Page 68 of Highlander’s Burning Touch

Fingal thought he better add this, fast, in case MacLean got the idea he was having an affair with Deva. It was just as well he did because, by the look on his face, MacLean was about to murder someone.

“What?” he gasped, looking as if someone had choked him. “Wait,” he floundered. For a moment, Fingal wondered if he might fall over with shock.

“Ye mean the wee slut is carrying on behind yer uncle’s back!” he demanded. “Are ye sure?”

“Aye,” said Fingal slyly. “I’ve seen them wi’ my own eyes…”

He was about to add more, but it already looked as if the laird was having a conniption, and he didn’t want to make it worse. For a moment, he waited as MacLean got his breath back.

“I see,” said MacLean. His anger was clearing, and now his dark eyes were darting thoughtfully about. It looked as if he was working out his next move. “Well, then, does the laird ken?”

“Nae,” said Fingal, with a weaseling glance. “He does nae ken, nae yet, I wondered if…” Fingal started. He was trying to work his way up to suggesting that MacLean be the one to bring it up. But before he could get there, MacLean dived in.

“Well then,” he said coldly. Fingal felt a shiver go through him. The laird had changed from red hot to cold as ice in a heartbeat. Now his expression was tricky and hard to decipher. “Well then, we’ll just have to see about that…won’t we?”

“Aye,” said Fingal, keenly. For a moment, they lingered by the narrow window. It had started snowing again outside.

“The thing is, I dinnae think yer lassie wants a man old enough to be her father. I thought she should be with someone… younger,” he said, his eyebrow-raising slightly.

“Ye want her to marry yer traitorous brother?” demanded MacLean. He looked so fierce that Fingal backed away. He hadn’t been prepared for just how explosive the laird of MacLean would be.

“Nae, nae,” said Fingal soothingly. The last thing he wanted to do was to unleash the laird’s legendary temper a second time. “I mean, someone ye can trust… someone ye can make an alliance wi’, an’ who can get the laird onboard… someone like me…?”

“Ye?” said MacLean, turning the thought over in his head. His eyes peered closer to Fingal’s own, making him flinch. Then, he laughed again.

“Aye, me,” said Fingal, relaxing a little. “The laird can be persuaded – he as good as said she should be wed to me earlier…” he paused. The little white lie would do no harm, he thought. “Then I will be the heir to all the clan lands… He just needs a wee push…someone else to suggest it, someone like ye…”

Fingal cast his green eyes up to MacLean, who was now pacing around and thinking.

“Suggest it?” said MacLean, his eyes darting everywhere. “Aye,” he said slowly. “I’ll suggest it, alright…” he said, looking Fingal straight in the eye. “We need to call the other lairds in the region to discuss it… right away!”

His dark eyes glared at Fingal. Instinctively, Fingal backed away, but heart beating madly, he steeled himself to look at MacLean.

He almost wished he didn’t. The laird’s mad eyes were dancing all over him, sparkling with hate.

“The other lairds, sir?” questioned Fingal. This, he hadn’t reckoned on.

“Aye,” snapped MacLean, with such a vehemence it nearly brought Fingal’s head off. “The others, they need to ken about this too. To agree to what we plan…”

Seeing Fingal’s unease, MacLean turned to him in question.

“Ye do agree, dinnae ye? We need to unite the clans against yer brother, an’ in favor of us… of ye…?” he said, staring at him point-blank.

Fingal felt something stir within him, but the fear won. “Aye sir, we do, but,” he began.

The laird cut him short. “Well, that’s it then. Ye shall tell the lairds to meet us here, as soon as they can get here…”

“Aye, but sir,” insisted Fingal. He was intimidated by MacLean but pressed on regardless. “The other lairds are nae as powerful as my uncle…” he reminded him. “We need to tread carefully…”

There was a pause in which Fingal watched MacLean’s face turn somersaults. Fingal tensed, expecting an outburst.

“Och,” scoffed MacLean. “Nae fash laddie. An’ I’ve got more up my sleeve than just the lairds, I will also send message to the other…”

This was meant to reassure, but it did anything but.

“What others?” asked Fingal, taken off-guard. His surprise must have unsettled MacLean, as he stared at him deeply, then he shrugged him off.

“Och, no-one ye need worry yer wee head about,” he said, shortly. “But make no mistake, I have got friends in high places who can come to help, should the situation…change...”