Page 25 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

He wasn’t about to explain the debacle he’d made of courting Niamh to his brother, so he shrugged. “’Twasnae the right time, and I was in a hurry tae return.”

“Alistair…”

Alistair barely restrained a snarl of exasperation. “Let it alone, Ewan. There’s more tae be concerned with right now than yer questions about a ring, and I’ve duties tae attend tae. Nae the least o’ which is the Council meeting ye were in such a hurry tae make sure I attended.”

Ewan gave him a searching glance, but finally nodded. “All right. If that’s the way ye feel, Alistair. I’ll leave the matter be fer now.”

Alistair scowled. “Rather ye left it be entirely.” He took a deep breath to gather his composure, then pushed open the doors to the Council chamber.

Alistair gave a nod to the assembled Council members, then went and got himself a tankard of mulled wine and some roast meat. The fire offered welcome warmth, driving away the autumn chill. Once he’d refreshed himself, he turned to the assembled Elders and leaders of his clan, including Ewan, who had taken his place as second in command.

“How did yer journey go, me laird?” The opening comment was made by one of the older members of the council. ‘We expected ye far sooner.”

“Ye kent I’d be courtin’ a lass tae bring home as a bride.” Alistair retorted. “Besides, ye ken full well that autumn is turning tae winter and the weather’s as fickle as the moods o’ the Fair Folk.”

“Did ye at least win the lass?” Another one of the elders spoke up.

“Aye. Her name’s Niamh Cameron, daughter o’ Laird Bruce Cameron and his wife Kathleen, who was formerly a MacLean.”

“Kathleen’s the one who ran off with a Lowland Laird. And ‘tis her daughter ye’re marrying? A Lowland lass born and raised?” That was Connor MacDuff, Alistair’s grandfather’s younger brother.

“Aye, she’s Lowland born, but she has the blood o’ the Highlands in her, and in any case, ye ken as well as I that the MacLean branch o’ the clan is one o’ the wealthiest. Unlike the main MacDuff line, they’ve nae been beggared by constantly supplying men, weapons and food fer the border wars.”

Alistair looked around the room, meeting the gaze of each man of the assembled council. “We need MacLean’s help, tae survive the feud with MacTavish.”

“True.” Connor nodded. “But will they give it?”

“Aye. But they wanted Kathleen’s daughter wed tae a Highlander as a condition o’ their aid. They’ll give gold only tae kin-by-marriage.”

Connor subsided. Devlin McDermont, another elder of the clan, spoke up. “What o’ yer trip? It lasted near a month.”

“Actually less. The return journey was slower than the outward one, due tae the extra horses carryin’ the lady’s luggage. As fer the journey itself…” Alistair took a deep breath, then began a recitation of the journey, including his expenses in each town, the cost of inns and food and stabling the horses. Once they were detailed for the steward and the records keeper, he started speaking of the hazards.

He hadn’t seen any bandit activity, which was a mercy, as it usually grew worse in fall, in preparation for the winter, which often kept bandits in their holes as much as it kept clansmen in their holds. There were a few places, however, where he’d noticed that the roads on MacDuff lands needed to be cleared and shored up to prevent being washed out in winter storms.

Then it was time to speak to the issue that truly worried him – the truth he’d been careful to conceal from Niamh the night before. Alistair took a deep breath. “There’s one more thing. Last night, when Niamh and I stopped tae avoid bein’ caught in the storm... there were MacTavish soldiers in the tavern we stayed in.”

“MacTavish men? On MacDuff lands?”

“Within a candle-mark o’ the border, aye.” Alistair nodded.

“’Tis worrisome. Dae ye think they’re planning something?”

“I wouldnae put it past Fergus tae plan an attack in the middle o’ the harvest, tae try and deprive the clan o’ men and resources we need tae get through the winter.” Alistair grimaced.

Fergus MacTavish was a black-hearted son of a devil, and it would be like him to try and burn out the fields or steal the harvests to starve Clan MacDuff in the winter. Either that, or stage attacks that would force men away from harvest and winter preparations to defend their lands. The sight of his soldiers so close to MacDuff borders filled Alistair with foreboding.

From the looks and muttering around the council table, he wasn’t the only one concerned by the revelation.

Evan Dearmont finally spoke up. “If MacTavish is planning something, ‘tis best ye wed yer lass as soon as possible, and get her with child. Ye need an heir, and the sooner the better.”

Alistair scowled. “The wedding is set fer tomorrow. I cannae wed the lass any sooner. And I’ll certainly nae dae her the dishonor o’ beddin’ her afore the wedding.”

“And nae one askin’ ye tae, but we all ken that ye’ve been near celibate since ye lost yer MacBeth lass. Ye cannae have a chaste wedding night, nae if ye intend tae ensure the clan has the heir it needs.”

Alistair bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to hold his temper. He knew Evan was only voicing the fears of the clan as a whole, and that he couldn’t afford to get angry. Nonetheless, what they were asking for? “Yer point?”

“The clan needs proof that yer willing and able tae dae what needs tae be done, nae matter how ye feel about the marriage or the lass. Tae that end, ‘tis only fair tae ask ye present proof o’ a proper wedding night. The lass is untouched, is she nae?”