Lamend nodded thoughtfully. “Yer explanation makes sense. I see ye had the lady’s welfare at the heart of yer foolish decision tae mislead us. And yer freedom tae leave once ye had done yer duty here.”
“And I assume ye thought we’d ne’er ken the lie we’d been told, fer ye’d have been gone and we’d have been none the worse fer it.” Gaufried chuckled. “Foolish lad.”
Tormod rose to his feet. “I thank ye fer yer counsel, Edmund, and now I wish ye on yer way while we confer. Regardless of our decision, I shall summon the Clan Council fer a meeting tomorrow, when we shall make our final decision on the lairdship.”
Edmund stood and bowed from the waist. “I thank ye all fer the time ye’ve granted me case.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Harris strode down the steps leading to the empty sparring ground but the man he was to meet was not there.
He paced the outer wall, his insides knotted, his thoughts tumbling over each other. To his surprise he found his hands were shaking. He clenched his fists, wanting nothing more than to drive them forcefully into Sinclair’s face.
That usurper had spun a tale of love and emotion that had fair turned the heads of the Elders. He’d once considered them to be wise, but now he saw them as aged men, with scrawny legs and hair as thin as their wisdom, their words little more than the clucking of chickens. What fools they were to have listened to those words dripping from Sinclair’s lips, convincing them to award him the lairdship of the MacNeacails.
How dare they?
He fumed, for it was rightfully his. Why, he’d promised to wed that plain little wench Tyra to ensure it came to him. It was himself, Harris MacDonald, who was the rightful inheritor of the lairdship.
“Laird MacDonald.”
He whipped around at the sound of the soft voice. Munro’s lad was standing pressed in the shadow of the wall. Harris stepped over to greet him.
“Let us walk further, there may well be squires or grooms coming to this place.” He gestured further along where they would be out of sight of the sparring ground.
The man slipped out of his hiding place and the two of them made their silent way along the outer wall.
“I have a proposal fer yer master, Laird Graham Munro. Clan MacNeacail is being manipulated by Edmund Sinclair intae believing he should take up the lairdship. I have already sent me missives tae yer laird, ever since he contacted me and told me of his daughter’s abduction by Sinclair.”
“And what message is it ye wish me tae convey tae me master?”
Harris gave a sharp little laugh. “Tell yer laird that it is I who shall take the lairdship. I am tae wed the old laird’s drab little daughter fer one reason only. She is the tool I require tae makethe clan mine. I’ll nae allow this upstart tae take away what belongs rightfully tae me.”
Munro’s messenger nodded. “Even as we speak, me laird is close tae the Isle of Skye on board one of his birlinns.”
“Good. I’ll make ready with plans tae deliver the lady.”
The man grinned at Edmund. “His fury kent nay bounds when he received yer letter in response tae his and he learnt his daughter was at Scorrybreac.”
Harris gave a grim smile. “Then I have little doubt yer laird will be pleased with what I propose.” He handed over a folded and sealed parchment. “’Tis all in here. If Clan Munro assist me in disposing of Sinclair, I will bring the laird’s daughter Annora tae his birlinn.”
The man took the parchment and tucked it into the leather satchel slung over his shoulder. “I’ll see that he gets this with all speed.”
Harris gave a gloating smile. “Come,” he said, “I’ll accompany ye tae the gate and make sure ye’ve nay problem wi’ the guards.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Tucked behind the castle’s inner wall, out of sight in the garden above Harris and the messenger, every word of the conversation floated up to Annora and Tyra’s waiting ears.
Annora recognized MacDonald’s voice at once. A glance at Tyra told her instantly that she, too, fully understood who was speaking.
Annora’s blood pounded in her veins as she slowly began to realize the extent of MacDonald’s treachery.
Tyra was sitting stock still, frozen in her seat, her face a picture of rage and heartbreak, her delicate features twisted in amazement as every traitorous word flowed over them.
Annora sucked in a breath, scarcely able to breath as she listened to MacDonald’s proposal.
Get rid of Edmund, indeed! Abduct her and take her to her father!
