“Wot?” she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously.
His smile was slow, and Bridget felt it clear to her toes.
“Nothing, lass. Nothing at all.”
Oh no… I have tae stay away from this one!
7
Kenneth McPearson walked into the study that had once been his sister’s and paused, still smelling the soap she preferred heavy in the air. He saw her embroidery that she had attempted to do sitting on the chair by the fire, as if she were expected back at any moment.
Leeth’s sword hung above the fireplace where she had put it the day he had died, her grief felt for months. Kenneth doubted she had ever gotten over the death of her warrior husband, as they were a true love match that would span a lifetime.
Everyone had loved Edna. Her clan loved her. Her family loved her. She had endured many trials and tribulations in her lifetime, from raising her nieces to being named laird and leading a clan to what he had to admit was a fruitful future.
But they had never cared for each other. While she had been surprised to see him on her doorstep that day, she hadn’t let him into her close fold of loved ones. Instead, she had allowed him to take residence in the castle and become one of her advisors after a few years, though he had been left out of any decisions that involved the elders. It had angered him, but Kenneth had not allowed it to be known to her or anyone that was loyal to his sister.
Instead, he had gone out and garnered his own loyal subjects. Now he had a small group of warriors that hadn’t been accepted into William’s group and a few counselors that had been instrumental in getting him to the position he was in now.
It was what he did well—swaying people to his side. That particular skill had helped Kenneth well over the years when he served as an advisor to a now-deceased laird in the Highlands of Scotland. Whereas everyone in the McPearson clan thought he had been captured in his earlier days after leaving to defend the former laird, he really had talked his way out of prison and had the other warriors executed so that they couldn’t tell the true tale.
For years afterward, the laird had welcomed Kenneth into his own family, giving him access to his coffers and to his advisors. Kenneth had learned all that he could, and when the laird had passed on, Kenneth had as well. He could have easily become laird to that clan if he had pressed the issue, but there was something alluring about coming home.
He just hadn’t expected to find his sister in the lofty position and unable to manipulate her to his liking.
Now he had the perfect opportunity to take over as laird—that was, if he could get his nephew out of the way.
Kenneth walked over and sat behind the large table that Edna herself had used, waiting for his guards and counselors to file into the small room. Once the door was firmly shut, he leaned back in the chair.
“Mah nephew is on his quest. He will fail, I am certain of it.”
Procuring the farm had been a fool’s errand at best. No one in the history of the McPearson clan had been successful in purchasing the farm, and those that had attempted had been haunted by the parcel of land that had gotten away from them.
Kenneth didn’t anticipate feeling that failure. Sure, Irvine was going to fail, but once the seven days were up on Irvine’s mission, he himself would swoop in and claim the farm on behalf of the clan.
“Aye, he is going tae fail,” one of the counselors announced. “Leathen Wright trusts no one. One mention that he is a McPearson, he will send him back with his tail tucked between his legs like a beaten dog.”
A rumble of laughter echoed throughout the group, and Kenneth smirked at the image. Once Irvine was defeated, he would banish his niece and her assassin husband, as he knew they would never be loyal to him as their laird. They would be seen as failures, having fallen because their son couldn’t complete his quest.
It was what he was looking forward to.
“Once he does,” Kenneth said after the laughter quieted down, “we will go tae the farm and take it over by force. We cannae afford for those unclaimed clansmen tae take up arms against our clan.”
“Aye!” the group called out, beating their chests. Kenneth watched the moment with a burst of pride in his chest, knowing he was about to send the McPearson clan in the direction that it should have been for generations. His dear sister had been a negotiator, but that was not how he liked to rule.
He liked to rule by action, and the farm would be the first one to see that action. Irvine had five days left in his quest, and Kenneth was content to sit back and wait. The elders would be forced to uphold their ruling once he didn’t appear victorious at the end of the seven days, and they would have little choice but to appoint him as laird.
It was what he was looking forward to.
Irvine hauled the bale of hay from the wagon to the barn, his arms straining under the weight. He had woken this morning before dawn, feeling the ache of his muscles from the work he had completed the day before, coupled with the exhaustion of taking the first watch so Malcolm could get some rest.
Now they were both in a surly mood, snapping at each other more than once this morning. Malcolm had mentioned leaving again this morning, stating that the farce wasn’t worth it, and he should just go back to the elders and give up his quest in favor of his uncle.
Irvine couldn’t do that. He couldn’t fail, no matter how difficult his quest had just become. He had tried to get some time with Leathen last night at supper, but the so-called leader of the farm was a busy man with his tenants, called away before he could start gaining the older Scot’s trust.
It was a minor setback, of course. It was clear to Irvine that he was gaining Bridget’s trust steadily, though her wariness of him was still evident in her lovely eyes. But it was no matter. Irvine was going to just have to double down on his efforts.
Wooing lasses was one of the things he did well.
