That got the guard’s attention, and he waved Malcolm through, allowing him to move his horse into the bare courtyard. It was silent, nothing like the courtyards that Malcolm was used to, and the prickling on the back of his neck didn’t help much either. It wasn’t that he was worried about his safety, but he didn’t like having the feeling of being watched. After years of protecting Irvine, he was quite used to danger. His sword skills had only improved with the skirmishes they had faced, and he had the scars to prove how he had gotten better over time.
After all, all he had ever wanted to be was a warrior. His father had died protecting the former laird, a Scot that had proved his worth by giving his life. His mother had followed a year later, dying of what most called a broken heart, but in all truth, Malcolm knew that she favored the ale far too much.
He hadn’t told anyone of how she truly died, cleaning up the spittle on her cheek and closing her eyes before alerting the village healer.
After his mother’s death, Malcolm had joined the warriors, making his way to become Irvine’s most trusted advisor and closest friend. There would come a day, likely soon given the current lady of the keep’s health, that Irvine would be laird, and it was Malcolm’s responsibility to protect his laird and watch his back.
Which was why it was even more imperative that he find Edna safe and get her home to her family. Irvine needed him for the days and months to come, and he couldn’t very well be spending his time looking for his former friend’s beloved.
Even if she had affected him in ways he didn’t care to admit to himself.
After dismounting, Malcolm was shown inside the keep and to the heavy wooden chair seated before a fire, the smell of unwashed bodies and moldy rushes causing Malcolm to take smaller breaths. The Scot seated in the chair eyed him suspiciously, the tightening around his eyes telling Malcolm that he would need to have care with his words if he wanted to leave without a sword to his neck. “Who are ye?”
As a show of respect, even though Malcolm didn’t think the laird deserved it, he placed a fist over his heart. “I’m Malcolm Lennox, second-in-command tae Irvine McPearson and recently lead warrior over Erik McGregor’s warriors.”
“He sent ye here?” the laird asked abruptly, sitting up in his chair.
“Nay,” Malcolm responded. “He didnae. I come as mah own man.”
That got the laird’s attention. “Come,” he said, motioning to the chair near his. “Sit.”
Malcolm did as the laird asked, bracing his hands on his knees. “I’ve followed Irvine McPearson nearly all mah days, dutifully doing what he demands of me, but I long tae be mah own man.”
Malcolm had thought about how he could get the laird to sway to his side, to start to trust him, and the only way would be to denounce those that he had been loyal to. It was a risky move, one that could end with Malcolm defending his own life instead of his honor, but if he wanted to figure out a way to save Edna, it was the only option he had.
“Ye have heard of mah abilities. I think ye could use someone like me helping with yer warriors, perhaps even being an advisor tae a great laird one day.”
The laird chuckled. “Am I really tae believe that ye want tae serve me? How are ye going tae prove that, Lennox? Words can be spoken.”
“Aye, ’tis true,” Malcolm admitted with a shrug. “But there is a particular lass I hear ye wish tae wed, and I can get her tae agree with that.”
Neacal arched a brow. “And how will ye do that?”
Here it was, the moment that Malcolm knew would get him closer to Edna. “I was a close ally tae her beloved. She will listen tae me. I can sway her tae yer bed.” Every word was bitter on his tongue but necessary.
“Ah,” Neacal replied, settling back into his chair. “And ye think that I have her?”
“I know she’s missing,” Malcolm answered smoothly, settling in his chair as well, not showing any signs of panic outwardly. “And if ye dinnae have her, then I am willing tae go and find her.”
The laird stroked his chin with his fingers. “Wot if I told ye that I might know of her whereaboots, warrior?”
“Then I would say...” Malcolm began, allowing a devious grin to cross his face. “...that ye are already ahead of where ye need tae be.”
The laird eyed Malcolm. “Tell me how ye plan tae do this, Lennox.”
“She knows me,” Malcolm replied easily, inwardly crossing his fingers that Edna wouldn’t dispute that claim the moment she saw him. “I will need some time with her, tae help her understand that this is in her best interest, in her clan’s best interest.”
If he could get some time alone with Edna, he could tell her of his plans and how she must follow along for the time being. He needed Neacal to lower his shields, to start to trust Malcolm, and then his weakness would be shown.
Otherwise, he had done all this for nothing, and Edna was as good as the next lady of the keep whether she wished to be one or not.
“And ye want tae be mah advisor?” Neacal asked lightly, distrust still in his expression.
“I can be yer advisor or the leader of yer warriors,” Malcolm replied. “It matters not tae me as long as I have a say so in the way the clan is run.” If the laird believed that Malcolm wanted power, then he would believe that he would do all that he could to get it.
The laird looked at him for a few more moments before clapping his hands. “Bring the lass here.”
Malcolm tried not to show his pleasure. He had done it! He had gotten the laird to admit that he had Edna in his grasp!
