He must think her foolish now.
The realization made her stomach twist with humiliation. She had allowed her temper to betray her in front of the entire clan. The memory of all those watching faces burned painfully in her mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The council chamber was already filled when Ian entered the next morning.
Several men rose from their seats in greeting as he approached. “Mornin’, me Laird,” George said respectfully, inclining his head.
Ian gave a short nod as he took his place at the head of the table. Flynn stood near the wall with his arms folded, watching quietly as the meeting began. A servant poured ale into several cups before retreating quickly from the room. The low murmur of voices faded as the council turned their attention to their laird.
George cleared his throat and unfolded a piece of parchment before him.
“There are a few matters to address today,” he began carefully. “The patrols reported more signs of movement near the northern hills.”
Ian leaned forward slightly, his attention sharpening. “Raiders again?” he asked.
“Aye,” George replied. “Though the devils slip through the land like mist.” Another councilman spoke up from farther down the table. “Two sheep farms lost livestock last night. The herdsmen swear they heard riders, but saw not a soul.”
Ian’s jaw clenched as he listened.
“Then the patrols must ride farther north,” he said firmly. “Double the watch along the river road.”
Flynn nodded in quiet agreement from the wall. “Aye, me Laird. The men are already preparing.”
For a time, the council discussed supplies, patrol routes, and trade shipments moving through nearby villages. One elder reported that merchants from the southern roads would arrive within the week with iron tools and cloth. Another mentioned a flock dispute between neighboring crofters that required mediation. Ian answered their questions steadily, though impatience simmered beneath his calm tone.
Then George hesitated before speaking again. “There is… another matter, me Laird.”
Ian lifted his gaze sharply. “Speak it then.”
George shifted uncomfortably in his seat before continuing. “The clan grows concerned about the future of McGuire.” A murmur passed quietly around the table.
Ian already knew where the conversation was heading.
“The clan requires an heir,” George finished.
Another elder spoke before the silence could settle. “Ye and Lady Arianna have been wed long enough now that the matter cannot be ignored.”
A third councilman nodded in agreement. “A strong heir would settle many worries among the people.”
Ian felt irritation stir in his chest.
“We have raiders prowling the borders,” he said evenly. “Trade shipments to secure and land disputes to resolve.” His gaze hardened as he looked from one man to another. “Yet ye would rather count the days until a child appears.”
The elders exchanged uneasy glances.
George raised both hands placatingly. “No disrespect is meant, me Laird. But the clan must think of the future.”
Ian’s voice grew colder. “The future will be far bleaker if raiders burn our fields while ye fret over me marriage bed.”
Several men shifted in their seats.
Then one councilman farther down the table spoke hesitantly. “We worry because of… the matter of what occurred at supper last night.”
The room fell very still.
Ian’s head turned slowly toward the speaker. “What of it?” he asked quietly.
