Page 60 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird
“Likely.”
“Likely isnae proof.”
Hamish’s expression did not alter. “They fled from MacNicol colors and used the old Gunn path. I didnae think tae ask them tae sign a confession.”
A few men shifted, concealing amusement. Finlay did not.
“Rumor is spreading among the southern families,” Donaldina said before the exchange could harden. “Cormac claims Roy means tae place MacIver men over MacNicol lands and strip the smaller clans of what little authority remains tae them.”
“Then he lies,” Roy replied.
Donaldina glanced at him. “A lie neednae be true tae become useful.”
His gaze met hers briefly.
“Aye.”
The agreement came without resistance. The council noticed.
Donaldina opened the supply ledger. “The western granary holds enough for four months at present measure. Six if the autumn levy arrives on time.”
“And if Cormac stops it?” Finlay asked.
“He would need support from the farming settlements,” Donaldina replied. “Which is why armed collectors willnae be sent.”
A younger councilor frowned. “Then how are the levies tae be secured?”
“By reminding the tenants that grain given willingly feeds their own defenders,” she clarified. “Men surrender stores reluctantly when soldiers arrive at their doors. They contribute more readily when they believe the walls protect them.”
Roy placed one finger upon the inland road. “The northern farms remain exposed. A raid there would draw men away from Dun Ard.”
Donaldina understood at once. “Cormac could use it as a diversion.”
“Aye. Which means we dinnae empty the castle in answer tae the first alarm.”
“Then the northern folk are left undefended?” Finlay demanded.
Roy’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained level. “Nae. We divide the patrols and establish signals between the watch posts.”
“MacNicol men already patrol MacNicol land.”
“Nae enough of them,” Hamish interfered. “Half the outer posts have fewer guards than the records claim.”
A murmur passed around the table. Donaldina felt the old anger rise. Cormac insisted the patrols were sufficient whenever she questioned them. He produced numbers, reports and confident assurances. Numbers, she now suspected, shaped for his own purposes.
“We will inspect every post,” she assured them. “In person, if necessary.”
Roy looked toward her. “Nae alone.”
“I didnae suggest alone.”
His expression informed her that the distinction offered little comfort. Before either could continue, another elder leaned forward. Malcolm Beaton had served under Donaldina’s father and wore his age with the stubbornness of an old oak refusing the wind.
“This discussion is larger than watch posts,” he spoke loudly. “Cormac gathers support because men fear what this marriage will create.”
The room quieted. Donaldina’s hand rested upon the open ledger. There it was, the subject they had circled since Roy first entered Dun Ard beneath the King’s decree.
Malcolm looked directly at him. “Clan MacIver and Clan MacNicol have drawn steel against one another for generations. Fishing rights, roads, grazing lands… blood has been shed over all of it. A priest’s blessing willnae erase memory.”
