Page 38 of Highland Spy

Storm was their chieftain and had a lot of remarkable feats under his belt, but didn’t like to have anyone outshine him. Caleb didn’t know what the king was talking about, but whatever Bridget must have written about him surely caught his attention.

“Read it for yerself,” said the king, handing Storm the book.

Storm took the book and glanced down at the pages.

“Out loud,” added the king.

Storm cleared his throat and the room became silent, wanting to hear the words written in the Highland Chronicles that had the king acting so excited.

“Caleb MacKeefe is by far the hero of the MacKeefe Clan,” read Storm, furrowing his brow. “He risked his life, swimmin’ against the current and fightin’ off the creatures of the river when Bridget Ogilvy almost drowned. If is wasna for him, the angry waters would have consumed her, takin’ her breath and her life on this earth would be ended right now.” Storm looked up at Caleb. “Creatures? In the river?” he asked.

Caleb started feeling very embarrassed, and didn’t answer.

“Keep readin’,” said the king. “I want to hear the part about his skills with archery and the caber toss again.”

“What?” asked Caleb, shocked to hear this. Storm was the champion of the caber toss, and Caleb, being one of the smaller men of the clan, often had a hard time just lifting the blamed thing, let alone tossing it end over end.

“Caleb can toss a caber like a giant from the Greek myths,” continued Storm, looking like he couldn’t believe what he was reading. Actually, Caleb couldn’t believe it either. “His aim with a bow and arrow can only be compared to that of Eros, the god of love, since watchin’ him use the weapon will cause any lassie to fall deeply under his spell.” Storm scowled and shook his head. “What the hell is this all about?”

“Give me the book,” said the king, snatching it away from Storm. “Ye are obviously jealous, MacKeefe, and canna read my chronicler’s words without it showin’ in yer voice.”

“I assure ye, Sire, I am no’ jealous of Caleb MacKeefe in any way or form,” Storm told him.

The king looked down to the book and read aloud. “Caleb has the speed of a dozen horses when he runs, and the stealth of ten of his pine martens when it comes to intellect. He is wise beyond his years. His unselfish attitude makes his actions often go unnoticed. However, he is the true underlyin’ spirit of the MacKeefe Clan and the strength by which the clan depends on to make the MacKeefes such a lovin’, givin’, close-knit family.”

“Aye, that’s Caleb,” called out his mother.

“He’s my son,” shouted his father.

These actions were too much and if Caleb had to stand here another minute and listen to any more of the unsung praises that Bridget wrote about him, he was sure he was going to die.

“Yer Majesty, I really dinna want to be the cause of a cold meal,” said Caleb.

“Och!” The king slammed shut the book and handed it to Caleb over the edge of the dais. “There ye go again, thinkin’ of others before yerself, even when yer king is praisin’ ye. I like that, Caleb MacKeefe. I like that a lot. I think all of the clans here today could take a lesson from the likes of ye.”

“Thank ye, Sire,” said Caleb, bowing and backing away. His parents beamed with pride from one end of the room, while Storm and the rest of the lairds on the dais shot him daggers from their eyes, looking like they wanted to kill him. Logan, seated behind him, tried hard to hold back his laugh.

“Minstrels, I want music with my meal,” called out the king, clapping his hands in the air. “Everyone, we drink to Caleb MacKeefe, the true unsung hero of the MacKeefes.” He raised his goblet high. No one really wanted to acknowledge the king’s praises for Caleb, but since he was the king, they didn’t refuse.

“To . . . Caleb,” said Storm, almost choking on the words as he slowly raised his cup in the air.

“To Caleb,” the lairds ground out as they reluctantly all raised their goblets to drink to the man the king now held in such high respect.

Thank goodness, the music started playing and the conversations became a dull roar as the food was consumed. Caleb turned around, clutching the Highland Chronicles in one hand and Slink in the other.

“To Caleb, the god of miracles,” said Logan with a chuckle, raising his goblet in front of Caleb’s face.

“Stop it,” ground out Caleb. “I have never been so embarrassed in all my life.”

“Then ye shouldna have written those things in the book,” said Logan nonchalantly, taking a drink of wine.

“I didna!” spat Caleb under his breath. “It was Bridget who did it,” he ground out.

“Bridget wrote those things?” Logan almost choked on his wine.

“Aye, and I swear I am goin’ to wring her neck.” Caleb turned and took off at a sprint for the door. He hurried down to the corridor to Bridget’s chamber, fuming. She’d really done it this time, and when he got there, she was going to have hell to pay.

Chapter 13