Edmund joined them there and the three men took their seats. Spread before them on the table were several formal-looking parchments.
“Messages have been sent tae the Council Elders tae attend a meeting here tomorrow, when I will introduce ye.” Tormod began.
Edmund raised a hand. “At this stage it is only fair fer me tae tell ye that yer news has come as something of a shock tae me. Until I received yer missive I had nay knowledge of me kin. I kent meself only as Edmund Sinclair, and me only memories were of life at Dùn Ara Castle, on the Isle of Mull.”
Tormod nodded gravely. “Yer whereabouts were unknown until only recently tae yer faither, the Laird Baldur. With nay other son born tae him, he sought fer ye.”
Edmund nodded. “There is much I need tae learn.”
With that, Tormod reached among the spread parchments and, finding what it was he sought, he raised a single sheet. “This letter was left by Laird Baldur. It was written some time ago when his strength was failing and he kent his end was approaching. It was his wish that ye should claim the lairdship, as is yer right.”
Edmund took the letter and, as he scanned it, his heart began pounding and his palms quickly became damp. It was signed by his late father and was brief, merely a few lines.
“’Tis written in yer faither’s hand,” Tormod said quietly. “Please read it aloud.”
Taking a deep breath, Edmund raised the letter, the writing slightly blurred by the tears glazing his eyes.
“It is me wish that me only son, born of the Lady Elizabeth Sinclair, should take the lairdship of Clan MacNeacail after me death. This son, I have lately learned, is named Edmund Baldurson Sinclair and resides at Castle Dùn Ara on the Isle of Mull.”
The words on the parchment came like a sudden shower of ice-cold water over Edmund’s head. He’d paid little heed to his full name until this moment. Now he registered, for the first time, that he’d carried his father’s name all these years. His head was spinning, scarcely able to make sense of this new discovery.
“That is yer name, is it nay, Laird Edmund?”
“Aye Chief Tormod. That is indeed me name. Yet, addressing me as laird this day daes nay fit me well. As ye will understand, I ken little of me own clan, its history and lore, and I have nae been schooled in the laws yer laird must administer.”
“Tomorrow, this will be discussed with the Council Elders. Methinks both ye and the clan have much to learn about each other.”
Edmund glanced at Harris MacDonald who had said nothing but sat frowning with folded arms.
“If I shouldnae wish tae take up me right tae the lairdship, then who will lead the clan?”
Harris finally spoke. “Why, there should be nothing to stand between the Lady Tyra and the lairdship if she is married. There are several Highland clans led by women.”
Edmund made no response. It was abundantly clear that Harris saw himself as the future clan leader. His marriage to Tyra would mean joining the MacNeacail lands with his holding in Sleat. This would both elevate him in the eyes of his clan and strengthen his power.
Tormod rose. “Now, if ye please, I wish tae invite ye and yer lady wife tae join wi’ us in the refectory tae partake of supper. Tomorrow the Elders will be with us and a feast will be prepared tae celebrate yer visit.” He shot Edmund a rueful grin. “But this night we dine more modestly.”
Edmund got to his feet. He was still reeling from the letter he’d read, written in the hand of the father he’d never known.
When they entered the refectory hall, he was pleased to see Annora there already, chatting with his half-sister, Tyra.
Although she was clad in what were essentially rags, Edmund felt a glow of something akin to pride as his eyes swept the hall and came to rest on her. Annora’s spine was straight, her shoulders squared, her head was held high as she turned to Tyra with all the grace and elegance one would expect of a lady of noble birth. Her hair fell in glorious, fair waves acrossher shoulders and down her back. Despite all the hardships and humiliation she’d experienced, she was able to give the impression of a lady dressed in silks and velvets who was unconcerned about her own appearance but whose attention was given solely to the person she spoke to.
His heart leaped at the sight of her elegant beauty.
The two women looked up as he took his seat, Annora at his right hand, as befit his wife.
She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling.
“Dear husband, I have been telling yer sister about how very brave ye were in saving us from death at the hands of the Barbary corsairs.”
Tyra was almost breathless. “Aye, it seems ye both had a very narrow escape. The fisherfolk who bide near the shore live in constant fear of the pirates and many along the coast have been kidnapped.”
He gave a small laugh. “I would prefer to speak of charming places to which we may ride. Mayhap we’ll nae be here long, so I wish tae see as much of yer lands as is possible.”
Tyra glanced at Harris who was seated on Edmund’s right, as if needing his approval. Edmund registered the all-but-imperceptible nod her fiancée gave her before she spoke.
At last, a smile flickered on Tyra’s bonnie lips. “Why yes, there are many such places. All of them are nay more than an hour’s ride.” She turned to Annora.
