13
Down the hill, by the edge of the thick grove of trees that ran the length of the glen, Allan was supervising the butchering of the buck and the two does they had taken. Leaning on his hunting lance and holding his steed’s reins, Gavin looked on vacantly as the steward tossed scraps of the kill to the waiting dogs.
Joanna MacInnes had lost her mind. How could she not? he mused, thinking back on their meeting, and on her parting words prior to disappearing from his bedchamber as the dawn threatened.
It was certainly understandable that a young woman would be distraught and overwrought with grief after such a tragedy. But to live as she had been living for the past six months. The loss of her parents in such a fire—under such circumstances—could easily have tipped the balance of anyone
