“We’ll talk later,” Honora said with a pat to Alyce’s arm.
They began taking their usual seats at the table in front of the hearth and pitchers of hot cider were soon placed in front of them along with a light fare.
Lachlan stood at the end of the bench waiting for his wife to slide in first, his mother already seated at the other end. Alyce acknowledged his gallantry with a simple nod, though her blue eyes told him much more, and he knew his brother was about to deal with not the shrewish Alyce Bunnock, but the imposing Alyce Sinclare.
“Tell me,” Cavan said to Alyce, filling her tankard with hot cider.
Alyce didn’t hesitate. “You will receive Septimus and a few of his men tonight just before sunset.”
“For what reason?” Cavan asked.
“He is a friend of mine and I expect my family to accept him as such.”
“He is a mercenary,” Artair said as a statement of fact.
“And that should matter why?” she asked.
“They are not known for being trustworthy,” Cavan said.
“I say he is,” Alyce argued.
Lachlan remained silent, watching the exchange, enthralled by the liveliness in her eyes. Her resolute nature was one of the things he loved about her.
“There it is,” Lachlan said to Cavan. “You have her word on it; that’s good enough.”
Cavan nodded and before he looked to his mother, she stood.
“I’ll see that food is prepared,” Addie said and hurried to the kitchen.
“So this Septimus came all this way just to visit with you?” Artair asked.
“No,” Alyce said and tore off a piece of black bread. “He came to rescue me.”
“What?” Lachlan said, swerving around to stare at her.
Alyce patted his arm. “Don’t fret. I told him I didn’t need rescuing.”
“That he should even think that you do—”
“You did snap me away from my home,” Alyce said matter-of-factly.
“You’re defending his actions?” Lachlan asked, shaking his head. “I don’t believe it.”
“You’re making something out of nothing,” Alyce said.
“A man arrives at my home and claims he’s there to rescue my wife and I should think nothing of it?” He shook his head so hard that his long hair whipped him in the face. “No!”
“You should be pleased that I have such a concerned friend.”
“You have a husband,” he reminded.
“Who gave me no choice but to go with him.”
Lachlan leaned in close so that his nose was a mere fraction from hers. “I cannot wait to meet Septimus.”
Alyce smiled. “He looks forward to meeting you.” She turned and glanced around to everyone at the table. “I will see you all later; I feel the need to rest.”
“Are you all right?” Lachlan asked worried.
“Just tired,” she said.
Zia was fast to offer advice. “A nap should serve you well.”
“I will see that she rests,” Lachlan said and took hold of his wife’s arm.
“No need,” Alyce said. “Stay and talk with your brothers. I am sure you have much to say to each other. Besides I intend to nap in your bedchamber here in the keep.”
“Good idea,” Lachlan said, relieved that she would remain close by.
Lachlan wasn’t surprised that she pressed her cheek to his before placing a faint kiss on his lips and whispering, later before she walked away. He had the overpowering urge to go after her. However, he was surprised when she stopped and began looking over the display of battle plans made with an assortment of pebbles and stones on the table, two over from theirs.
She started shaking her head. “This would have never worked.”
Cavan turned as did Artair while their wives smiled.
Lachlan walked over to his wife. “You need to rest.”
She brushed him off with a shake of her hand. “Look at this,” she said pointing to a grouping of smaller rocks. “Your assumption of Septimus’s approach is not logical.”
Artair hurried off the bench. “It most certainly is.”
“No, look here,” she said stressing where she pointed. “You assume he would strike from this point because it is the most common attack point, right?”
Artair nodded. “It truly is the only accessible one.”
“No, it isn’t,” she insisted and began moving the stones around, though Artair protested.
“Let her show us,” Cavan ordered.
“Not all battles are fought equally,” she said as she maneuvered the stones. “You must consider your foe and his tactics, or you’ll find yourself in trouble.”
“But you aren’t always familiar with your foe,” Artair objected.