The Scot's Quest - Keira Montclair Page 0,1

waved for her to dismount.

When the two sheriffs turned their attention to her, she said, “What ill news do you bring this time? Another death that’s a lie, a promise from King Edward, a garrison on its way to attack us?”

The one she trusted was Sheriff De Fry, but of course it was the other man who answered her. She’d seen him before but couldn’t recall his name. She only knew she didn’t like the smug look on his face. “Is this how you thank someone who’s turned a favor for your clan?” he asked.

“What favor?”

De Fry said, “Sheriff Busby heard that King Edward has sent a large garrison of men out with orders to capture Alexander Grant. He is to be brought to the royal castle at Berwick. We came to advise him to go into hiding.”

Her heartbeat sped up so much she feared it would explode out of her chest. Grandsire looked completely calm. Even that tic in his jaw had stopped.

Grandsire said, “My thanks to both of you for the information. We’ll make our plans with that in mind.”

“Where will you go?” Busby asked.

“Nowhere that I will tell you. But I intend to leave in a few days.”

De Fry snorted, a smirk covering his face as he turned around and headed to his horse, ending the visit.

“I’m a Scot,” Busby objected, his face red. “You can trust me.”

“We’ll see. I wouldn’t entrust that information to many.”

Busby gave the old man a final glare before he, too, climbed onto his horse and flicked the reins without another word.

Alex watched him go, his stare telling Dyna that something about the man niggled at him. Busby felt wrong to her too. Her grandsire’s sense of discernment had come from a lifetime of fighting and leading, of experience, but Dyna’s skills were different. She’d been born with them. Sometimes they warned her away from people who intended harm, sometimes they even gave her knowledge of the future. It had always been that way, so it was impossible to explain how she knew the things she knew. She only understood that she did. With some people, her intuition was so undeniable they may as well be dressed like the devil himself.

This man wasn’t so clearly labeled, but she felt the warning nonetheless.

As soon as the sheriffs were out of hearing distance, Alasdair asked, “Do you believe them?” According to their elders, Alasdair was the image of Alex Grant in his younger days. He was especially close to Grandsire since his father, Jake, had passed on at a young age.

“I do,” Grandsire said. “The English tried to capture me through John, then through Kyla. Both attempts failed. The new English king, Edward’s son, doesn’t know much about fighting, but he knows how to give orders. I’m not concerned by a few groups of Englishmen. They don’t know the Highlands the way I do.” He tossed the end of his red, green, and black plaid over his shoulder as if to flaunt it. Grandsire wore his Scottish pride well, and it was little wonder—he was the man who’d made Clan Grant what it was in the Highlands.

One of the most powerful clans in all the land.

“True, they’ll probably never find you,” Els said, his light-colored locks blowing in the breeze. “I wonder if they still think they can force our warriors to fight for England.”

Grandsire nodded, then said, “We’ll only discuss this again in the solar. This is not information to be disseminated to the clan. Give me time to consider all I’ve heard. First we eat.”

He walked through the gates with his head held high, but Dyna could see his hip still pained him, as it had for the past few years. Aunt Jennie had given him salve to ease the joint pain, but it seemed to have worsened. She jumped down from her horse, pushed the animal toward a stable lad, and hurried after him.

“Grandsire,” she said, catching up to him and clutching his elbow. “You know we will protect you. You decide on a strategy and we will deliver. We’ll not allow the English bastards to get you. Ever.” She loved to walk beside her grandsire. When she was with him, it felt like his ferocity was bolstering her own strength and will.

Once they entered the bustling courtyard, her grandfather patted her arm and gave her a look that told her to hold her tongue for now. The man was capable of commanding the largest army in the Highlands with the