As the Laird of Clan MacPherson, only her father could formally proclaim a truce on behalf of the clan. More than once, she had heard her brother attempting to convince him to put an end to the conflict.
Her thoughts turned mournful, the grief in her heart rising as she continued to think of her brother.
If Faither wasnae so incredibly stubborn, perhaps Broderic would still be alive!
Lost in thought, she didn’t hear her father approach the study.
The large wooden door opened, and Chester’s expression morphed from surprise to anger upon seeing Helena standing at the desk, his half-written letter still in her hands.
“What are ye doin’ here?” he demanded.
“Faither, me apologies.” She dropped the letter back on the desk and scrambled to put the rest back in order, nearly toppling the inkpot in her haste.
“I… I…” she stammered, looking around hastily for some plausible reason to be in his study. “I was lookin’ for Maither’s copy ofAne Godlie Dreame,for Aunt Sophia. I didnae mean to intrude—me curiosity got the better of me.”
“Sure ye were, lass,” he drawled.
He moved to stand beside her, grasping her arm firmly. He squinted his hollow and dark eyes, tilting his head to study her.
“What were ye truly doin’ in here?” he demanded.
“I did come in here for the book, Faither. I swear it. I just… I… got distracted. Mags jumped up on the desk, and I saw the letters and started readin’ them. I’m sorry. I didnae mean to pry.”
She tried to twist her arm out of his grip, but he didn’t release her. He only gripped her arm tighter.
“Ye lasses, always so nosy, always meddlin’ in things that dinnae concern ye!” he shouted, his anger clear on his face. “Tsk, lass, ye need to keep to yer own. Worry about yer sewing and womanly pursuits. Leave clan matters to the men. Yer maither had the same sickness—she couldnae leave things well enough alone.”
He pushed her away from the desk and let go of her arm, before striding to a trunk at the back of the room. He paused for a moment, taking a steadying breath before opening it and pulling out a book.
“I put yer maither’s things in the trunk with yer braither’s and cousin’s. I couldnae bear to look at them any longer.” He thumbed the spine of the book, his eyes glazing over as if lost in a memory.
“Ye miss her, do ye nae?” Helena asked softly.
Her voice jarred him out of his wandering thoughts.
“It doesnae matter.” He returned to the desk beside her and thrust the book into her hands. “Now, get out of me study.”
Mags chose that moment to renew his efforts, jumping up on the desk again and loudly meowing for attention.
“Ye too, scraggly cat. Get out.” Chester threw a book on the desk, and thethudstartled the cat.
Mags’s hackles rose. With a hiss, he sprinted out of the room, his bottle brush tail vanishing from sight within a matter of seconds.
“Thank ye,” Helena said quietly, taking the book from her father and picking the candelabra up, intending to leave. Halfway to the door, she stopped, unable to resist asking, “Why nae accept a truce with Laird MacAllister? He was askin’ for a truce before Broderic and Ian died. Why didnae ye sign it and agree?”
“Get out! Now! I told ye to leave clan matters to the men! Get out!” Chester bellowed. “Ye are as bad as yer maither, always wantin’ to meddle in things. Look at where that got her! Look at where it got yer braither and yer cousin. Perhaps if they hadnae gone against me orders and hadnae sought out the Laird, they would still be alive.”
He cannae truly mean that.
Helena sucked in a quiet breath, appalled by his harsh statement.
“Nay! Faither, listen to me, please!” she pleaded, trying to make him see reason.
Her brother and cousin had died in vain. The rest of the clan could not suffer the same fate because of her father’s twisted vendetta.
“Enough blood has been shed because of this war. Please, just sign a treaty with him. Call a truce by whatever means necessary,I beg of ye. Dinnae ye think that enough of our resources have been wasted?”
“I saidnay,lass. Now, get out before I have the men throw ye out.” Her father’s face was red with rage as he pointed to the door.
