“If not MacLeish, who else would set the blaze?”
“I dinnae have a clue. Hush your talk for a wee spell. I need to think.”
They rode on in silence. Another hour and they’d be at the remains of the old hall. What would he do if Duff MacLeish denied having any part in the fire?
He’d need to make a decision. Believe Duff and accept that he was no longer master of his own lands, open to attack whenever any stranger felt like it. Or start a clan war he didn’t want. Neither option felt great. Trust your own feelings,” she’d said. He glanced up at the darkening sky over his head. And look up sometime.
It was times like this he wished his father were still around. The burden of being laird weighed heaviest in these most difficult moments. Make the wrong choice and many of his people would suffer needlessly.
They rode in silence, the only sound that of hooves upon the damp ground. Behind them the sun dipped slowly out of sight below the horizon. In the last of the light Andrew caught sight of the remains of the old hall in front of them.
Duff MacLeish was already there, waiting with six of his men, all on horseback, none smiling. Andrew rode steadily toward him. It was time to get some answers.
