“Put your slippers on, lass. You’ll catch a chill.”

Jillian glared at him.

Quinn moved to her side and offered his arm for her to lean on while she donned her slippers. “He’s right. The stones are cold, lass. As to the why of it, your da summoned us to look after Caithness in his absence, Jillian.”

“Really?” Jillian said sweetly, adding “liar” to the list of nasty names she was calling men in the privacy of her thoughts. She stuffed one foot in a slipper, then the next. She doubted Grimm would care if she died of a chill. Put your slippers on, he ordered, as if she were an unruly toddler who couldn’t complete the simple task of dressing herself. “Is there trouble expected in these parts of the Lowlands?”

“It’s better to be safe than sorry, lass.” Ramsay offered the platitude with his most charming smile.

Safe, my arse, she thought mulishly. Safe certainly wasn’t this, surrounded by circling warriors who were inflamed by the mere scent of a woman.

“Your da didn’t wish to take the chance trouble might befall Caithness in his absence, and now seeing you, lass, I understand his concern,” Ramsay added smoothly. “I’d select only the finest to protect you too.”

“I’m all the protection she needs, Logan,” Quinn said dryly. He took her by the hand and led her to the table. “Bring breakfast for the lady,” he instructed a maid.

“Protection from what?” Jillian asked.

“From yourself, most likely.” Grimm’s voice was low but still carried clearly in the stone hall.

“What did you just say?” Jillian whirled around in her seat. Any excuse for an argument with him was a welcome excuse.

“I said protection from yourself, brat.” Grimm met her gaze with a heated one of his own. “You’re forever walking into danger. Like when you wandered off with the tinkers. We couldn’t find you for two days.”

Quinn laughed. “By Odin’s spear, I’d forgotten about that. We were nearly mad with worry. I finally found you north of Dunrieffe—”

“I would have found her if you hadn’t insisted I go south, Quinn. I told you they’d gone north,” Grimm reminded him.

Quinn glanced sideways at Grimm. “Hell’s bells, man, don’t brood about it. She was found, and that’s all that matters.”

“I wasn’t lost to begin with,” Jillian informed them. “I knew exactly where I was.”

The men laughed.

“And I am not always getting into danger. I just wanted to feel the freedom of the tinkers. I was old enough—”

“You were thirteen!” Grimm snapped.

“I was fully in control of myself!”

“You were misbehaving as usual,” Quinn teased.

“Jillian never misbehaves,” Kaley murmured as she entered the room and caught the last of the conversation. She placed a steaming platter of sausage and potatoes in front of Jillian.

“A shame, if it’s true,” Ramsay purred.

“Then there was the time she got stuck in the pigpen. Remember that one, Grimm?” Quinn laughed, and even Grimm couldn’t begrudge him a smile. “Remember how she looked, backed into the corner, jabbering away to the enraged mama pig?” Quinn snorted. “I swear Jillian was squealing louder than the sow was.”

Jillian leapt to her feet. “That’s quite enough. And quit smiling, Kaley.”

“I’d forgotten that one myself, Jillian.” Kaley chuckled. “You were a handful.”

Jillian grimaced. “I’m not a child anymore. I’m twenty-one years old—”

“And why is it that you haven’t wed, lass?” Ramsay wondered aloud.

Silence descended as all eyes, including several curious maids’, focused on Jillian. She stiffened, mortification staining her cheeks with a flush of pink. By the saints, these men held nothing back. Not one of her past suitors would have dared such a direct frontal attack, but these men, she reminded herself grimly, weren’t like any men she’d ever known before. Even Grimm and Quinn were unknown variables; they’d become dangerously unpredictable.

“Well, why haven’t you?” Quinn said softly. “You’re beautiful, witty, and well landed. Where are all your suitors, lass?”

Where, indeed? Jillian mused.

Grimm turned from the fire slowly. “Yes, Jillian, tell us. Why haven’t you wed?”

Jillian’s eyes flew to his. For a long moment she was unable to free herself from the snare of his gaze and the strange emotions it incited in her. With an immense effort of will, she averted her gaze. “Because I’m joining the cloister. Didn’t Da tell you?” she said cheerfully. “That’s probably why he brought you all here, to escort me safely to the Sisters of Gethsemane come fall.” She studiously ignored Kaley’s reproachful look and plunked down in her seat, attacking her breakfast with newly discovered relish. Let them chew on that. If they wouldn’t admit the truth, why should she?