Page 12 of The Lion

“Will ye return for our next gathering?” he asked the man when he reached him.

The farmer shook his head. “This is not for me. I do not wish to harm anyone. I thought we were going to come up with a plan to approach the laird with—a way for our families to flourish.”

Cairn put his arm around the man’s shoulders. “That sort of thing keeps us in our place, no one’s situation will change.”

The man gave him a confused look. “It is the way of things. A leader for the clan, someone to rule the people. Nothing we do will change that. Either Laird Ross or ye, it will not matter who is in charge, the rest of us will not see much of a difference.”

Eyes widened in surprise when Cairn sunk the blade into the man’s side. When realization struck it was too late, Cairn stabbed him again. The farmer crumpled to the ground and Cairn leaned over him. “Yer right, I will be the new clan’s leader. However, ye will not live to see that day.”

Cairn hurried back to the empty house, found his steed, and mounted. Deciding it was best to be seen just in case there were questions regarding the man’s death, Cairn urged his horse in the direction of the village tavern.

Chapter Five

The next day, Darach broke his fast in his bedchamber, not in the mood to be around people. The great hall would soon be overcrowded again, and the dining room was filled with his mother’s visitors, who would be chatting the day away as if they’ve not a care in the world.

It was not fair to be so angered by his mother’s visitors. She did have plans for the group to do things for the poor. What bothered him was that there was so much to do, so many problems to take care of. The last thing he needed was for his mother to be playing matchmaker at a time like this.

If he was to marry, the arrangement did not need to include him at any level. He would choose a woman, and as far as he was concerned, his mother and whoever else could take care of the rest. Silly that they thought he could take time at the moment to court.

“Laird, the council waits,” his valet stood by the door, the older man’s eyes scanning over him. “Do ye plan to dress today?”

Putting down his cup, Darach gave him his best glare. “No, Ramey, I plan to stroll about the keep naked.”

Ramey had worked for their family for decades. The older man had become Darach’s valet after a heated argument between the valet and his father. The only reason his father had not sent the man away, was because the man had been in the family’s service since a young lad.

“What do ye think about our recent visitors, Ramey?” Darach began as he allowed the man to help him dress. “Mother thinks I should marry the flowery creature that has been floating about the keep since yesterday.”

“Yer mother is correct in that it is past time for ye and yer brothers to marry. All of ye, except for Gideon, are over thirty years of age.”

“There is no time limit for marriage.”

“Most lasses prefer to marry someone that is attractive and has all their teeth,” Ramey replied with a stern expression.

Darach slid him a side glance. “What of the lass? I know ye have an opinion.”

“Is it not yer opinion that counts most?”

Sitting down to don his boots, Darach nodded. “The sister, Isobel. She dresses like a servant. I actually thought her to be one. Her dress is drab as if she does not wish to garner any attention. She seems the more intelligent and far more beautiful of the two.”

“Then marry the drab dressing one,” Ramey said. “Do not complicate things.”

Darach’s lips curved. The man had a way of setting things straight.

Upon entering the great hall, there were not as many people about like the day before. He stopped to speak to a group of sheepherders, who were there to complain about land distribution. Darach called to Stuart, who along with a group of guardsmen, had been riding out to inspect the lands.

“Ride out with these men and review their land allotments. Ensure they each have the same quarter that buts up to the river.”

Stuart studied each man in turn with so much intensity that they began to shrink back. “I was just there, speaking to ye less than seven days ago. What has changed?”

“Nothing, sir,” one finally said. “We were told to come and ensure the laird agreed.”

Darach whirled to the group and shouted. “My brother’s word is my word. Do not ever question it.” He curled his hands into fists. “If anyone here brings up something that my brothers have already given a decision on, I will throw ye in the dungeon.”

The room emptied.

Stuart pressed his lips together and gave him a droll look. “That worked.” His gaze moved past Darach to a doorway and he turned to find Isobel standing there, her journal in hand, eyes wide.

“I suppose her father doesn’t threaten his people with a dungeon first thing in the morning,” Stuart quipped.