Page 2 of A Flawed Scotsman

“Since we were young, ye’ve always loved to be around animals,” his cousin, Ewan Ross, mused, his gaze moving from the horse to Ruari.

Ruari nodded. “I have, but sometimes the unruly ones like this one make me wonder why.” He tugged the strap he’d tied around the huge beast’s snout and neck. The horse pulled backward and pawed the ground in warning.

“Fine,” Ruari barked and released his hold on the strap. The angry horse shook its large head, its mane waving about its head and then it galloped in a circle around the enclosed corral.

“That horse will eventually be a great warhorse.”

By the incredulous look on Ewan’s face, he didn’t believe him. Ruari smiled. He loved a challenge and, eventually, this particular horse would be his mount.

Although both he and the horse were stubborn, Ruari was sure that, eventually, he’d win the beast over.

They walked to the guard training area just as the daily practice ended. In groups of threes and fours, sweaty men dispersed and headed to either their homes in the village or to the guard quarters within the keep. The ones who lived in the keep would soon be washed up and at last meal, more than ready to fill their bellies with hot food.

The laird, Malcolm Ross, motioned for Ruari and Ewan to come with him. He and Ewan exchanged looks and followed their cousin. Usually too busy for more than a few words, most days, Malcolm hurried from sword practice to greet villagers and visitors for any last minute business before inviting them to stay and eat.

Already in the great hall, servants rushed about preparing the tables and ensuring all would be ready for last meal. They barely stopped in their duties to notice the group of warriors as they walked through the room and then down a side corridor to Malcolm’s study.

Every time Ruari entered the study, with its tapestried walls and shelves that held tomes and various gifts from other lairds, he expected to find his uncle at the front. The recent horrible killing of Robert Ross had yet to seem real.

They were joined by Malcolm’s brother, Tristan, and the head of the archers, Naill Hay. It was unusual to meet more than once a day to discuss what was happening in the clan. Most days, they’d spend at least an hour in the morning ensuring every aspect was covered. However, from time to time, Malcolm would call a second meeting if something was amiss.

Ruari went over his duties mentally, deciding to bring up the fact that they were low a few warhorses. There was a breeder not too far to the south and he intended to go himself with a group so that he could pick the best ones.

“We will be sending a group of guardsmen in a sennight to replace the men at the northern border,” Malcolm began and looked to Naill. “Do ye have an idea of who must go?”

Naill nodded, his long hair falling over his face. “I will go with a party of twenty archers and relieve Kieran and his men.”

“What about ye?” Malcolm asked his brother, Tristan, who headed the warrior contingent of the clan’s large guard unit.

“I’ll be sending twenty or five and twenty as well. I have a few volunteers, others I will assign based on the last time they’ve gone.”

Ewan lifted a hand. “I’ll go and help at the border. May as well make myself useful in some way.”

Everyone looked from Ewan to Malcolm.

Malcolm’s right eyebrow rose. “So ye prefer going to the frigid north rather than returning home to the seaside. Interesting. I am curious to know who the wench is that sent ye running.”

When everyone laughed, Ewan scowled. “I needed a change of pace, to decide what to focus upon. As third born, I have nothing to cause me to go back. My coming here has nothing to do with a woman.”

When scanning the room, Ruari could see no one believed Ewan.

“There is another matter that must be discussed,” Malcolm said while pulling a parchment out. “A messenger brought this two days ago. I’ve been mulling over what to do about it.”

“What is it?” Ewan asked, always the impatient one.

Malcolm let out a breath. “It is a request from Laird Fraser, head of the small clan just south of here. He asks for an alliance.”

“I do not see any problem with it. Is there?” Tristan asked.

“I am prepared for an agreement between the clans. There is a threat from the Mackenzie that has them on edge. As we are all aware, Laird Mackenzie wishes to take over every clan in this area, looking to grow his territory,” Malcolm said.

Malcolm continued. “There is an issue which gives me pause. Laird Fraser prefers something more stable in the alliance and asks that our clans be joined by marriage.”

Tristan huffed. “We’ve all married. Certainly, he is aware.”

“Not everyone.” Malcolm looked to Ruari and Ewan who exchanged round-eyed looks. “Do not worry. I am sure a marriage will not be demanded as I am sure he expected for either Tristan or Kieran to be the grooms to his daughter.”

“However,” Tristan interjected. “A marriage between the clans does mean a more stable alliance.”