Highland Master by Hannah Howell

“They wandered home?”
    “Aye, m’lady.” Joan grinned, giving a beauty to her plain, round face, which had undoubtedly been what had captured the heart of her tall, handsome husband, a man who was now running about France with far too many other Banuilt men.
    “What amuses ye?”
    “Weel, either the men who stole them were a witless lot, or they let a few come back here apurpose. I be thinking it was the latter. I have kenned enough Grant men o’er the years to ken that they are nay a witless lot. And some of them are nay so far removed from their reiver ancestors.”
    “Ah, so ye, too, are thinking that Sir John Grant’s men are nay in favor of his tricks. ’Tis something I have begun to believe and Sir Brett and his men suspected. E’en Nessa believes it.”
    “Aye. There be a lot of ties atween people here and the people there. Sir John’s father was a fine mon though nay a great laird, and ne’er a bother. I dinnae ken what went amiss with his son. ’Tis sad and all, but Sir John isnae the mon his father was, and his people ofttimes complained on the fact. They say he is a harsh laird and given to fits of temper. Weel, they told us such things afore this trouble started, and, once the harassment began, we ceased speaking to each other.”
    There was something in the tone of Joan’s voice and the way her gaze briefly drifted to the right that told Triona there was a lie being told. Obviously not all ties had been broken. For a moment she considered pressing the woman for the truth and, if there were some meetings between her people and Sir John’s, demanding that they cease immediately. Then she inwardly shook her head. As of the moment, no blood had been spilled, something she suspected was aided by those ties that had not been completely broken. Until this fight with Sir John turned bloody, she would simply ignore it all. Thus far, communication between the people of Banuilt and those of Gormfeurach had really been to her benefit, such as in the mysterious return of four of the six stolen cattle.
    It was sad that the two clans had to remain apart, thought Triona as she looked around the village again. The fever had hurt the Grants as much as it had hurt her own people. There were far too many widows and widowers in both places. Somehow Sir John had kept hold of enough supplies and coin to keep his remaining men from going off in search of it as hers were forced to, but he had not been able to replace the women they had lost to the fever. For reasons she knew she would never fully understand, the fever had hit the women of Gormfeurach the hardest. In Banuilt it had struck harder at the men. Instead of pulling apart, the people should be pulling together to rebuild both places. The way Sir John wanted that to happen was not one she could accept. The mere thought of being forced to marry him made her shudder with revulsion.
    “Do ye think our men will soon return from France?” asked Joan. “It has been near eighteen months.”
    “I dinnae ken, Joan,” Triona replied. “In truth, I dinnae really understand why they left at all. We were nay in any danger of starving. Mayhap they thought they couldnae abide being ruled by a woman.” Triona did try to understand why the men left but could not fully stop herself from fearing now and again that it was her becoming laird that had done it.
    “Och, nay, they didnae care about that. My Aiden was all excited after talking with a mon o’er an ale. Man’s name was Birk. Aiden said the mon was going to fight in France and that there was a lot of coin to be made in the doing of it. He told our men of others who had gained riches doing the fighting for the lairds and the king o’er there, and that they welcomed the sword of a Scotsmon. Threw in a few tales of fighting the Sassenach and getting paid to do it, and nay one of those fools would heed us women when we asked them nay to go. Nay, they set off all cheery and promised to return with purses heavy enough