His great-uncle clenched his fists. “Dinnae speak tae me like that, ye half noble! I am laird here, not ye!”
“Call mah son that again,” William seethed, stepping forward, “and I will rip yer tongue out from yer mouth and stuff it down your fecking throat.”
The elder rapped his knuckles on the table, gaining back control of the room. “If this is true, then we need tae discuss this situation and the lairdship.”
“B-But he didnae do it in the time that was decided on!” Kenneth shouted, his eyes wild.
The elder narrowed his gaze. “But he did it. He brought enemies as allies, and that is wot this clan stands for. That is wot the former laird always wanted, for us tae find those that we could become allies with, not kill.” He rose from his seat. “I hope for yer sake that wot I’ve heard is wrong, Kenneth McPearson.”
Irvine watched as his great-uncle clenched his jaw before turning away from the elders and pushing his way through the crowd.
“Now,” the elder continued, settling back into his chair, “Tell me more of this alliance.”
Irvine smiled as he did as he was asked, not leaving out any part of what he had agreed to with the farm tenants and with Bridget.
Once he was done, the elder smiled, inclining his head.
“Well done, Irvine McMillian. Well done.”
20
Kenneth stalked out of the castle and into the dying sun, wanting to scream in rage at the turn of events. His half-noble nephew had come back, and now his lairdship was in peril.
No, not peril. He was no longer laird.
Knowing that it wouldn’t be long before someone did check the dungeons and found Leathen Wright there, he hastened his steps toward the warrior keep, where his loyal guards had been placed. They all rose when he walked in, placing their fists over their hearts. “Laird,” his second-in-command stated with a nod. “Wot can we do for ye?”
“We need tae make haste,” he stated, his jaw clenched. “The farm, we need tae go find the coin there.”
“And those that are left?” he questioned. “There were survivors.”
Kenneth gave him a grim smile. “Kill them all. Every last one of them!” They had ruined his existence, putting everything he had worked hard for in jeopardy.
They would rue the day that they decided to surpass him, and he was about to show everyone while they shouldn’t have tempted him with the lairdship then ripped it from him.
The elders thought that he wasn’t strong enough, that he didn’t have what it took to lead the clan. They had put their faith in a spineless Scot who thought that alliances were what was needed to show his strength.
For Kenneth, his power would be shown through his actions, and right now, he wanted to end the farm and gather the coin that was rightfully the clan’s.
There was only one way to do so.
“Saddle the horses,” he told his second-in-command. “Get yer weapons. There will be no mercy this time.”
He was going to end this once and for all, and after he was done, there would be no question that he would be laird.
Bridget drew in a breath as she watched Irvine speak to the elders before walking back to her. “Come,” he said, holding out his hand. “Let’s go find yer father.”
Her heart clamored against her chest as she took Irvine’s hand, and he led her out of the great hall, down a small dark hallway to a door. He pushed it open, and Bridget shivered against the cold that rushed out. Leathen could be down there, cold or worse.
“Wait,” Irvine said softly as she tried to rush past him. “I dinnae know wot is waiting down there. Let me go first.”
As much as she didn’t want to wait, Bridget relented and allowed Irvine to go in first, following close behind him. If her father wasn’t in the dungeon, she didn’t know what she would do.
The stairs winded down into the bowels of the castle, and they finally reached a stone floor covered with rushes, the smell musty and damp but not horrid.
“We dinnae use the dungeon,” Irvine explained as they moved past the empty cells. “There’s no need.”
In the last cell, she saw a huddled form on the narrow cot and a cry passed through her lips. “Da.”
