Page 5 of The Return of the Heir

Marcus’s nostrils flared through a hot gust of indignation, but the interloper held his tongue.

Alastair pressed his fingers to his temple, fighting back a sudden throbbing there. He had wondered what kind of greeting he would receive, but this was nothing like he’d imagined. Instead of stepping into a fray, he’d formed a thought to head to the Fairy Tower and figure out why he’d imagined seeing Gwendolyn there. “Return him to his clan before this escalates any further.”

“Alastair, please,” Rowena whispered. “Do not send him away. What if these men kill him?”

“Kill me?” Marcus surged forward. “I would like to see them try.”

“No one has any desire to kill this man.” In a similar situation, Alastair was certain the MacDonalds would not spare a MacLeod, but for some reason his sister seemed fond of the lad. Alastair flattened his lips as he gazed at the warriors who were now his men even though he hadn’t seen them in years. Amongst them he recognised four he could trust. “Emery, Innis, Andrew, and Tully, can you give me your oath that you will escort this MacDonald, unharmed, back to where our land meets theirs?”

“Aye,” the men said in unison as they moved forward to extract Rowena from the man’s arm. Her cheeks paled as the four men led the intruder outside.

“He will be safe, Sister. You have their word.” Alastair held out his hand. “Come, we have much to discuss.”

Instead of accepting his hand, Rowena gathered her skirts and raced out of the great hall, then up the grand staircase.

“Becks, how long has this thing between my sister and Marcus MacDonald been going forward?”

Becks pursed his lips. “None of us truly ken fer certain, m’laird. But this isn’t the first time we’ve caught him in the castle.”

Alastair’s headache throbbed more intensely. “Let me get this straight.” He looked over the remaining men gathered before him. “This has happened before and none of you thought to do anything about it before tonight? Why stop him now and not then?”

A warrior he knew as Mackie stepped forward, his cheeks reddened. “Because we knew you were coming home and didn’t want a MacDonald to be the first thing you saw. We want you to stay. You belong with us. We need you here.”

Alastair felt an ache somewhere within him that had nothing to do with his long journey here. You belong with us. How long had it been since he’d belonged anywhere?

“He’s right.” Callum’s brow furrowed. “Every year you were gone, things kept getting worse. Then Father died and things deteriorated even more. So much is wrong, and none of us know how to fix any of it. We need you now more than ever.”

They all looked at Alastair expectantly, as if he could simply say something and everything would improve. He frowned. What the hell could he say that would make them feel as though he knew what he was doing? “Close the gates. After I speak with Rowena, I’ll meet you all back here and you can explain to me all that has happened in the past five years.”

Before any of them could respond, he strode down the hallway and raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He’d fled his obligations, however temporarily, to have a serious discussion with his sister about bringing an enemy into their home. At the top of the stairs he paused, gazing down the hallway towards the south wing and the Fairy Tower beyond that.

Once again, in his mind’s eye he saw the face, framed in a thick cascade of golden hair, that had haunted him for years. A delicate nose, wide-set blue eyes that were neither light nor dark—more like the colour of the sky at twilight. Shaking the thoughts of the past away, he turned and headed down the north wing to his sister’s bedchamber and the duties that lay ahead.

He had to live in the present if he were to resume his rightful place as heir of the Clan MacLeod.