Page 225 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

"Mal, ye did it!" she began, but then stopped dead.

Bruce had got to his feet. She did not see how or why, just that he had Malcolm by the throat, pressing him up against the wall. Malcolm dropped the sword, to the turmoil of the crowd. Men jostled to get forward, but could not reach in time. The sword fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Ye are nae gonnae win, wee man," glared Bruce. Ainslee's stomach churned. Chaos was erupting, but no-one seemed to be able to get near. Men jostling the crowd were pressed back by the keep's guards.

Marisse tried pleading, to one of them, a curly haired lad. He did not budge, but she kept his attention long enough for Ainslee to come closer. Now she was near the front, just by where the sword had fallen. It lay, tantalizing her by her foot.

In a flash, she had pulled it up, stashing it quickly beneath her shawl. Then, she pushed forwards, trying her hardest to get to the fray, But something blocked her; James.

Looking up, his face towered over hers.

"Here," she said, placing the sword in his hands. "Quickly!"

James needed no more prompting, In seconds he was at Bruce's throat.

"Ye miserly worm!" he hissed, pressing the new blade deep into him. Bruce gasped in shock, and fell away. This time, James took no chances, tying him securely with a rope.

Finally, Ainslee rushed to Mal, who squeezed her tenderly.

"Ladies an' gentlemen," announced James, holding Malcolm's arm in the air. "I give ye, yer new laird, Malcolm Duncan!"

Confused shouts turned to loud cheering. Ainslee turned to Mal, hugging him hard. An outbreak of shouting thronged in the air. Malcolm's eyes twinkled and led Ainslee away by the hand.

"I told ye I would do it!" he said, putting his arms around her. Ainslee caught his scent, and leaned down into it. She felt her emotions ignite.

Then, Malcolm smiled. Taking her hand, he asked her; "Noo how do ye fancy a tour o' the laird's private quarters?"

Ainslee held tightly onto him, her head a confused mixture of noise and joy. The way she felt, she never wanted to let him go.

"Aye, I'd like that verra much..."

EPILOGUE

"The laird has fallen!"

A black-haired official tapped on the table, soliciting the attention of the crowd.

"Hark! Hear ye!" His voice battled the room. But it was no match for the sheer rumpus that was taking place.

Holding Ainslee tenderly, Malcolm glanced about. He might have promised Ainslee a tour of the keep, but right then, it was premature.

He was in turmoil. His heart had not yet set still from winning the fight. In the background, the local men were enthusiastically bundling Bruce away.

Milling about, the clan guards. Since the deposition of their leader, they had become increasingly aimless. A couple had joined forces with the crowd, but not all.

An uneasy truce reigned, with confusion from both sides. It was into this fray that the dark-haired official stepped. Malcolm recognized him as being the steward who had shown them in. At the time, he had assumed he was loyal to Bruce, but now he was not so sure.

"Silence!" the man barked, Finally, his words cut through. Now joined by a number of the elders, the crowd quietened, just enough to hear his words.

"The laird has fallen... an' as steward it falls to me, an' the elders, to announce a new leader..."

Malcolm witnessed the panic on the faces of the elders, a straggling group of men with graying beards. Beside him, Ainslee looked up.

The scent of her hair was sweet. Even in the cloying heat of the packed hall, he could smell it. Malcolm closed his arms around her tightly. All his senses were swimming. The heat, the intense noise... And the expectation in the air.

"In the interim, we are..."

The man was cut short.