“Dearg tells me ye collected a waif and stray on yer journey,” the Laird said just as Dearg took his place in the chair opposite Erskine.
“Did he now?” Erskine lifted his eyes to Dearg, trying to judge exactly what his brother had revealed. Dearg sat there with a smile on his face.
“Aye, young lad,” Dearg said loudly with clear amusement in his voice, “Erskine seemed to take a great likin’ to him indeed.”
“Well, I am pleased to hear ye saw someone in need and helped them out, Erskine,” their father nodded before gesturing down to the plates. “Come on, eat up before it goes cold. What do you ken of the young lad ye found?”
“Well—” Erskine was about to answer with some thin lies when Dearg jumped in and interrupted him.
“I think Erskine kens the ladvery wellindeed now. I’m sure he could tell ye a lot about the boy.” The tone of Dearg’s voice was not lost in the room.
Erskine leveled a heavy glare at his brother, just as Laird MacCallum looked up from his plate and rested his cutlery down on the pewter with a heavy chink.
“Dearg, what do ye mean?” their father asked.
“Dearg, leave it,” Erskine warned, but Dearg looked far too happy to leave the matter at that.
“I merely wish to convey a word of warnin’, faither,” he turned his attention fully on the Laird. “It seems me brother may prefer the company of men to women these days. Think what it would do for the clan’s reputation if that piece of information got out.”
Erskine could not sit still, not after being so insulted in such a foul fashion. He jumped to his feet instantly, sending the chair behind him down to the floor with an almighty clatter.
“How dare ye!?” He was already rounding the table before any amount of logic or reasoning could stop him. He just saw red and a need to exact revenge for Dearg’s words.
He would threaten to destroy me reputation in front of our faither in such a way? That tadger!
“I am merely sayin’ what I saw with me own eyes, brother,” Dearg said, holding his hands up in defense as he too leaped to his feet, but he could not escape quickly enough.
Erskine was in front of him, both hands on the scruff of Dearg’s shirt and pulling him up, preparing for a fight.
“Lads!” Laird MacCallum’s voice was drowned by their sudden argument, tossed between them with foul and bitter words.
“Saw what? That I looked after a lad who needed help?” Erskine’s voice was seething.
“Ye seemed to do more than that to me,” Dearg was trying to disentangle himself, but Erskine wouldn’t let him. He was fully tempted to strike Dearg again. The only thing stopping him was Laird MacCallum watching them.
“Oh, boil yer head! Ye’re talkin’ twaddle,” Erskine snapped and shoved his brother away.
“Am I?” Dearg laughed. “I can testify to more eyes than just me own.”
“Ye are just angry that everyone in our group liked Billie more than ye by the end of our journey,” Erskine tossed the words into the air, only realizing a beat later how accurate they really were.
“I am hardly worried about that. I’m worried for the clan. How do ye think our allies will react when they find out the Laird-to-be willnae marry and produce an heir because he is busyin’ himself with a young lad instead—”
“Ye little—” Erskine marched toward him again, too angry to even consider restraint.
“That is enough!” their father’s voice roared, echoing through the dining chamber and forcing both their feet to stand still.
Erskine was breathing heavily and could feel his face was red as he leveled his gaze at Dearg, reluctant to look away.
“I willnae have ye two squabblin’ like a pair of children,” the Laird was on his feet. Erskine could hear the chair sliding backward though he kept his death glare on his brother.
“That is nae what we are doin’,” Dearg complained, attempting a serious tone. “I just think it is important ye ken the truth about me brother here.”
Ye bastard!
Now was not the right time to tell the Laird of Laura’s true identity. Erskine knew if he came out with it now, as tempted as he was, it could put an end to Dearg’s teasing, but it would then be revealed how Laura had snuck her way into their group. Erskine couldn’t do it. Hearing of it in such a way would no doubt only make their father’s anger worse.
“What truth? Ye are talkin’ claptrap,” Erskine spat, just as Laird MacCallum came and stood between the two of them, blocking Erskine’s view of Dearg.
