, the shadowed serenity.
The hounds were settled in the stall on the end, next to the stable masterâs rooms, because Ewan was a skilled healer. He and Lana had spent many hours caring for the dogs, changing their bandages and tending their wounds. More than one night, Lana had fallen asleep cuddling Brùid and willing him to heal. And more than once, sheâd woken to find that sometime in the night Ewan had covered her with a blanket while she slept.
He wasnât about this morning. No one was, save Gavin, a young squire who had perished trying to save the animals in a fire that had ravaged the original stables several hundred years ago. Lana liked Gavin; he loved horses as well. So much, heâd given his life for them. She nodded to him, and he waved.
When she opened the stall door and slipped inside, Brùid whined a greeting and Lana settled on the hay at his side. The female, Sadie, lifted her head and thumped her tail, but her interest didnât truly perk until Lana opened the cloth in which Morag had wrapped the scraps.
âOch. Hungry are ye?â she cooed as she fed the dogs the morsels sheâd brought. Though Sadie was a lady, daintily accepting each bit, Brùid was less polite. He gobbled each chunk down and then peered at her expectantly for more.
She was nearly finished when a bustle at the stable door captured her attention. She peered through the slats of the stall door and her pulse picked up as she caught sight of Galen Robb.
He was a fine-looking man, so tall and braw, and wrapped in the Sinclair plaid. His shoulders were broad and his features were those of a Greek god, perfect in every way. With his golden locks and his broad smile, he was a man many women in the area fancied.
Compared with the man in her dreams, though, his glory paled.
He was in the company of Trevor Clay. The men chattered as they led their mounts into the stables and proceeded to remove the tack.
âMaisey?â Galen asked on a laugh. âThe milkmaid?â
Trevor set his hands on his