Page 209 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

Holding court in front of them, McDonald nodded, although was still battling his oversized plaid.

"I said, twas fannybaws, when yer friend here, I, forget his name...," McDonald shuffled unceremoniously from one foot to another.

Ainslee looked down, Malcolm noticed her cheeks redden. Swiftly, he hid a smirk. But Mister McDonald was his host, and a generous one, so Malcolm looked keenly at him, and smiled.

"James," said James, his eyes twinkling at Marisse. She stuck her head down and averted her gaze. Malcolm pretended not to notice the frisson between them. He was too busy trying to catch Ainslee, similarly looking away from him.

"James," said Mister McDonald, before clearing his throat. He blinked back the rays flooding the barn early that morning. By the look of things, it was a clear day, albeit chilly.

Already, Malcolm was giddy with anxiety. He longed to be away, on his horse and speeding through the clan. If he set off now, he could reach the Duncan keep easily by nightfall. But first he had to plan his moves.

Maybe his eyes had glazed over, because Mister McDonald tapped him jovially on the shoulder. With a start, Malcolm turned around.

"Aye, what he said... about the laird, yer father, offering yon brother, ahem, step-brother oot for a fight," said McDonald, his dark eyes glinting in the sudden, bright sunlight.

Now Malcolm was listening. "Go on," he said, keenly, settling down to listen.

"Well, I was there," said McDonald, conscious of their interest. His eyes flitted briefly to Ainslee who looked up.

"I didnae ken," she protested. Now she too sat down on a little stool by the smiddy fire. It was smoldering gently in the fireplace, waiting to be rekindled. Half-heartedly. Ainslee stoked it, keeping full view of her father. "Ye nae told me..."

"I didnae want to upset ye," said her father, grimly. "Twas nae a nice sight..."

McDonald's eyes went to Malcolm's. "Twas nae as Bruce said. Yer father didnae offer him for a fight..."

"I kent it," said Malcolm, quietly. And he had. "There's nae way my father would have fought him... it doesnae make sense. Bruce was the challenger..."

McDonald nodded, but did not quite concur. "Bruce came to yer father, accusing him o' all sorts... saying that he was in league wi' the McIvers, that sort o' thing," he said.

Malcolm listened. "So, Bruce threatened him to a duel?"

His jaw was clenching, inside, he felt sickened and wronged. But the little blacksmith raised his eyebrows.

"Nae," said the smith. "He didnae, that is the whole thing. Laird Rabbie was trying to smooth things over, when Bruce came marching over, hollering the odds! But Bruce didnae challenge him to a duel..."

Now they were all listening. The tiny smithy had the ear of the entire barn, self-consciously, he hopped from foot to foot,

"So what did happen," asked Malcolm, quietly. McDonald smiled.

"...They argued for a while, an' then eventually, Bruce backed off. Thinking it was all over, the laird began to turn, to leave as well. But then, in a second, twas all over… Someone had plunged a sgian dubh right into Rabbie's back. I didnae catch who, but either way, twas either the son, or one o' his lackeys!"

Malcolm sat there, blinking. The more he heard, the less he understood. Suddenly, he felt the chill wind from outside penetrate the shop.

"Ye mean, Bruce attacked him, when he was going away," he said, in a small voice.

McDonald just gave a nod. His eyes went to Ainslee, blinking back tears.

But this was nothing on how Malcolm felt. His heart was erupting painfully in his chest..

"Ye cannae trust a man, like that," said McDonald, somewhat unnecessarily. Malcolm almost choked. He was horrified. "So ye've got to do the right thing, for all o' us in the clan. We're right behind ye!"

Malcolm stared for a moment or two, dazed, into the distance. The revelation had not taken him by surprise, exactly, but it had made things real.

Anxiously, Ainslee looked at him. "We are behind ye, Malcolm," she said, softly. Malcolm's stomach tightened. She looked so sweet and fragile, he immediately wanted to put his arm around her. Of course he could not.

Coughing, Malcolm confounded his fears, and resolved to sound firm.

"I shall find Bruce, an' slay him," he said, simply.