The boat trip up from MacLean lands to the firth had been the worse. He couldn’t find a place to himself. Semias was always at his side, telling him every detail of Clan Gordon. Lachlan had thought of throwing the auld man into the loch. That seemed rude. Instead, Lachlan aimed his gaze on the scenery and made grunting sounds of agreement. He was starting to regret being Laird.“Do you remember anything about your time here?”“Nay.”Semias frowned, drawing down the leathery skin of his face. A suspicion nagged at Lachlan. Semias appeared wounded at his lack of memory. Truth was he did everything within his power to forget that place and that life.“Perhaps when I arrive at the castle some might return.” What? For some tender and useless reason, Lachlan felt as if he owed the man, to protect his feelings. He shook his head.“What can you tell me?” He motioned with a wave of his hand to the land.“You know nothing about your—the clan?”“I know I was not welcomed.”“Have you not kept up with the clan news?”“Semias, I heard, of course, but I never bothered to listen, so why don’t you tell me.”He nodded.
