“Something has been nagging at me,” Sybil said. “We’re told that Laird Buchanan’s party met your brother’s party on the road near Falkirk, a place your brother was unlikely to be.”
“Go on,” Rory said when she hesitated.
“Well, Buchanan should not have been there either,” she said. “There was a warrant for his arrest too, and yet he also left the safety of his clan’s lands. Does that not strike you as an odd coincidence?”
“I’ve been troubled by that as well,” Rory said, nodding. “How did Buchanan happen to take that risk and be in that place at the one and only time that Brian was there?”
“What do ye suspect?” Alex asked.
“Someone knew where Brian was going and arranged it with Buchanan,” Rory said.
“Who would do that?” Alex said.
“Who would benefit by having your brother out of the way?” Sybil raised an eyebrow. “If Hector feared Brian would no longer give him a free hand…”
“I dislike Hector, but he shares our blood.” Alex turned to Rory. “Ye truly believe Hector wanted our brother murdered?”
“I doubt he expected Brian to fight and get killed in the scuffle,” Rory said. “More likely, the plan was for Brian to be captured and imprisoned in Edinburgh Castle for years.”
“Then Hector could continue ruling in Brian’s name,” Alex said.
“Either way, Brian murdered or in prison, the outcome would be the same for Hector,” Rory said. “Or so he thought.”
“The clan needs you to be chieftain,” Alex said, clamping a hand on Rory’s shoulder. “Ye know I’ll do whatever ye ask.”
“Malcolm and some of the other men who were on our father’s council are meeting me at Killin day after tomorrow to make our plan,” Rory said. “Join us if ye can.”
***
Sybil struggled to keep her spirits up as they rode the final miles to Killin. It was all happening too quickly. Rory’s fight for control of the clan would leave little time for her. And once he became chieftain, she could count the days until she lost him forever.
“Ye never finished telling me how your mother came to marry your father when he already had a wife.” Sybil hoped the tale from the past would take her mind off the future.
“It all began with a wedding,” Rory said. “The Gordon chief, who was grandfather to the current Earl of the Huntly, invited the MacKenzie and Fraser chieftains to celebrate the marriage of his daughter, and my mother accompanied her father, Lord Lovat, to the gathering.”
Sybil imagined the couple sneaking off for quiet talks and stolen kisses.
“By all accounts, my parents didn’t speak a word at the gathering. The Frasers and the MacKenzies were not on friendly terms at the time,” Rory said. “But from the moment someone pointed out the lively Fraser lass, my father made up his mind to have her.”
“Just like that?” Sybil said with a laugh. “But he was married. What could he do?”
“As soon as he returned home, he sent his MacDonald wife away.”
“That seems harsh,” Sybil said.
“She was as anxious to leave as he was for her to go,” Rory said. “Of course, sending her back was a grave insult to the MacDonalds, but that did not sway my father.”
“How long did he wait before courting your mother?”
“He set off at once with two hundred warriors to lay siege to Lord Lovat’s castle.”
“Good heavens!” Sybil said.
“My grandfather Lovat stood on the castle wall and demanded to know what in the hell my father intended by this unprovoked threat of force.”
“What did he answer?”
“My father said he was in need of a wife, as he had just rid himself of one that did not suit him.” Rory chuckled. “He demanded that Lovat give him his daughter in marriage—and do so at once. In return, he promised a bond of friendship between their clans. But if Lovat refused, he swore he would be an enemy to Lovat and the Fraser clan to his dying day.”
