Flora wrinkled her brow. She knew enough to know that the Duart branch of the clan was descended from an older brother, the Macleans of Coll from a younger. “But he’s right. Duart is the chief branch of the Clan Gillian. It is your duty to bow to him. It’s the Highland way.”
His entire body went rigid. This time, his steely control could not mask his fury. “And you’re an expert on the Highland way? A girl who avoids her kin and her home? Coll has been a barony for over two hundred years. I will not pay himcalps,nor will I send my men to fight his battles. I’m theLairdof Coll, a free baron. A chief in my own right. I don’t owe allegiance or anything else to Hector.”
“So you choose feudal law over the Erse Brehon Law? That is an unusual position for a Highlander to take.”
“Feudalism has been a part of the clans in Scotland for centuries. The Macleans of Coll haven’t considered themselves a part of Clan Gillian for a long time. We are our own clan. It was my father’s position. Now it is mine.”
Pride. Was that what this was about? Her mother’s words of warning came back to her:Never trust a Highlander. They are hard men with tender pride who solve problems with their swords.Was her mother right? Had there been years of feuding and killing because of pride?
“But all of this between you and Hector could be settled if you acknowledged him as chief?”
“It is more complicated than that.”
“But is it? Is the feuding worth it? Hector is one of the most powerful chiefs in the Highlands. With at least four hundred fighting men. You probably don’t have a third of that. It’s foolish to battle him. How can you think to defeat him?”
The muscle in his jaw flexed, signaling a warning. She was treading a dangerous path. “Have care who you call a fool, lass. You don’t know what you speak of.”
Her temper flared. “Perhaps not, but I can see the toll it has taken on your clan.” Her gaze swept the hall, this time ignoring the warmth of the revelers and lingering on the crude furnishings and lack of ornamentation. “Take a look around. Your clan is suffering. If you weren’t so busy fighting Hector, perhaps your sisters could be at court.”
His withdrawal was swift, his expression icy. Her words had struck a blow, one that she hadn’t intended. Too late, she realized how she must sound. Criticism to a proud man who’d had to fight since he was a lad for survival. But she’d been thinking only of his sisters—and the poverty of his clan. If Lachlan Maclean had a weakness, it was his pride. But perhaps, she admitted, it was well earned.
She put her hand on his arm, feeling the tension, the rigid muscle pulled tight as steel. “I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn. I did not mean to anger you.”
His blue gaze turned flinty. “Then don’t speak of matters you do not understand.”
“I only wanted to help.”
“You will.”
The coldness of his reply stung. As did the forced reminder of her presence at Drimnin. Her spine straightened. “By helping you get your castle back?” she asked bitterly.
He hesitated, leaving her feeling that there was something more. “Yes.”
“But why me? Didn’t you appeal to the king for help?”
His face was like granite. “I did. Through his Lowland toad—” He stopped. “His privy councillors.”
“Surely Hector has no valid claim to Coll—its castle or its lands.”
“No legal claim whatsoever. I took sasine to my lands many years ago, receiving the symbolic earth and stone.”
“Then the king has done something about it?”
His eyes were flat. “He has.”
Flora was relieved. King James would see justice done. “Then perhaps you will not have need of me after all?”
He held her gaze. “I need you, my sweet. Make no mistake of that.”
Chapter 6
Early the next morning, Lachlan strode purposefully across the courtyard toward the small garden on the south side of thebarmkin. The promise of spring hung in the salty sea air, a natural foil for his wintry mood. He was vaguely aware of the bright sun and cloudless sky, but not even the promise of an unusually warm day could douse the fires of his discontent. He needed to find Seonaid before beginning his training. What he had to do couldn’t wait.
He’d spent a restless night. But not solely for the reason he’d anticipated—though it was asinine how his body could ache for a lass who so infuriated him.
He knew better than anyone the toll the feuding had taken on his clan. He didn’t need it pointed out by a naïve chit who’d never gone hungry a day in her life. Yes, pride and the honor of his clan were at stake in his battle with Hector, but so was the very preservation of his clan. If Lachlan accepted Hector as his chief, Hector would drive them into the ground with his feud with the MacDonalds. Lachlan would be duty bound to send his men to fight for Hector. Hector could call on them at will. And he was unrelenting. He’d been feuding with the MacDonalds for years.
Lachlan was protecting his clan the only way he could. He wanted the fighting with Hector done more than anyone.
