Connor’s deep voice reverberated somewhere low in Ilysa’s belly, making her hand quiver as she poured whiskey into his cup. For a moment she feared he would notice, but she needn’t have worried.
“I want them to know,” Connor continued, “that we will fight for the lands the MacLeods stole from us.”
“A’ phlàigh oirbh, a Chlanna MhicLeòid!”—a plague on the MacLeods!—the four chanted in unison and raised their cups.
Ilysa could see that she had arrived just in time with more whiskey.
“If you’re intent on this,” Duncan said, “I should remain as captain of your guard and go with ye.”
“I need ye to protect our people here, just as I need Ian and Alex to hold our other castles,” Connor said. “I’m sailing for Trotternish in the morning, so I suggest we discuss how to remove the MacLeods from our lands.”
Ach, the man should let his wounds heal before leaving. Ilysa would have to watch him closely on the two-day journey.
She took her tray to the side table and stood with her back to them, pretending to be busy. Because they suspected Connor’s uncle had spies in the castle, Ilysa had always served them herself when Connor’s inner circle met in private. The four men were so accustomed to her coming and going that they never noticed when she stayed to listen.
“The MacLeods are a powerful clan,” Ian said. “We won’t defeat them without a strong ally fighting at our side.”
“If ye want us to take Trotternish,” Alex said, “ye should make a marriage alliance with another clan.”
Ilysa tensed, though she was certain Connor would say it was not yet time, as he always did.
“Several clans have already left the rebellion, and it will end soon,” Ian said. “’Tis possible now to judge which clans will have power—and which won’t—when it’s over.”
“Ye always said that’s what ye were waiting for,” Alex said. “Of course, we think ye were just stalling.”
“You’re right,” Connor said. “’Tis time for me to take a wife.”
Ilysa’s vision went dark, and she gripped the edge of the table to keep from falling. Concentrating to keep her feet under her, she sidestepped along the table. When she reached the end of it, she turned around and half fell onto the bench that was beside it against the wall.
From the long silence that followed Connor’s announcement, the men were as surprised as she was.
“We prodded the bull by taking Trotternish Castle. Alastair MacLeod could strike back at us at any time,” Connor said. “The sooner I make a marriage alliance, the better.”
Soon?Ilysa took deep breaths trying to calm herself. What was wrong with her? She had known Connor would wed eventually.
“God knows, ye need a woman,” Alex said. “How long has it been?”
When the others began making ribald remarks, Ilysa knew they had forgotten her completely and was grateful for it. Connor’s apparent celibacy since becoming chieftain had been the subject of a good deal of speculation and gossip. The men of the castle seemed almost as amazed by the chieftain’s failure to take any lass to his bed as the women were disappointed.
The distance to the door suddenly seemed too far. As soon as Ilysa could trust herself to walk, she forced herself to get to her feet. She crossed the floor with her head down and bit her lip hard to keep from weeping.
***
Connor let them have their laugh though he had little humor for this particular subject. He took a long drink of his whiskey. By the saints, he needed a woman.
His father and grandfather were great warriors, but the strife they caused with all their women had weakened the clan. His grandfather’s six sons by six different women had all hated each other. After the murder and mayhem among them, only two remained alive. Connor’s own father’s philandering had caused another round of turmoil.
Connor was determined not to follow in their footsteps in that respect. During his years in France and before, he had taken pleasure in the company of women, as young warriors will. But when he returned to find his father and brother dead, everything changed. He could never again do as he pleased. As chieftain, his every decision had consequences for the clan.
He could afford no missteps. Connor’s half uncle, who was called Hugh Dubh, Black Hugh, for his black heart, had nearly destroyed the clan before Connor took the chieftainship from him. Thanks to the help of the three men sitting with Connor now, the clan had recovered much of its strength. Relying on their swords and their wits, they had taken control of the clan’s castles and secured most of their lands. All that remained was to reclaim the Trotternish Peninsula.
Connor would not destroy all he had built by leaving a legacy of strife and sorrow as his father and grandfather had done. He was determined to wed only once, provided he was not widowed, and to have no children except with his wife.
“This decision of who I marry is vital to the clan’s future,” Connor said when he grew tired of his friends’ jests about his celibacy. “We must weigh the benefits and drawbacks of each possible alliance.”
“The best match would be a daughter of the MacLeod chieftain,” Ian said. “Remember, the oldest method of subduing an enemy is through the marriage bond.”
“And it has the distinct advantage of requiring the sacrifice of only one man,” Alex said with a twinkle in his eye.
