“But that doesn’t mean you accept them. Will you strike back to rescue your men?”
Landry looked to Ronan once more, wanting to squirm since he was well beyond his depths in this conversation. He’d hoped to be presented before the king, admit to his clan’s culpability, state that he agreed with Ronan’s demands, then retire to a pub and a willing woman. King Robert kept them waiting for most of the morning, and he’d been grilling Landry for nearly an hour. He wanted to throw up his hands and beg for mercy.
“It is unfortunate that any MacLeod was captured, and I regret that these men are the price of peace. But Laird MacKinnon assures me they are not being abused, and he has given me no reason to doubt his word. I even suspect they are properly fed and given blankets. I cannot, in good conscience, stage another attack to rescue them. It would not bode well for my clan’s survival.”
“You are notably different from your cousins, Landry.” The king sounded bemused.
“I wish to grow auld.”
The simple statement made King Robert guffaw, and Ronan fought to suppress his grin. It was the wish of the young and inexperienced. Ronan intended to do just that with Abigail beside him, but he understood that many lairds didn’t see that wish fulfilled. He would fight to his last breath to live a long life with Abigail, but he accepted there were no guarantees.
“Don’t we all. Don’t we all,” King Robert mused. He turned his focus back to Ronan. “I won’t ask you whether you feel the same, since we both ken wishes are wasted on the young. What I would like to ken is why you’ve resolved this matter so easily when you and Cormag could barely be in the same chamber without drawing blood.”
“I don’t recall ever being the instigator or the aggressor,” Ronan stated.
“You don’t recall. Fine way to say it was Cormag’s fault.” The Bruce crossed his brawny arms, the muscles belying his age and his time spent away from the battlefield. “Young MacLeod looks to you often, as though you might offer him advice. What would you say?”
Haud yer wheest. “We must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger.”
“Another pearl of wisdom from your mother, I suppose. She did well to teach you your scripture.”
“That one came from my father,” Ronan corrected.
“They were a fitting match. Is that a proverb you intend to drill into your mentee?” King Robert watched Ronan and Landry. Only Landry reacted with surprise. As the Bruce had come to expect, Ronan’s expression shared none of his thoughts. The man never spoke without thinking first, and he was always predicting a conversation’s course to have his response at the ready.
“He who has ears, let him hear,” Ronan quoted. The king scowled but nodded his head.
“The way of a fool is right in his own eyes, but a wise mon listens to advice,” King Robert said to Landry, who nodded, his eyes darting between the king and Ronan. “It seems I am not needed for this truce to move forward. But should it dissolve, the survivor will come to bear testimony before me.”
Neither Landry nor Ronan missed King Robert looking at Ronan. Landry once again wanted to squirm, uneasy that the Bruce already assumed Ronan would defeat him. He knew it was the most likely outcome, but he wished his sovereign had faith in him. He supposed only time would tell, but he had no wish to fail. He’d accepted the MacKinnons’ victory and knew he’d do well to watch and learn because, inevitably, the truce would fail at some point. It would prepare him to face the MacKinnons. Ronan narrowed his eyes as he looked at Landry, and the young laird suspected Ronan could read his thoughts.
“MacKinnon, you’ve grown impatient. I assume you’re eager to find your wife.” King Robert sighed when Ronan gave no reply. “Lady MacKinnon should be readying for the evening meal. Go to her before you begin pacing and wear a hole in the bricks. MacLeod, we are finished.” The king sighed again when Ronan bowed, but Landry did not. “That means you are dismissed, lad.”
The two lairds left the Privy Council chamber in silence, but once they were in the passageway, Ronan stepped in front of Landry and turned to him. “I am not your tutor, but I will advise you as you request. I said as much at Dun Ringill. I ken you think to listen and learn to prepare for when you must strike out against me. I will never teach you all that I ken. There will always be something more. Underestimate me as your cousins did, and you will lie beside them. Cross me, and I will grind your clan under my boot and claim Dunvegan as mine.” Ronan spun on his heel, not waiting for Landry to reply. As he turned the corner, he glanced back at Landry, who stood watching him. His expression gave none of his thoughts away. Ronan couldn’t decide if Landry was learning, or if the man was a far better politician than Ronan assumed. He would remain wary of the MacLeods of Skye.
* * *
“How do you fare, Abby?” Ronan whispered as Abigail walked beside him to the evening meal.
“Tired, but I’m well.” Abigail paused outside the doors. They were the same ones she’d entered the night Ronan told her he wanted to court her. They were the same ones that she’d believed he would pass through moments after her. They were the same ones she’d watched throughout the first course, only to be disappointed.
“I’m walking through them with you,” Ronan stated, his heart filling as Abigail beamed up at him. He moved them to the side, allowing others to pass. “I’m a different mon from the last time I was here. I would have avoided the noise and small talk at all costs. But now I don’t notice them. I’m still not inclined to talk needlessly, but I can tolerate them with you by my side.”
“I’m not partial to it either, but sitting beside you is far better company than any of the ladies. You put me at ease, Ronan. I feel comfortable and confident when I’m with you.”
“You do the same for me, Abby. I can face aught in this world when I ken you’re there. You’re surely an angel sent down to save me from myself.”
“Would that we could skip this meal altogether and return to our chamber. I would prefer feasting on you,” Abigail said before licking her lips then tugging her lower lip between her teeth.
“Do that again, and I’m carrying you back to our chamber over my shoulder,” Ronan said, his voice husky. It sent a shiver along Abigail’s spine.
“Do you promise?”
Ronan growled as he led Abigail into an alcove. Hands yanked to move clothing aside before Ronan sank into Abigail, their sighs blending. “Abby,” Ronan groaned.
“I ken.” They moved together until release swept through them, leaving them depleted and clinging to one another. They kissed as they straightened their clothes.
“I think I’ve been an apt student,” Ronan chuckled.
