“Nothing’s wrong,” he answered crisply.
Lucas’s eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. “Is that so? Because ye have a face on ye like somebody shat in yer porridge.”
Aiden sucked in his cheeks. “What a lovely image.”
“It’s an accurate one, I can promise ye. Ye have spent the last week stamping around the place, scowling and snapping at anyone who passes by. It’s ridiculous.”
“I have a lot on me plate. I’m Laird MacBain, in case ye havenae noticed. A great deal rests on me shoulders.”
“That it does,” Lucas agreed. “Fortunately, yer shoulders are broad enough to take the weight. And, if I might remind ye, ye did recently deal with a serious threat. With Theodore gone…”
Aiden bit the inside of his cheek. “I daenae want to talk about him.”
Lucas sighed, face softening. “I’m nae here to scold ye, me Laird. I’m nae here to make ye feel bad about yerself. Ye appointed me as yer man-at-arms to replace Theodore, and I intend to do a proper job. I am here nae as a councilman, but as a friend. Are ye going to hear what I have to say or nae?”
A long silence stretched out between them.
Aiden stared down at the whiskey in his glass. “It isnae as good, this whiskey,” he mumbled.
Lucas frowned. “What?”
“This whiskey. It isnae as good as Hannah’s stuff. It’s decent. Tasty. Drinkable, to say the least. I imagine that if ye had never had her whiskey, ye would love it. But I have had her whiskey. Iken the taste. I ken the smell, the thickness of it. Now, I cannae go back.”
Lucas said nothing. Perhaps he understood his meaning.
After a moment, he shuffled closer and braced his elbows on the desk. “There’s been nay more poisonings,” he said. “The bandits are being driven off the roads. The patrols ye set up are doing well to keep the peace. Already, things are getting better. People are relaxing. Travel is safer. The big villages are safe already, and smaller villages and more remote ones are feeling the benefits. According to our informants, bandits are either being dispersed, killed, arrested, or driven toward the mountains. Ye have done it, Aiden. Ye are a great laird. A good man.”
Aiden sniffed. “Working out a plan to dissuade some bandits is hardly the mark of a great laird.”
“Ye are too hard on yerself.”
“Actually, I think that I’m just the right amount of hard on meself.”
Lucas rolled his eyes. “It’s like banging me head against a stone wall with ye.”
“Ye ken what they say about banging yer head against a stone wall,” Aiden shot back, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Daenae say it,” Lucas hissed. “Daenae?—”
“It feels wonderful when ye stop.”
Lucas heaved a long sigh, covering his face in his hands. “Ye are determined nae to take me seriously.”
“On the contrary, man. I take ye very seriously when we are discussing matters of business or something that would affect the clan. But I can sense thatyeare about to scold me about me personal life, which ye really should have nothing to say about.”
He lifted his head. “And that’s what ye think? That I’m here to scold ye?”
“Then what are ye here to say?”
“I’m here to figure out why ye have been walking about with a face like thunder for the past week. Let me put the facts in front of ye, aye? Ye have unearthed a plot to unseat ye. Ye killed the perpetrator and rooted out a traitor. Ye dealt with a mob without shedding too much blood. Ye have earned people’s love without resorting to making them fear ye. Word of how ye crushed that mob has spread, ye ken.”
“I killed a man.”
“Aye, in defence of one of their own. Hannah Leon is well-ken and well-liked.”
“They called her a whore!”
“Folks are fickle,” Lucas insisted. “It’s blown over, believe me. There’s even talk of having the clan renamed Clan Calder. Ye have never beenMacBainanything, me Laird.”
