“Aye, I know,” William said softly, eyeing Bridget. “Who is this?”
Before Irvine could say anything, another group of people were rushing forward, with his great-uncle Kenneth at the helm.
“Irvine?” he asked, his eyes wide. “’Tis ye?”
Irving gritted his teeth. “Aye. Were ye expecting a ghost?”
“We heard distressing news,” the laird said smoothly, clearing his throat. “That ye were killed.”
Irvine arched a brow. “In the attack that ye called for on the farm?” His mother gasped, but Irvine kept his eyes training on the man before him, seeing the tick of his jaw as he realized that he hadn’t covered his tracks well enough. “I wish tae speak tae the elders.”
“’Tis not necessary,” the other man stated firmly. “I am laird here. Ye can take it up with me.”
“Nay,” Irvine replied. “I have a proposal from the farm that they will be interested in hearing.”
“Yer time is up,” his uncle shot back, his eyes flashing with anger. “It has been decided that ye didnae hold up yer part of the quest, Irvine. Besides, who is going tae believe that ye have anything at all?”
“I will vouch for him,” Bridget stated, stepping forward. “I am Bridget Wright, daughter of Leathen Wright, the man that ye are holding against his will.”
Irvine watched as the laird’s face paled, not realizing that he hadn’t thought of this.
William smirked. “I will go get the elders. ’Tis only the right thing tae do, of course. They should hear wot ye have tae say.”
“This changes nothing,” his uncle growled. “I am laird!”
“We will see aboot that,” Lisbeth said softly, clutching Irvine’s arm. “Get the elders, Will.”
It didn’t take long to gather the elders in the castle, followed by a small crowd that was anxious to see what Irvine had brought—or rather, whom. His claims were against the laird and weren’t founded yet.
Irvine was going to change that.
After the elders were seated at the long table in the hall, Irvine brought Bridget forward. “Ye gave me a task over a week past,” he started, bracing his hands on the table. “A task that ye didnae know much aboot but seemed reasonable. Did ye not?”
“Aye,” one of the elders said slowly. “But ye didnae meet the deadline, Irvine.”
“Aye, ’tis true,” Irvine admitted. “But not because I didnae want tae. It was because mah great-uncle decided tae attack the very farm that I was on and attempt tae kill the innocent people there—people that did nothing wrong.”
There were murmurs in the crowd as the elders looked at each other before turning their attention to the current laird.
“Is this true, Laird?” one asked.
“Of course not,” he growled, his arms crossed over his chest. “He has naught tae prove otherwise.”
“Och, that is where ye are wrong,” Bridget spoke up. “I’m Bridget Wright, daughter to Leathen Wright. The farm was our home until soldiers came tae invade it two nights hence. We lost tenants, men and women who had done nothing wrong to soldiers.” She drew in a breath, and Irvine wanted to reach out to take her into his arms and provide the comfort that she desperately needed.
That and he was far too proud at the words she was telling the elders.
“Mah da was taken,” Bridget continued, clearing her throat. “And I wager that he is in yer dungeons right now because of yer laird.”
The leader of the elders rubbed a hand over his face wearily. “While this is all horrid indeed, I dinnae understand wot ye can provide this clan.”
Irvine smirked, glancing at Bridget. “The farm has agreed this evening past to pay revenue to the McPearson clan in exchange for their protection.”
There were more murmurs around them. “Revenue?” the elder asked.
Bridget reached into her pocket and placed the coin on the table, the gold shining in the lamplight. “We have enough coin tae pay wotever the cost is, but I wilnae stand for mah tenants tae be slaughtered again.”
Irvine turned to the laird. “Ye will release Leathen Wright. He’s done nothing wrong.”
