HIGHLAND SONG BWWM

Chapter Eighteen

Author: Phew...so happy I got this done today, since I've reviews to do today, I wanted to hit the big three...vote, comment and enjoy!!! most importantly enjoy!! Does anyone else wish they had emoji's you could add to comments, and author notes?

Chapter Eighteen

The eldest of the Sinclair children stepped forward; they had washed in preparation for bed. She bowed her head and spoke, though, of course, both Lyla and Ericka didn't understand a lick of it.

The other children eagerly stood from their pallet and started speaking as well.

"Enough, enough," Morag cut in, her voice gruff, yet amusement colored her tone. She leaned back in the chair she'd taken that the two women had moved over to the hearth. "The brat is wanting to thank ye, Lass."

Lyla, whose hands were working to mend one of the many shirts, smiled, not bothering to look up. "That's all right." She lifted her smile and winked at the eldest. "Tell Mina it's a pleasure to have been the giver of their names."

Morag did and harrumphed when the girl said something. "The girl be wanting to learn Sassenach tongue." She crossed her arms. "No' any use for it, if you were asking me."

"Well, if she's going to learn English, she can teach us Gaelic," Ericka suggested. She was sitting on the edge of their bed, rocking the youngest girl in her arms back and forth. "It would be useful to not have to wait for a translator every time we want something."

They all continued this noncommittal chatter until the children had all laid down and the fire had dimmed. Morag stood. "Whelp, best be resting these old bones."

"Morag..." The old woman turned and looked at the young sister, who was putting away some items into a bag. "Is... Alec," She paused, biting her lips and avoiding Morag's knowing gaze. "Is Alec seeing anyone?"

Morag silently observed the youngest and frowned. When had the gal developed a liking for the laird's right-hand? She wondered when these two sisters would meet the other women of their clan. She knew that Alec had a lass sweet on him. The gal's name was... she tried to recall, squinting her eyes. Ah, Heather. The gal's name was Heather, but the chit hung around with the women who didn't like the laird all that much.

So, Morag said, "Nae, Lass, he's one of them who sleeps under the stars. Why? Are ye sweet on him?"

The girl flinched, as if she'd been pinched, and lowered her head and shook it. "N-no, I-I was just curious, that's all."

"Aye, curious," Morag drawled. Eventually, she said her goodnight and left the young woman to brood.

The next morning, Lyla was excited. Why? Because she and her team of eager children and her sister were going to finally tackle the keep. It was a daunting task, but she'd ordered everyone to eat a good breakfast after the men had come to the Great Hall and left.

The two youngest, Elspeth and Bryce, were going to help Morag in the kitchen to reorganize the pantry and move spices to the large rack that Lyla had convinced one of the men to make.

Lifting a duster up high, she shouted, "Let's go!" Her eyes gleamed with a dangerous light, as she led her troops of terrifying cleaners through the hallways, slapping away cobwebs and opening rooms that seemed to have been closed for a century.

Dust choked her as she forced windows open, the light from the just-rising sun giving shine to the small pieces of dust that floated in the air. Waving a hand, Lyla turned and motioned for the twins, Rose and Lily, to shed the top bed cloth off. The two after her insistence had grabbed small square cloths and wrapped it around their noses and mouths, making them appear to look like bandits.