Sybil glanced over her shoulder toward the door, wondering if it was too soon to go to him. “Why does Rory blame himself for his brother’s death? He wasn’t even there.”
“Brian was a kindhearted lad, well liked by all,” Grizel said as she resumed stirring the pot that hung over the hearth fire. “But he was too trusting by half. Rory was always the strong one.”
“I don’t like speaking ill of the dead, but Brian never had the makings of a chieftain.” Malcolm found his pipe on the table, lit it with a bit of kindling he held over the hearth fire, and sat down again. “If Rory had wanted it, I believe the clan would have chosen him over Brian when their father died, but Rory always insisted that the chieftainship rightly belonged to Brian.”
“Loyal to a fault, that one.” The old woman pointed her wooden spoon at Sybil. “That suited Hector. He knew he could control Brian.”
“The two lads were only fifteen when their father died. Hector, as the closest adult kinsman and a man of great experience, was given the role of tutor to the young chieftain,” Malcolm said around the pipe clenched between his teeth. “After Brian came of age, Hector continued to hold the reins.”
“And Brian let him,” his wife put in. “That’s what caused the strife between the two brothers.”
“Ach, Rory will have a fight on his hands now,” Malcolm said.
“What fight is that?” Sybil asked, though she thought she knew.
“To take his place as the next MacKenzie chieftain.” Malcolm paused to draw on his pipe. “After years of ruling in Brian’s name, Hector won’t let go easily.”
“Rory has the better claim,” Grizel said, “being both Brian’s heir and his father’s eldest living son.”
Sybil struggled to absorb the news that Rory was about to become chieftain of a powerful Highland clan.
This changed everything.
As chieftain, Rory’s marriage choice would have far greater consequences than it would as a chief’s younger half-brother. His marriage must be a carefully chosen alliance for the benefit of his clan. While she was confident he would protect her as his guest, he could no longer offer her the choice of marriage. He would put his duty to his clan first, as he ought.
Rory would be grateful to her for understanding why he must destroy their marriage contract—and she would never have to hurt his pride by telling him that her brothers had made a fool of him.
“If Rory is to claim his rightful place—and keep it,” Malcolm said, drawing Sybil from her own thoughts, “he must outwit a sly and ruthless opponent who has succeeded in deceiving most of the clan for years.”
While there were a great many things Sybil needed to learn about surviving in the Highlands, she was well-versed in the games men played for power. She had observed them from a close vantage all her life.
She thought she left all that behind when she escaped with a wild Highland warrior. Her warrior, however, turned out to be a chieftain. Or he soon would be. After Rory had done so much for her, there was finally something she could do for him. She could help him win this power struggle with his uncle,if he would let her.
She had tried so hard to save her brother from the miscalculations that led to his downfall, but he would never listen to her. She shook off the bitter memory. No matter, she was determined to help Rory outwit his uncle. She would learn all she could about the players in this new game and be ready.
What he needed now, however, was the comfort of a friend, so she left the older couple and went outside. She found Rory sitting on a log overlooking the stream that ran by the cottage. She went to stand behind him.
“I’m here,” she said,and draped her arms around his neck.
He clasped her hand where it rested across his chest. They remained silent for a time, watching the water ripple over the rocks in the river.
“We have to leave,” Rory said.“With luck, we’ll have at least a couple of days before Hector learns of Brian’s death.”
“Where will we go?” Sybil asked.
“To Castle Leod in Eastern Ross.”
“Malcolm said that’s where you’d go,” Sybil said. “Why there?”
“My father built Castle Leod on the base of an ancient fort and made it the home of the MacKenzie chieftains.” Rory paused. “That’s where the clan will choose our next chieftain.”
“Then you’ve decided to do it? To become the MacKenzie?”
“There’s no one else who can stop Hector,” he said. “A chieftain must have chieftain’s blood. My younger brother is a priest, so that leaves only me and Hector.”
“Are ye certain ye want this?” A sudden fear for him seized her heart. “There’s always a price to be paid. My brother tried to rule all of Scotland, and now he’s living in exile.”
“I never wanted this,” Rory said. “I admit I was frustrated with my brother at times, but I only ever wanted to help him be a better chieftain.”
