“Well, what do ye think?” Laird Douglas asked, snapping Emeric’s attention back to the table.
Emeric blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
Laird Douglas rolled his eyes. “About Laird MacDonald’s proposal.”
“Proposal?”
His uncle scowled at his lack of attention. “Laird MacDonald has proposed a joint venture to begin mining operations in the northern valley. He thinks there might be copper deposits out there.”
Emeric shifted his gaze to Laird MacDonald. The man stared back, his expression unreadable.
Copper deposits? The northern valley was an inhospitable land of broken rocks and ravines. There had never been any hint of mineral deposits in that area.
“What’s in it for us?” Emeric asked, his gaze never leaving the MacDonald clan leader.
“The valley is our ancestral land, lad,” his uncle said. “If there are indeed copper deposits, we’ll have a hand in the profits.”
Emeric’s eyes narrowed. “And what’s in it for the MacDonald?”
Laird MacDonald leaned back in his chair, gesturing expansively. “We already have mines on our land and so have the resources and expertise that ye are lacking. We’d be willing to use our own men and equipment in return for say, two thirds of the profit.” The laird leaned forward suddenly and his expression sharpened. “And it would be another way to renew the alliance between our two great clans and put any recent...unpleasantness behind us.”
Ah, so that was it.
Emeric was not immune to the barely veiled threat behind those words. If they didn’t agree to this proposal, the ‘unpleasantness’ wouldnotbe forgotten.
His jaw clenched. The MacDonalds had never gone so far as to overtly threaten violence against the Mackintosh, and they’d always strenuously denied any involvement in the cattle raids that sporadically took place across the border, but the alliance between them had always been parchmentthin—and that was before Aislinn had become engaged to Brodie Murray.
The MacDonald clearly saw the marriage as a threat, allying the Mackintosh with the Murrays, a clan that rivaled the MacDonald in power and influence. This proposal was just a way for the MacDonald to reassert their dominance over the Mackintosh, the smaller, weaker clan.
Ah, by the Saints, he hated all this. Politics. Clan rivalries. The endless push and pull of power struggles. Give him a bow in his hand and an enemy to point it at over all this shadowy maneuvering. Yet he knew this was a battle of its own kind, and to survive, his clan would have to navigate it wisely.
Emeric’s gaze once again drifted towards Anna. She was laughing at something Maria had said, her eyes shining with the same mirth that had attracted him to her in the first place. Unbothered by the political machinations taking place around her, oblivious to the increasingly dangerous attention she was drawing from Duncan MacDonald, she was like a force of nature.
He would not let any of this put her in danger.
Turning to Laird MacDonald, he fixed him with an unwavering stare. “I’m more interested in discussing the grain agreement.”
The man’s eyebrows rose. “The grain agreement?”
“Aye. The agreement yer father struck with my grandfather whereby we give ye half our grain harvest in return for ‘protection’ along our southern border.”
Anyone with half an ear couldn’t miss the stress he put on the word ‘protection’. The only people theMackintosh needed protection from along their southern border were the MacDonalds themselves and it had long been a bone of contention between him and his uncle that they continue with the charade. Now more than ever, it was time to call the MacDonald’s bluff and redefine the terms of their relationship.
MacDonald’s face twitched with irritation, but he swiftly smothered it with an affected look of surprise. “What about it?”
Emeric coolly met his gaze. “I propose we renegotiate it. Our southern borders have been quiet for a long time now.”
“That agreement has stood for years, boy.”
“And therein lies the problem. That agreement was signed by my grandfather and yer father. Things have changed since then.”
MacDonald’s face was stone. “Ye think ye can defend yerselves without us?”
Emeric did not miss the implicit threat in that statement. He took a sip from his goblet. “There’s only one way to find out, isnae there?”
He was met with silence as Laird MacDonald struggled to find an answer. Good. That was what Emeric had wanted. It wasn’t about the grain or even the copper. It was about making a point. The Mackintosh were not weak, were not to be pushed around.
His uncle cleared his throat. “What my nephew means is, if ye wish to explore the option of mining rights on our lands, it would only be prudent to discuss our other agreements at the same time. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement that suits us all. Wouldnae ye agree?”
