“And now I am tae make it happen,” Irvine finished with a heavy sigh. “I dinnae think this is going tae be successful, Da.”
William walked over and placed his large, scarred hands on his son’s shoulders. “If anyone can do this,” he said softly, “ye can, Irvine. I believe in ye, and so does yer mother. I dinnae think that yer uncle is the one tae be the leader of this clan. If he would have been a good choice, Edna would have named him her successor before her passing.”
That was true. The lady had known she was dying for a month or more from a wasting disease that the healers couldn’t cure. She had plenty of time to name his great-uncle—or anyone, for that matter.
“Make certain that ye keep yer ears open,” his father continued. “And I mean not just for danger. A good ruler listens tae his people. He shows them that he’s not above them but rather their equal. A title doesnae make them special. Remember that.”
“Aye, I will,” Irvine replied. He wanted nothing to do with the fact that he would be a ruler over the clan. He wanted to lead them into their future, but only by working by their sides as they did so and not lording over them.
“We will be watching our backs as well,” his father murmured, letting go of Irvine’s shoulders. “I dinnae think it’s going tae end if ye are successful, lad.”
Irvine didn’t think so either.
A few hours later, Irvine and Malcolm set out on the road that would lead to the border and ultimately to the farm. Their packs were tied tightly to their horses, and Irvine had elected to wear plain clothing so as to not draw attention to himself. Bandits enjoyed robbing those on the road, looking for easy targets to divest them of their animals and coin.
He hoped they wouldn’t come across any on their journey.
“’Tis a horrid day tae do this,” Malcolm grumbled as they plodded along. “The rain is coming, and then we will be drenched.”
Irvine eyed the angry sky, the dark rolling clouds approaching them from the moors. “If ye hadnae took so long tae gather yer things, we would already be there.”
Malcolm snorted. “I think it was yer mother that held us up and not me.”
Irvine couldn’t disagree. His mother had clung to him, begging him to be careful and to come back successful. His father had to pry her fingers away from his arm so that they could depart. He knew she was worried about the outcome and what might happen to them if Kenneth ended up victorious. They loved the clan and its people, the thought of having to leave over something as trivial as this turning Irvine’s stomach.
He wouldn’t let it happen.
When the rain started, he swore, and they urged the horses faster, mud splattering them as it collected on the road. At this rate, by the time they reached their destination, they would look like drowned sheep.
Irvine and Malcolm rode through the storm, miserable by the time the rain let up and the cold air swooped in. “Now we will catch the auge,” Malcolm replied as he shivered in his tunic. “Cannae we stop tae build a fire?”
Irvine shook his head. “We only have aboot another few hours before we arrive. ’Tis nary a reason tae delay this journey.” He wanted to get there and assess the situation and hopefully negotiate better than his great-aunt ever could. Everyone expected him to fail, and while Irvine wasn’t so certain that he wasn’t on a fool’s errand to begin with, he wasn’t going to fail.
Finally, as dawn crested on another day, the farmland came into view. “Thank God,” Malcolm muttered as they moved down the road lined with split fencing. “I thought we would freeze before we got here.”
Irvine just shook his head at his friend as they reached a place to dismount, looking down at his mud-splattered tunic with some disdain. It wouldn’t be the best first impression with the farm owner, but all his clothes were wet from the soaking rain, and since this one had a chance to air out at least, he was stuck wearing it for now.
Irvine looked around the area, noting the small huts dotting the land for miles, reminding him of the tenants that chose to stay on the outskirts of the village on his land.
My land.
If he were successful, then it would all be his to do as he saw fit. A sense of pride threaded through him, banishing the last of his worries about being laird from his mind. His father and mother were right. He was destined to be laird, and this was his first step in procuring that position.
Then he would take the McPearson clan and make them the greatest clan in all of Scotland.
There was a large hut in the midst of the pasture, the outbuildings surrounding it framed in the early morning light. He would start there, knowing that his letter had been received by the owner of the farm and perceived leader. The letter had been addressed to Leathen Wright and had outlined the loss for the McPearson clan but also the need for Irvine’s visit. He had attempted to keep the letter impersonal and direct so that there would be no mistaking as to why they were here.
Irvine started down the path leading to the entrance of the farm, and it opened nearly immediately, causing him to stop in his tracks. A slight young woman appeared out of the home, and Irvine drew in a breath as he looked her over, seeing that she was doing the same. In his mind’s eye, he saw hair the color of midnight, falling to her slim waist in a mass of curls. Her form was draped in a dark green dress that showed off her curves, and he felt the stirring of his cock for the first time since all this began.
God, she is lovely.
“Who are ye?” she asked, her blue eyes flashing anger. “Wot are ye doing here?”
Irvine felt Malcolm’s presence at his back, forcing himself to look relaxed. “We arenae here tae hurt ye, lass,” he forced out.
She arched a brow. “Then do ye need assistance?”
“Just tell her,” Malcolm urged in a low breath, “so we can find that warm fire and thaw our arses out.”
