THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

their labor, smiled for the first time in hours, too.
    She congratulated them, and then asked, “Are the fresh rushes on the lowest level and the sign nailed to the door?”
    Rachael translated and Kari grinned. “‘Aye, my lady.”
    “And the dogs—-lymers—are washed?” They nodded again. “Great. Now to the kitchen.”
    ~#~
     
    Duncan’s stomach growled and his eyes burned. Isaac and Angus had been sequestered with him for what felt like a lifetime, as they sorted out their dilemma.
    Albany had ordered the clan leaders to pair up in teams of two for the first rounds of the tournament. He paired them not friend with friend but foe with foe in an effort to keep the peace, teaming Duncan with the Bruce, which to Duncan’s mind just tempted fate. He still wanted the man dead.
    “So ‘tis agreed,” Duncan said, coming to his feet. “We’ll invite the Bruce and a limited contingent here.” It bothered him that his holding and table were not as impressive as the Bruce’s but Blackstone offered security. “Over mead we can work out our difficulties. He’ll no doubt want to ride first in all events, which I will agree to, as a condition to Isaac holding the purses. I want separate stabling and guards for my warhorses. I do not trust the man not to slip something to mine should we win the first rounds and need ride against each other for the gold cup.”
    “It’s as sound a plan as any,” Angus agreed after he’d spent the last hour inventing what-if situations they might have to counteract.
    Isaac yawned. “My lord, I’m starving and ‘tis past the time for clear thought. If ye don’t mind, I’ll like to see my wife and then my bed.”
    Ack! My ladywife.
    The last time Duncan had excused himself to seek out Beth, he’d been met with blatant hostility as she bustled about. When he’d asked for her time, she’d glared and closed all but her middle finger into a fist in answer. Stunned, he’d laughed. Victorious Sassenach archers used the same obscene gesture when confronting the French, men fond of cutting the third finger from captured enemy archers so they couldn’t fire a crossbow ever again.
    Tired now, he had no desire to try broaching Beth’s defenses yet again, but try he must. He’d been in the wrong.
    At the keep’s second level, Sean MacDonnell of Keppoch, now married to Duncan’s cousin, halted him.
    “My liege, I’ve just returned from purchasing the iron in Oban and have news.”
    “Aye?”
    Sean shifted his weight nervously. “I’ve no fondness for carrying tales but...” He looked about and behind then lowered his voice. “I met a man there who, being in his cups and quite sotted, boasted of a relationship with a woman of our sept. He described her and she cannot be any other than Flora.”
    “Then ‘tis good.” The thought of marrying his sister-by-marriage off made him grin.
    “Nay, my lord, ye do not understand. The man is a Munro now attached to the Bruce clan.”
    Duncan frowned. “The Bruce’s?”
    “Aye, and he’s not inclined toward handfasting or marriage. He’s a tinker, my lord, someone beneath her aspirations. I did not have a good feelin’ just from his manner, my lord, so I bring it to ye attention.”
    “Thank ye, Sean.” Flora, being a Campbell and in his household, had nay reason for meeting a man of the Bruce’s.
    None.
    As they continued down the stairs, Duncan murmured, “Angus, set a man to watch her. I want to know where and when she meets this man again.”
    “Aye, but mayhap Rachael...?”
    “’Twould be better, less conspicuous,” Isaac agreed. “I’ll bring it to my ladywife’s attention.”
    Duncan nodded as he came to full stop just steps inside the hall. Angus, paying no heed, ran into his back.
    “What in all that’s holy...?” Duncan asked no one in particular. His advisors stepped around him.
    Angus started to laugh. “Appears yer ladywife took it into her head to civilize us.”
    The great hall, normally just a clutter of chairs, tables, and benches scattered over rushes, had been swept clean to the wood and divided across the middle by a pair of waist high, open chests, their shelves still full of books from the library. The end of the hall in which Duncan stood held a long dais with a head table before the fireplace. All the other tables were arranged in neat rows, separated by a center aisle. Each table was adorned with wild flowers, two large wooden bowls, candles, and odd white fabric cones. Mouth agape,