Logan cursed under his breath.
“The men from the ship say they are nay worse than any Highland lad who finds a loose coin,” David went on. “They say they fight for ye, they bleed for ye. They daenae see why the villagers get to look down their noses at them.”
Because they daenae ken ye.Because when they look at ye, they see what I was, not what I am.
But Logan did not voice those thoughts. It was useless to do so. What he needed to do was find a way to keep the men in check, at least until they were ready to leave tomorrow.
“What else?” he asked.
David took a deep breath, like a man bracing for cold water. “I am hearing more folks say that ye are a captain before ye are a laird,” he said. “They say that ye trust the men from the ship more than the men born here. They look at the crew and see the ones who really follow ye. I ken what is really happening. They fear being replaced in their own land. They think ye might drive them away and fill the clan with…”
“With what?”
David swallowed. “Pirates.”
“Ah, I see.”
“‘Tis nae me words, me Laird. ‘Tis only what people think.”
“Something tells me ye are also part of the people, David. ‘Tis understandable if ye are.”
David shuffled his feet, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I was born here, me Laird, and I grew up here. I would hate to see it all go up in flames.”
Logan’s jaw clenched. “And where was this fear when I was battling MacTavish men for the village? When I was getting wounded left and right. For the love of God, I still carry wounds that have yet to heal.”
“I ken,” David said quietly. “But fear doesnae listen to sense. It listens to what it sees. Right now, it sees two worlds. The shipand the castle. The men from one step into the other, take what they like, and leave again. Since ye have clearly shown which one ye are more loyal to, can ye blame them for having doubts?”
Logan looked past him toward the open door and the hallway beyond.“What do ye propose?”
David hesitated, then squared his shoulders. “It is a silly idea to discard them as a whole?—”
“That is simply nae going to work,” Logan cut in.
“I am well aware. So I would suggest that ye bring them in. Properly. Invite the crew to eat in the hall with the villagers sometimes. Let them see the pirates as men. Aspeople.”
Logan narrowed his eyes. “Ye think a few shared meals will turn Pete’s lot into kindly shepherds?”
“Nay,” David said. “I think keeping them apart will keep breeding more hostility, and this way, ye can control the fighting if ye control how often they meet.”
Logan thought of Pete laughing over stolen ale. Of men who had grown up with nothing but sea and steel and the simple rule ofsurvive or drown. He thought of villagers who locked their doors at night and still peeked through shutters when he passed.
“Pirates daenae become villagers because I ask nicely,” he muttered.
David’s mouth twitched. “Then daenae ask nicely. Command it. Like ye do everything else. The men look up to ye, me Laird. They listen to every word that comes out of yer mouth. Ye daenae have to be one or the other. Ye can be a captainanda laird.”
Logan did not answer right away.
He stepped back to the window and looked down again.
Emma stood in the centre of the yard, talking to Isobel. He could not hear a word, yet he knew she was talking because her hands moved. She cut the air with them, clicked her fingers, and almost poked Isobel in the shoulder. The animals had settled around her like dropped stones.
It was a ridiculous scene. A laird’s wife, feet deep in the grass with a herd of misfits at her feet.
“I have to go to the beach.” His voice came out rougher than he meant. “If these fights are starting, they will start there. If I stay in this tower and send orders, they may nae take them seriously.”
David nodded. “Aye, I agree. The men will listen if ye stand in front of them. Villagers and crew both. The rest we can work out after.”
The rest. As if anything about it would be simple.
