His father had barely acknowledged Ailsa. If his mother insulted her as well, there would be words.
‘You’re not tall,’ Helen said.
Ailsa’s eyebrows rose. ‘None of my family are. My father’s...rather wide, truthfully.’
‘Your mother’s side?’
‘Very short as well,’ Ailsa said, her voice a bit clipped. ‘But my mother’s ancestors weren’t of clan interest. There could have been someone of height, but we don’t know.’
‘Theirs was not an arranged marriage?’
‘Quite the opposite.’
Helen pointed to Ailsa and looked to Rory. ‘She’s the Tanist’s daughter. No relation to Hamish?’
‘None,’ Ailsa said, her voice once again at ease though his mother was uncivil in asking him. But for Ailsa, she acted as if an answer toan unasked question had been revealed, which completely confounded him.
‘My father’s lineage is extensive and well known throughout the clan,’ Ailsa continued. ‘It was why he was so easily chosen as Tanist when Hamish became ill. My mother’s side is too common for Hamish’s revered and proud family. Not a drop of my blood is of any relation to Chief McCrieff.’
His mother released a choppy breath. ‘Not that it matters, of course, but we’ve had difficulties with the McCrieffs and particularly your Chief.’
‘Of course,’ Ailsa said.
A slight smile and his mother eyed Ailsa nervously. ‘You must be tired from your journey. Why don’t I show you to your chambers?’
He wouldn’t be separated from his wife, not this soon. ‘The journey is not far. Perhaps we could have a repast instead and converse on how everyone has been? You have not enquired about Paiden.’
‘We received your missives,’ Finley pointed out.
‘But I received none from you. Paiden was sick, dying.’
‘Your wife is a healer,’ Finley said.
Was everything so easy before? Lochmores had been strategic in their attainment of powerand there had also been some minor clashes with other clans. But true adversity, he realised, that is what Lochmores lacked.
Mere weeks away from his family, from Lochmores. Barely any time at all and Rory knew it was more than enough to come to more conclusions.
As he stood facing his father, he realised his attempts to emulate Finley, Chief of Lochmore, wasn’t his true path. He’d seen what Hamish’s desire to gain power and control had done to his clan. He’d witnessed Frederick’s attempts to make amends and wrench his own control to save it.
The kind of discord Frederick faced was nothing his father had ever had to face. Deception. Deceit. Murder. He was grateful it was Ailsa, with her shears and direct ways, who stood by his side.
‘Ailsa can’t perform miracles. We couldn’t wake him. He’s not here now because he’s weak and couldn’t make the journey even in the back of a cart.’
‘Well, it’s all over now,’ Helen interjected. ‘Let’s not talk of McCrieff matters, shall we?’
His mother never wanted to argue or discuss any conflict, but her dismissal was out of character. He knew she cared for Paiden, so something else was going on here. And he felt he knew atleast part of it. Ailsa hadn’t acted insulted by the odd questioning about height and who her father was, but Rory was offended on her behalf.
‘Ailsa is my wife, Mother. McCrieffs are her clan and so by our marriage am I part of hers. Talking of them should be accepted.’
‘Son,’ Finley said.
The rebuke might have meant something to him once. Discipline. Keeping his silence and never disappointing. This has been his life up until the fateful day he crossed to McCrieff lands. Not any more. He’d faced life threatening conflicts over the last fortnight and preferred directness over niceties now.
Helen tapped his father’s arm. ‘Rory, I apologise if there’s been offence at my questions. I’m merely enquiring since we know so little about her.’
His mother was talking around Ailsa who for reasons he didn’t understand was keeping her courtesy and her blunt tongue silent. ‘You weren’t asking about her, but asking of her ancestors. You were enquiring whether she was worthy of a Lochmore.’
‘Rory,’ Ailsa said.
