Page 63 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

“A flattering foundation for unity.”

“It is a beginning.”

Roy looked toward the men gathered over the map. MacIver and MacNicol shoulders nearly touched as they argued about the northern ridge.

“Aye,” he nodded. “It is.”

Donaldina glanced at him.

There was approval in his eyes again. It reached the same tender place his praise had found in Lachlan’s solar. She looked away before he could see.

Outside, the wind continued battering Dun Ard, testing each repaired stone and newly fitted beam. Within the council chamber, two clans placed their first shared marks upon a single map.

It was not peace. But for the first time, it resembled a road toward it.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Roy left the council chamber with the sound of argument still lodged behind his eyes. The shared patrol had been approved. It was a beginning, Donaldina called it.

Beginnings required trust. Roy had found battles simpler.

He crossed the courtyard toward the stables, where the air smelled of rain-dark straw, leather and the warm animal musk of horses. Hammers continued sounding from the outer wall, though the afternoon softened and the wind no longer struck Dun Ard with such violence.

His stallion stood in the open yard beside the stable doors. Bran was a great black beast, broad through the chest and scarred along one flank from a spear that had nearly taken them both during the war. He watched Roy approach with the solemn suspicion of an animal who considered most men disappointing.

Roy took a brush from the rail. Bran allowed three strokes before turning his head and attempting to bite the handle.

“Ye have survived worse insults,” Roy told him.

The stallion’s ears flattened. A giggle sounded behind the fence. Roy glanced over his shoulder.

Four village children stood crowded beside the gate. The eldest boy could not have been more than nine. A smaller girl clutched the rail with both hands, while two younger lads peered between the wooden slats.

All four stared at Bran. Then at Roy.

“Does he bite?” the girl asked.

“Aye.”

The children drew back. Roy continued brushing.

“Only people he dislikes,” he added.

They moved forward again, apparently confident that an enormous warhorse would find them charming.

The eldest boy pushed open the gate. “Can he bow?”

“Nae.”

“Our old pony bows,” said one of the younger lads.

“Yer old pony is likely attempting tae fall.”

The girl laughed. Within moments, they surrounded Bran at what Roy considered an unwise distance. The stallion watched them with his ears turned forward, puzzled by the sudden gathering of small, loud creatures.

The eldest boy held up a piece of carrot.

“Bow,” he ordered.