The sheriff of Rowan Fell sat down to a midday feast of roasted duck. He inhaled deeply of the scent of the rich gravy and smiled with approval at his wife, Jeannie. She knew it was his favorite and raised the birds specifically to prepare this meal at regular intervals.
He surveyed the table, set with their two prized pewter plates, giving the moment its due appreciation. Life was good for them since the death of Robert Armstrong and he prayed as he often did that there might never be another Laird of Kilderrick.
The situation suited him well as it stood.
Eamon carved the meat with care, having sharpened his knife earlier for the task. He stole a piece of the crackling and Jeannie giggled at the way he rolled his eyes in pleasure. He laid a perfectly roasted breast on his plate and a l
