Hopefully he would take into account what she had said about becoming her father’s successor.
11
Irvine saw Bridget to her hut before he trudged to his, throwing open the door and causing Malcolm to greet him with his sword.
“’Tis only ye,” he sighed, lowering his sword. “Thank God ye are back.”
“Wot’s happened?” Irvine asked immediately, seeing the worry on his friend’s face.
Malcolm let out a heavy breath as he fell onto the narrow bed, placing his sword next to him. “There was a visitor.”
The blood in Irvine’s veins ran cold as ice. “Wot sort of visitor?” he asked lightly as he stripped off the borrowed coat. “Dinnae tell me it was mah uncle.” He still had four days until his task was to be completed.
“Nay,” Malcolm said, shaking his head. “But it was a messenger sent by yer da.”
“Mah da?” he asked. It was hard for him to lie to Bridget and pretend that his father and his mother were dead and gone when her mother truly was. He had heard the pain in her voice and wanted nothing more than to comfort her.
And that kiss. He couldn’t think about the kiss right now, not with this sudden shift in his plans.
“Aye,” Malcolm replied. “I spied the tartan while in the woods, hunting for some game to waste the rest of the afternoon while ye were courting Bridget. It was good that I did. Could ye imagine the disaster that would have been?”
Irvine couldn’t help but agree with Malcolm’s statement. It would have proven to be disastrous if Leathen or someone else had waylaid the messenger and pieced together their arrival timing.
That and it couldn’t be good that his father thought to seek him out either. Something was wrong, and Irvine could almost guarantee that it had to do with his great-uncle Kenneth.
“Wot did he say?” he asked lightly, clenching his fist.
Malcolm sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Kenneth is starting tae spread word that ye are going tae fail.” Malcolm shook his head, as if he were remembering the conversation himself and hating the words once more. “He’s gathering support, Irvine, tae make a case against ye tae not be laird.”
Irvine swore as he kicked at the floor, his good feelings from earlier now nothing more than a distant memory. He should have known that his great-uncle would not just sit back and wait for him to fail, that he would have plans in place to make the case without Irvine being present to offer his position.
He wasn’t even concerned that Irvine would actually be a victor, which meant that he had sent him on a fool’s errand, one that his great-uncle was certain Irvine couldn’t follow through with.
He couldn’t follow through with it now.
Not after today.
“He’s going tae take yer position,” Malcolm said, his voice angry. “He’s going tae take wot’s rightfully yers, Irvine. We need tae head home and stop him.”
Irvine thrust a hand through his hair, feeling the anger and despair well up inside at what he had learned. It couldn’t come at the worst possible moment for Irvine and for his clan.
“The only way I can stop him is tae get this farm.”
Malcolm barked out a laugh. “That old Scot isnae going tae sign over this farm tae ye! He hates the McPearsons. Ye havenae heard the talk as I have! If he knew who we were, he would run a sword through our guts!”
It was the truth. Irvine knew that Leathen would feel betrayed by their lies and decide once and for all to end the McPearson interference in his farm.
Which would mean that Bridget would likely allow it to happen.
“I cannae betray these people.”
“Wot?” Malcolm shouted. “’Tis the whole reason ye came here! That lass, she’s gotten tae ye.”
“Aye,” Irvine said heavily, sitting on the bed across from Malcolm. “She told me their secret.” He almost wished she hadn’t so that he could never use it against them, but it was clear to Irvine that she had wanted to share something with him that meant a great deal to her, and a part of him wondered if it was to keep him here.
With her.
If only it wasn’t so difficult now! Irvine had a clan that was expecting him to come home and prove the elders wrong, that he was ready to take the position as laird.
