“Mayhap not by blood, but there must be since she didn’t run me through,” Ronan attempted to jest. He relaxed for a heartbeat when King Robert laughed.
“Underestimate none of the ladies at court, particularly my wife’s attendants. They are a spirited lot, and most are braver than any mon I ken.” King Robert sobered and narrowed his eyes before continuing. “And how did Lady Abigail react to learning you are Laird MacKinnon?”
“Lady Abigail recognized my plaid and already knew I was a MacKinnon. It may have surprised her to learn I am the laird.”
“Surprised?” King Robert pretended bewilderment, but Ronan understood that the Bruce was using Abigail as an excuse to assess what he’d surely already heard about Ronan.
“My mother raised me to ken children are to be seen and not heard. As an adult, I’ve realized that such an approach allows one to learn far more than by monopolizing a conversation.”
“And what have you learned since arriving at Stirling?” the king asked. Ronan was prepared for the question.
“I’ve learned that I prefer sea air, Your Majesty,” Ronan said with a straight face. King Robert guffawed and nodded his head.
“I shall think you’re being diplomatic. Tell me, have you seen aught of particular interest to you while in Stirling?”
“Aye. But I keep getting lost, so I never find the same mural twice,” Ronan answered. King Robert blinked owlishly before he recovered and chortled.
“Laird MacKinnon, your mother did a fine job raising you. Just bear in mind that some people don’t care for evasiveness,” King Robert warned. Ronan nodded. “Do you know why I’ve summoned you?”
“Not with certainty, Your Majesty. But I suspect it has to do with the climate on Skye,” Ronan hedged.
“That is why I requested your presence. But there is more to it than recounting how many sheep the MacLeods and MacDonalds raided from you this year.” King Robert waited to see if Ronan would respond. When the young laird remained quiet, King Robert sighed. “Yours is an ancient clan, but your territory is not ideally located. The MacLeods dominate both Skye and Lewis, while the MacDonalds gain more influence throughout the Hebrides. Both clans want dominion over the outer islands, and you are trapped between them. The MacLeods would set you adrift while John of Islay would drink and eat you out of house and home, then claim it for himself.”
Once more, King Robert waited for Ronan to speak, hoping the man would offer his opinion. But the Bruce understood Ronan was hesitant to overshare or overstep the rules of decorum. He rose from this throne and gestured for Ronan to join him before the fire. There were two chairs placed at the hearth, and Ronan waited until the king sat before taking his seat.
“You may speak freely, Ronan. I am not trying to corner you or trick you,” King Robert kept his voice low. “You need to secure your clan’s position on the isle.”
“You wish me to marry,” Ronan stated.
“That would be the most ideal method to recruit new allies,” Robert nodded.
“Who do you intend for me to wed?” Ronan came straight to the point, but an image of Abigail flittered through his mind. It relieved him to watch the king shake his head.
“There are many eligible ladies here at court, or you can pursue other daughters and sisters if there is a clan you prefer,” King Robert offered.
“When do you expect my decision, Your Majesty?” Ronan held his breath.
“After Epiphany. That gives you a little more than a moon,” King Robert answered.
To find the woman I’m to spend the rest of ma life with. Bluidy hell. If there were a woman I kenned of that I wanted to shackle maself to, I would have already inquired or done it. Doesnae leave any time to get to ken the lass. She may show up on the steps of ma keep, or me on hers, and have the wedding that vera day. I canna even stay here that much longer. If I dinna leave soon, I’ll likely be snowed in here. I amnae spending Christmas among people I dinna ken.
“I’ll begin thinking of possibilities immediately, Your Majesty. When I’ve secured a betrothal, I’ll be sure to inform you.” Ronan prepared for the king to dismiss him, but King Robert held up his hand.
“It’s not that simple. You will inform me of your choice, and I will decide whether to grant you permission. The situation is too tenuous to create an alliance that will only inflame things on Skye and within the Hebrides. John of Islay may be a loyal servant, but he can be worse than a rotting tooth awaiting the blacksmith’s tongs. I know he wanted to be King of the Isles. That’s no secret. I fear he will attempt to gain control of all the islands. I can’t afford that. I need at least Skye or Lewis to remain free of his control.”
“Aye, Your Majesty. I will bear that in mind while I consider my options,” Ronan conceded. King Robert dismissed Ronan, and he didn’t dawdle as he left.
Five
“My laird,” a young page came to stand beside Ronan as he collected his belongings near the lists. “His Majesty wishes to see you.”
“Now?” Ronan looked down at the mud that had splattered on his leine and caked on his legs and boots. He was in no condition for an audience with the king, and it had been less than a sennight since King Robert made his decree that Ronan should marry. He’d spent more than a fortnight observing the women at court with the intent of approaching them. But each time he considered one of the younger maidens, she would do something to grate on his nerves. A shrill laugh would set his teeth on edge. He listened to their inane conversations about clothes, their gossip about various lovers, and their estimations of various men’s worth—in coin and in bed. This all served to alienate him from the younger women.
Several matrons—married and widowed—approached Ronan, but it was always an offer for a tryst. He wasn’t interested in that or bringing any of these women home to his clan. The only woman who continued to draw his attention and didn’t make him want to ride away was Abigail, but he didn’t approach her considering the way the younger women gossiped about one another. He wished to keep himself and Abigail free of the unwanted attention and comments.
“Without delay, my laird.” The page scampered away before Ronan could say anything else. Ronan spotted two of his men and said a prayer of thanksgiving that they were similar in size to him. He signaled to them and explained that he needed to borrow a fresh leine and plaid. He followed them to the barracks and quickly scrubbed away as much dirt as he could, making himself barely presentable. He hurried through the passageways, finally remembering the way.
Now what? What did I say the other day that has him summoning me back? Did I say aught I shouldnae have? Did I let something slip that I didna realize? If all were fine, why would he want me back? Think before ye speak, Ronan. Dinna make a fool of yerself. Take a deep breath, calm down, and dinna be an arse.
