“In what way?” MacKay seemed genuinely interested.
“Stellan confers with the laird daily, attends all meetings, judgements, and the like. He plans for the clan with our da. Crops, buildings, new crafts, fairs. Da has given over some tasks to him, such as visiting outlying crofts and seeing to their well-being.”
“Only the heir, and nay ye, the spare?”
“I do as well when I can. He uses me in other ways, as well.”
“Interesting. But I canna see a lass riding to outlying crofts…”
“Why no’, with sufficient guard? She wants to learn from ye. For the good of MacKay, she must. She may no’ be able to swinga longsword to go to war for the clan, but she is reputed to be a skilled archer, and can defend MacKay’s walls. And train other lasses to do the same. She could name a war leader to command MacKay warriors in the event they are needed. I have seen how well she has trained Valkyrie. She has values beyond the alliance ye contemplate that perhaps ye havena taken advantage of.”
Someone knocked on the door, forestalling any reply MacKay might have made. He glanced up and called out, “Come.”
Stellan stood, knowing he’d lost MacKay’s attention. “I’ll leave ye to think on what I’ve said,” he told him and left as a man he didn’t know entered. Stellan thought MacKay heard him. Perhaps he would change his thinking about the value of his daughter and heir, and do more to protect her.
CHAPTER 14
Two days later, Stellan was wondering if he would ever get a chance to be alone with Mariota again. She was angry with him, and he didn’t blame her. He was angry with himself. He’d made her want him— someone she couldn’t have. If the pain she felt was anything like the pain he carried in his heart— and lower —she might never speak to him again.
He was no better off. Though his men stood watch over her, he’d passed up the chance to go hunting, instead hanging around the keep hoping to run into her, or at least to see her from a distance like a lovesick lad. Disgusted with himself, he’d retreated to the stable to care for his horse. He straightened from checking its hooves and put a hand on its mane. Looking at the animal, he saw a way out. He really should leave. Send for Anders, meet him in the woods and swap places. Put an end to this torture and do his best to forget what Mariota meant to him.
He couldn’t. He owed Mariota more than to disappear suddenly. She would know the real Anders had arrived. Leaving was a cowardly move. He wasn’t a coward, and she deserved better. So did his twin. So did he. He just didn’t know yet how to clean up the mess he’d made.
He patted the horse’s neck and left the stall. He was crossing the bailey when the laird’s hunting party came back.
The rusty stench of blood filled the air. The laird, injured and insensible, rode double with one of his men, held upright by an arm around his chest. Blood drenched his clothes and the man supporting him. Another man leapt from his horse and ran past Stellan into the keep, shouting for the healer as several others pulled their laird down and carried him toward the keep’s now open door.
Stellan went to the man who’d supported the laird on his horse. “What happened?”
“The boar got him, but he got the boar, too.”
Only then did Stellan notice a boar, dripping red from several wounds, draped over the back of another horse. Once the laird was injured, they hadn’t had time to field dress it.
“Damned bad luck it twitched when he bent over what he thought was the dead beast and got a tusk in his side for his troubles,” the man added.
“Is yer healer good?”
“Aye. Good enough? We’ll see.”
“Where was Alber?” Stellan knew he’d gone with the hunters, but worry that he might come back and cause trouble was another reason Stellan had stayed in the keep.
The man eyed him, then tilted his head toward the other horses abandoned in the bailey by the men carrying their laird to the healer. “With one of the men. He didna do this.”
Where was Alber now? Stellan looked around the bailey and spotted him entering the stable, leading two of the hunting party’s horses inside.
Where was Mariota? In her chamber? She must be told. She might need to be with her da to get his orders when he awoke. If he did.
Stellan charged inside and up the stairs to her chamber. The door was closed, and probably locked since he’d seen his men down in the great hall. They would have seen the MacKay brought in and heard what was going on. He pounded on her door, then knocked even louder when he got no answer.
“Coming.” He heard her voice softly through the thick wood. “Who is it?”
“Ste…Anders,” he said. He needed to be more careful. If he’d said Stellan, and someone overheard, he’d have a lot of explaining to do.
He was still frowning when Mariota opened the door and looked up at him, a question in her moss-colored gaze.
“Is something wrong?”
“They just brought in yer da, injured by the boar he killed. He’s been taken to the healer.”
