They had been in situ for more than a week now and so far, pigs, venison and grouse had been slaughtered in their dozens. The pantry stores of cheese had been wiped out and she was forced to serve up parritch for dinner.
And then there was the whisky they used to slake their thirst. In gallons.
Would these greedy, gluttonous fools ever be gone?
In a neglected corner of the castle, Laoghaire’s unsaid question found its answer. Knifes sharpened, orders whispered.
The Campbells were moving out.