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“The clan will be better off if I abdicate in favour of Laird Lachlan,” the blackguard dropped it as a cannon ball in the middle of a flock of pigeons. Lachlan could even hear their wings swooshing in hastened flight.
Moira’s eyes snapped to Lachlan with a thousand feelings shifting in them, expectation, apprehension. But what he saw most was excitement, a touch of giddiness.
Stunned silence fell in the barn broken only by the breeze shaking the trees around the barn. Those present looked from one to another without uttering a word. As Laird Darroch, Harris could abdicate, not necessarily in favour of the next heir, but to his own chosen leader, as clan rules allowed.
“Well…” Harris prompted.
“You should have talked to us first,” Lachlan said. Not that he felt unhappy with this, but it took time to decide if it was the best route.
“My sources say you and Lady Darroch are leading the clan superbly,” he answered.
Sources? So, he had been keeping track of everything here. Of course, he had. As a businessman he would be prone to watch over his possessions.
“Wee better than ye,” a woman in a coarse dress and a Darroch plaid shawl ventured.
“Aye,” a man opposite her said.
“Laird Lachlan isna afraid of work,” another woman supplied.
Harris’ nod showed he understood. “Naturally, we would need to draw a legal document to make it official.”
“We will do it only if all the clan agree with this.” Moira manifested herself for the first time.
“Raise yer hands who do,” Caitlin proposed.
Even the children followed their parents’ lead and raised their hands. The clan went massively with the idea.
“What say you, Laird Lachlan?” Harris turned to him.
Lachlan was torn between surprise and thrill. Which third son ever dreamed of being a clan Laird? It happened if tragedy struck, and he preferred to die than to see any of his brothers harmed. He surveyed every single face waiting expectant at him. They conveyed they regarded him as the right person to help them.
“If it’s everyone’s wish, I’ll be happy to accept it,” he said looking at his wife.
A broad smile came from her and he concluded he said the right thing. Harris turned from one to the other satisfied with what he saw.
“In that case, I’ll call the solicitors here,” Harris added.
“Long live Laird Darroch!” Everyone cheered.
As they reached the manor, the Murrays, who had been to the gathering, had already returned. Mrs. Murray rushed to Moira. “Oh, Lady Moira, we’re so happy for you and the Laird!” And held the lady’s hands.
“I believe he’s Laird Darroch now,” Harris, entering the hall, contributed.
“It’ll take getting used to,” Lachlan commented, patting Murray’s back.
The three of them headed to the study. Inside, Lachlan served three glasses of whisky. They drank it and remained silent for a while.
“You knew of Moira’s predicament here and did nothing?” he threw at Harris.
Her cousin eyed him directly. “Not exactly,” he took a drink. “Apparently everything went as normal,” he defended. “I was sure she would carry on as usual. Moira’s always showed her care for the Darrochs.”
Moira’s brow pleated. “But you said your sources…” she trailed off, not needing to say any more.
“Yes,” Harris answered. “When Laird McKendrick joined you here, I thought it a bit precipitated, so I looked better into it.”
“And still you did nothing.” Lachlan repeated.
The other man shrugged. “By then, you were already here looking after her.”
