Moon Burning by Lucy Monroe Page A

him. Not much got past a wolf’s hearing. Not even when it was said behind closed doors.
    “Rowland is your previous laird?” Sabrine asked, the disgust in her voice when she said his name an exact echo of what was in Verica’s heart.
    “Aye,” Verica affirmed. “The king forced him to step aside so the Sinclairs’ second could take the role.”
    “Barr used to be second-in-command to the laird of the Sinclair clan?” Sabrine sounded like she found that strange indeed.
    They all had, no matter how much the clan silently rejoiced at the turn of events. And each and every one of them wondered how long their good fortune could last as well. How long before Barr and his second, Earc, ended up the same way her father had?
    The thought of Earc dead hurt in a way Verica refused to acknowledge. The man was not for her.
    She nodded as she moved around the room, tidying it. “That’s right.”
    “And he’s the most bestest warrior.” The awe in Brigit’s voice was refreshingly different from the reaction their former leader caused.
    “He’s big enough.” Sabrine’s praise sounded grudging.
    Very different than the reaction of the other Donegal clanswomen, who did their best to garner the new laird’s attention. Not that it had done any of them any good so far. He’d shown not the slightest preference, focusing entirely on improving the protection of their holding.
    “But he’s fast, too,” Brigit said with enthusiasm. “Faster than any of our warriors.”
    “He’s our warrior now, too.”
    “He lets Rowland stay though.” Brigit’s opinion of that state of affairs did not have to be spoken aloud; her tone and the way she held her body said it all.
    Verica sighed. The new laird did not realize what a treacherous serpent shared his table every mealtime. Which only increased the chance Barr would meet the same fate as her father. Her mother had warned her da, but he had believed himself invincible.
    His death had left his raven wife, as well as the rest of their clan, unprotected from Rowland’s perfidy.
    Just as Barr’s inevitable demise would do.
    “Has Barr been given a reason to banish this Rowland?” Sabrine asked.
    “No.”
    “You have not spoken to him on the matter?”
    “I have no proof of the accusations I wish to make.”
    They both looked at Brigit. The girl’s mother probably had proof of the man’s evil, but she would have to be willing to step forward. “I cannot blame another woman for not wanting to levy an accusation. Should something happen to Laird Barr, she would have no one to protect her from Rowland’s wrath.”
    “A woman needs to be able to protect herself.” Sabrine sounded quite serious.
    “How?” Brigit asked, keen interest glowing in her dark eyes.
    “Are the women of your clan not taught to fight?” Sabrine looked appalled.
    “No. Women are too weak,” Brigit recited one of Rowland’s common strictures.
    “Ridiculous.”
    “Do you know how to fight?” Brigit asked their patient.
    Sabrine opened her mouth and then closed it, looking torn.
    “I won’t tell,” Brigit promised. “Verica won’t, either. She’s good at keeping secrets.”
    Sabrine gave Verica a questioning look.
    “Better than my apprentice knows.” Bird shifters had to be. Verica’s own double-shifter nature would get her killed if it ever became known.
    Sabrine nodded then.
    “Really? You can fight? Can you teach me?”
    That agonized look of indecision crossed Sabrine’s face again.
    “Maybe when your arm is healed, we can venture into the forest one afternoon,” Verica offered by way of an out for the other woman.
    She knew too well how hard it was to disappoint Brigit.
    “A warrior does not allow injury to hold her back from training.” Sabrine was back to appearing as appalled as a nun faced with a loch full of bathing men.
    “You’re not a soldier, silly. You’re a woman.” Brigit giggled.
    Sabrine’s eyes narrowed, as if that truth was not particularly welcome.