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boomed in the torch lit place. A big fire blazed in the enormous fireplace to one corner. “You are here today to bear witness of my choice.”
“Before doing that, though, I am extremely proud to present my grandson to you.” He picked Ewan by his waist and lifted him high over his head to face the crowd. “This is Ewan McKendrick.”
The hall exploded in cheers of ‘Hail, Ewan’.
Irvine sat the boy on his shoulder. Ewan seemed very comfortable being the centre of everyone’s attention. “I declare Ewan McKendrick my sole heir apparent.”
The statement made the room fall so silent that one heard the fire cracking. Freya’s blood drained from her face as dizziness nearly overcame her. Irvine did nothing short of transforming her son in a target. How could he be so clumsy? Inhaling gulps of air, she forced herself to regain her clarity. With the corner of her eyes, she tried to gauge Drostan’s reaction, but he was looking straight ahead. She got no chance of determining what he thought about it.
“I made my choice based on what most kin in my clan conceived of a coalition between the McPhersons and the McKendricks.” Her father resumed after long minutes. “I realised that joining forces will strengthen both clans.” The explanation might be sound, but still... “By doing it, I will strengthen the Highland’s traditions and assets.”
He had the right of it, no doubt. But she did not know the cost. Irvine should have talked to her and Drostan before he announced his heir. Her father must have thought she and her husband would be exhilarated with his choice. Her eyes turned directly to The McKendrick as he displayed mixed expressions on his stance. His old-whisky eyes glared menacingly at Ross while his sensuous mouth upturned in a satisfied smile. Proud and worried, she concluded.
Irvine placed Ewan back on her lap, and she hugged the boy with trembling arms.
“It has come to my attention,” The McPherson’s voice regained the room’s silence. “That a certain chieftain among mine has transformed my daughter’s life in hell.” His hand pointed at her for emphasis. “I hereby ban Ross McPherson and his brother from my lands for the remaining of their life.”
All the people in black and yellow stood and cheered so noisily it deafened her. The entire audience looked at said chieftain who found no way of hiding a scarlet face and a furious glint on flinty eyes. He and James stomped out of the hall.
Though it was good to know Ross got what he deserved, it made her no less tense. Without a place to live and an income, he and James may resort to more criminal acts against anyone in the Highlands. In her opinion, both should be forced to become tenants or even peasants. Naturally, complete destitution came heavy with humiliation. This was probably what her father intended in the first place.
For the rest of the day, the people present ate, drank and interacted festively.
Past mid-afternoon, Freya jostled in the carriage back to the McKendrick. There had been no opportunity to talk privately with Drostan about the day’s events. They had only the chance to invite the McDougals to overnight at their manor with more comfort than at her parents’. In a last-minute decision, Freya had asked Aileen if they could take Ewan in their carriage for safety reasons. Taran did not even blink as he assented, understanding what was at stake. Lachlan and Wallace accompanied them in their horses. They had departed a few minutes ahead of her, Drostan and Fingal.
Of course this new coalition would have consequences for the other clans, too. With it, the McKendricks would gain even more influence and assets. In her mind, she reviewed the network and concluded that the McKendricks had formed alliances or agreements with most of the clans. Everyone would benefit direct or indirectly from the new development. The real effect would take years yet. Her father still had a long time to rule, and Ewan would be able to undertake his place only at eighteen. For the time being, not much would change, she soothed herself.
Outside, behind the carriage, Drostan and Fingal rode sedately through the grey weather. As the father to the heir of two clans’ leadership, Drostan swelled with pride. His approach of preserving Highland’s traditions and force seemed more solid with Irvine’s decision. He would make sure to raise Ewan to prioritise cooperation and win-win attitudes so that everyone shared in the advantages of the coalition. Safety must be reinforced though, he understood it all too clearly.
“My value has increased considerably in the marriage mart.” Fingal said with a pinch of sarcasm.
Drostan scoffed at his brother. “Going to be cocky about it?”
“I should, should I not?” A side smile came to his features. “I might play hard to get.”
“That would be a funny thing to see.”
“Seriously now.” His stance became grave. “I believe I shall accept the McTavish lass.”
Drostan’s gaze turned to his second brother. “Are you sure?”
“I am not so in a hurry to be leg-shackled, but the lass would bring a new branch into our alliance network.” His cinnamon eyes looked ahead in reflection.
“I cannot disagree.” His brother answered. “They say the lass is one of the prettiest in the Highlands, tall and slender.” The eldest said with detachment. The lass’s appearance meant nothing to him.
“Well, I will not complain about these secondary advantages.”
“Secondary, huh.” Not that Fingal was a womaniser, but he counted his share of ‘interested’ lasses. “Alright, I will send a letter to The McTavish.” Fingal nodded in acknowledgement.
With a book in hand, Freya did not pay attention to what Drostan and Fingal talked outside. The nanny had put the tome in the carriage saying Ewan might fall asleep and the lady would have time for it. Freya was grateful for the afterthought.
Pounding hooves and shouting in the distance tore her from her reading. The carriage screeched to a stop. Hazel gaze peered out at the road, and saw two riders and the McPherson colours. No need for more visuals to know who they were.
Ross and James pulled their reins about fifty yards away from their group, rifles in hand.
Extreme despair wrenched her insides. These men had nothing else to lose. Or they had little else to lose, except their life. But they did not seem to care for it anymore.
“Get down from your horses.” James ordered.
