“But that wasn’t so with Cormag.”
“Kieran and I never viewed Cormag as family. A very distant relative, but not family. The Sutherlands and Grants are family.” Abigail referred to Maude’s family and her sister Madeline’s family-by-marriage.
“Right you are, Lady MacKinnon.” Queen Elizabeth sat back in her ornately carved chair while Abigail continued to stand. Her back ached, and she wanted to rub it but didn’t dare. “I see the Dunbar sisters are eager to visit with you. I’m certain there is time now before the evening meal.”
Abigail dipped into a curtsy before turning toward Emelie and Blythe Dunbar. They made space for her and offered her the chair between them. Abigail chatted with them until the bell rang for the evening meal. She enjoyed conversing with her former fellow ladies-in-waiting. But she was eager to learn what happened while Ronan and Landry met with the king. She also wanted to let Ronan know that the queen was fishing for information.
* * *
“Your Majesty, while I cannot excuse my relatives’ actions or their choices, I strive to improve relations between my clan and the MacKinnons. I do not subscribe to my cousin’s beliefs,” Landry said with a confident tone despite glancing at Ronan. He and Landry stood before King Robert in the sovereign’s Privy Council chamber. Ronan stood silently while the king addressed Landry. A tinge of sympathy pulled at his heart as he watched Landry and remembered the first time the king summoned him to stand before him and account for his clan’s decisions.
“And what do you subscribe to, Laird MacLeod?” King Robert wore a speculative expression as he watched the young man.
“Peaceful coexistence, Your Majesty. It is what’s best for my clan as we recover from our losses.”
“And once you are recovered, you intend to revert to your previous contentious relationship.”
Landry shot Ronan a nervous glance, but Ronan kept his focus on the Bruce. Ronan clasped his hands behind his back as he stood tall, his shoulders back, his expansive chest an imposing sight. He would only answer the king’s questions, volunteering enough information to represent his clan’s expectations and role in the events. Before Landry departed Dun Ringill, Ronan’s first lesson to Landry was not to be too eager to speak before King Robert. As Ronan listened, he knew Landry had already forgotten what he’d learned. He’d been too eager to answer the Bruce’s questions, volunteering too much information too early on, and now the king was backing him into a corner.
“Those are not my intentions, Your Majesty,” Landry backpedaled. “I intend to keep the peace.”
“The path to hell is paved with good intentions, Laird MacLeod. What will you do when your council and clansmen are braying at the moon for blood?”
“Laird MacKinnon and I have brokered a truce that should keep either clan from wanting any bloodletting.”
“And just like that, a conversation between a novice laird and an experienced laird has brokered a truce between clans at war for generations. To both clans’ satisfaction.”
“I—we—I can live with the terms,” Landry stammered.
“For how long?”
Ronan watched beads of sweat form along Landry’s temples before they trickled past his ears to his chin, where they dangled for a moment before slipping onto his neck. The young man’s discomfort both amused him and pricked at his conscience. Once Landry disabused himself of his bravado, he’d proven to be surprisingly levelheaded and cooperative. In the fortnight before he and Abigail embarked upon their journey to Stirling, the horses and two hundred pounds sterling arrived without argument. Ronan continued to house the MacLeods in his dungeon, unwilling to release them until Landry proved himself trustworthy for a prolonged amount of time.
“Until circumstances decide otherwise,” Landry responded.
“So you expect Laird MacKinnon to be the aggressor, to be the dishonorable one.”
“N-n-nay, Your Majesty.” Landry looked to Ronan. “That’s not what I meant at all. I—I…” Landry trailed off, finally realizing that silence was a better tack than trying to justify himself. King Robert waited, but Landry said no more.
“MacKinnon, what say you?”
“I believe everything has already been said.”
“Taciturn as always.”
“No need to repeat what we just heard,” Ronan hedged with a shrug. “The MacLeod and I have come to an agreement between us with terms I accept.”
“Terms you likely set,” King Robert grumbled.
“We’ve agreed,” Ronan reiterated.
“But you still have MacLeods languishing in your dungeon.”
“Those were part of the terms.”
“And you accepted them, MacLeod?”
“I understand Laird MacKinnon’s rationale.”
