As a man, Allistair might use his piercing blue eyes, to outstare weaker men, but Leo knew the mind behind those eyes and was never influenced. His cousin always had some scheme or other, largely for his own benefit.
“None of ye have made clear what ye think is so important here,” Leo pointed out, his almost-black eyes locking onto Allistair's. “Why the need to name a successor? Why bring forth an heir now? What have ye all seen in the witch’s cauldron to make ye believe that me time on this earth is comin' to an end?”
“’Tis simply a matter of strategic thinkin', Leo,” Allistair explained, somewhat pompously. “There are books I’ve read on strategy, written for kings and emperors and…”
“I have a library of me own, Allistair, and we’re all too old for tutorin' at this table,” Leo shut his cousin down.
He was well aware that Allistair considered himself highly cultured and educated through being schooled in Edinburgh. In contrast, he thought Leo’s side of the family carried a slow and brutish taint in their bloodline. Well, what Allistair chose to believe was his own concern, but Leo would not brook open disrespect.
“This is quite a strategic matter, me Laird,” offered Jonah, a councilman with a bushy red beard and florid complexion, speaking hesitantly but apparently agreeing with Allistair, much to Leo’s annoyance.
Further murmurs of agreement followed this statement from around the table, but they quickly died at one baleful look from Leo.
“Ye prefer nae to marry again?” Allistair spoke up yet again, evidently not as easily subdued as the others on the council.
“I prefer to live as I choose without unwarranted interference and disruption from this council.”
“Ye cannae understand the risks of havin' nay heir or successor, me Laird,” Leo’s cousin continued to press, his expression and tone showing that he considered Leo’s stance ridiculous. “If ye did…”
Before Allistair could say more, Leo rose from his chair abruptly and stepped towards his cousin. Allistair rose too and faced him toe to toe. Although dark-haired Leo was a head taller and significantly broader than fair-haired Allistair, the smaller man barely flinched until Leo spoke.
“I suggest ye daenae finish that sentence, Cousin,” he growled. "Not unless ye intend to forfeit yer place on me council.”
At this, Allistair took a step back and briefly dropped his eyes. Leo studied the man and noted something that bothered him, more than it would if he had seen it in anyone else.
Allistair is too sure of himself. He fears me less than he should.
Leo could be a brute with those who crossed him; he was in no position to argue that fact. He was also smarter than Allistair and his smooth-talking kind gave him credit for. Leo would never underestimate his slippery cousin as Allistair underestimated him. He knew that the fair-haired aristocratic face hid the workings of devious soul.
Those azure eyes raised themselves again and met Leo’s once again.
“As an adviser to the laird, I must advise ye,” Allistair said. “Ye wouldnae have us all only nod and shake our heads in time with yer speech, would ye?”
The other councilmen were now squirming in their seats, and shifting their feet in an uncomfortable dance. Leo suspected none of them would dare to cross him alone, but as a group, and inspired by his cousin, was another matter. Well, he was the laird and he had no intention of staying quiet while his council pushed and prodded and demanded an unnecessary decision.
“Then advise me,” Leo challenged him. “Tell me what I’ve never heard before. Tell me why this matters now.”
“It has always mattered, me Laird,” Allistair argued. “The waitin' has been long enough now. Too long. That is why we are here today. That is why we must all now think strategically about this matter.”
The councilmen nodded along like puppets, most not daring to speak up themselves in the face of Leo’s opposition.
“Ye ken it’s true, Leo,” Allistair said with a smile, his lips curling up like an animal’s, and nothing of goodwill reaching his eyes. “Ye ken that there is reason and practicality to consider here.”
Leo looked to Tyler and saw only compassion. He was a man-at-arms, not an adviser. Tyler would stand beside his laird, no matter what, but Leo could not expect him to oppose the council any more than the council could expect Tyler to oppose Leo.
Leo did ken the truth of some of Allistair’s claims. The clan had been growing ever uneasier with his unmarried state, as well as the council. The laird might rule the actions of his men but he could not change hearts and minds by force of will.
Allistair sat back down at the table as though deferring to Leo’s authority, but then addressed the councilmen as he were a preacher speaking from a pulpit.
“Seven years have passed since our great laird was struck by tragedy. His fears are understandable. Who among us would not feel the same after losin' a wife in such circumstances?”
“Daenae speak of me tragedy, Cousin,” Leo snapped, turning and slamming a fist on the table beside Allistair. “Ye ken nothin' of it. Daenae speak either of me as though I’m nae here.”
Allistair had jumped with fright at this outburst, as any man would have done, but recovered himself quickly.
“I only mean that we all ken that Mhairi’s death is what keeps ye from takin' another wife, and getting' an heir. But ye must look past that now. The clan needs stability. It needs to ken who will rule here in twenty years, nae just tomorrow.”
More murmurs of agreement rose from the other councilmen and Leo’s jaw clenched again. His stomach churned with all the bile and acid that had simmered bitterly within him for seven years. How many of these men had watched a wife bleed to death on the birthing bed after two days of agony?
